Granted, we have yet to settle into anything close to a
schedule or routine (our classes start tomorrow, the 4th, so a
schedule we will soon have), but easily we are adapting to the ways of our
home, la residencia [the residence hall]. Owned not by the school but by
individuals (like apartment complexes), the residencias are scattered about the
city. In actuality, I am pretty sure they are former apartments and flats
renovated for student living, but I could be wrong. Our residencia is five
floors – each floor has four doors leading into uniquely constructed and
decorated halls (stickers of roses and other various flowers, sometimes as
large as three feet tall, adorn my hall’s walls. Off of these halls lie the
actual rooms. My room, though, is attached to a kitchen and bathroom. Though
these two facilities are for the hall’s general use, most often the girls use
the other bathroom, etc. Our space is referred to as the apartment – we definitely
lucked out. The room itself is outfitted with two twin beds, armoires, desks,
chairs for said desks, and side tables. Most importantly, the flower stickers
did not halt at the door – above my roommate’s desk is a whole field of
sunflowers, complete with multi-colored butterflies hovering overhead. The
bedding is hot pink with seventies –style Barbie pictures on the inside.
Festive? Our first night, my bed only had one sheet and the covers, and seeing
as there is no central heat, that night proved to be very cold. Definitely
hibernation mode. Anyways, after a few nights each of our beds magically received
wool blankets. Simultaneously, our little space heater began to work as well,
which all made for a very happy place during the first week of cold, rainy
days.
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| My side of the room. Sparse but comfy. |
Here in the residencia, senoras clean, cook, and act as
mothers for the students. Every Monday and Friday they clean the rooms quite
thoroughly; Tuesdays are laundry days, so we place our clothes outside our door
and the items are returned a few days later in a huge basket (smelling quite
fresh, might I add). Meals are served within the building, too, on the second
floor. The dining hall is a room big enough for about eight tables, all set
with plates and silverware upon entry.
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| the largest of the flower stickers |
Breakfast is
self-serve, and the kitchen is open for students to prepare toast, oatmeal, and
assorted pastries. My favorite choice for breakfast is toast with tomato puree,
olive oil, salt, and pepper (I noticed many of the students preparing this on
my first day, and for good reason – it is oh so delicious). The senoras are
already working on the food for lunch and dinner, so shrimp and chicken are
often soaking in absolutely massive pots. Coffee is made and stored in tall glass
containers, so whoever wants some joe just pours a glass to heat in the
microwave (literally, in a glass; none of the students use the mugs). Coffee
most typically is not consumed black, but with an equal part of milk to make café
con leche. Breakfast is served between 8 and 10 am, so the kitchen usually is
not too crowded. A few times I have eaten with the Spanish students, which is a
true exercise in my Spanish competency. Early morning Rachel has trouble enough
communicating in English. Other days, I roll in at the later end of breakfast
and enjoy a quiet, very peaceful meal.
Lunch and dinner differ from breakfast in that the students
are served by the senoras and an incredibly wonderful man named Antonio. Tall,
slim, and probably in his late fifties, Antonio is a man of few words and
generally maintains a fairly serious expression, though he is quick-witted and
loves joking with the students. Some of the Spanish girls like to shout and
sing at meals, and I always catch him casting hilarious looks (to no one in
particular), most of which are made by raising his eyebrows in unusual ways. He
is patient and caring, constantly wanting to please both the Spanish and
foreign residents. Upon our arrival, he learned our names; whenever someone
does not favor a certain dish or cuisine, he takes note and will have other
foods prepared instead.
Most meals begin with a soup or stew (for dinner, the soup
is more often than not a twist on chicken noodle), followed by a main course of
meat and vegetables. Never are vegetables served raw in any way; they are
always at least cooked in a decent amount of olive oil. Most any dish, for that
matter, involves olive oil, typical to the Mediterranean region. Bread, too, is
always present and in vast quantities. Upon request, Antonio will bring a set
of olive oil, vinegar, salt, and pepper for seasoning the bread and food, if
one wishes (though the food is always cooked to perfection, in my opinion).
Living in the residencia definitely provides the opportunity to truly
experience and understand Spanish cuisine, to my great delight. One night,
though, we did have hot dogs, which they called frankfurters. My friends and I,
quite instinctively, picked up our hot dogs and chowed down; as we were
finishing up I noticed that the Spanish students were definitely using their
forks and knives to eat the hot dogs. Typical Americans, eating like
barbarians. Noted. Sometimes, like on hot dog night, ketchup, mayo, and mustard
are set out on the table, along with a sauce called “New York Sauce,” which is
orange-ish and tastes either like ketchup mixed with mayo or spicy ranch – not totally
sure.
To finish the meal, Antonio always offers dessert, and the
options include chocolate mousse, yogurt, mandarin oranges, apples, or homemade
flan with a cookie crust. The oranges are my go-to, for sure. One night I
finally perfected peeling the little orange in a spiral fashion, and apparently
Antonio was not completely pleased with my methods, so he snatched my second
orange, and unpeeled it himself. Sure, he relieved that orange of its peel
quite rapidly, but the peel was in multiple pieces. I’ll stick with my methods
for now, but I now try to do so secretively, as not to displease dear Antonio.
Admittedly, I still do not completely understand what he was trying to show me!
Oh, and I forgot to mention, after unpeeling it he popped a piece of the peel
in his mouth and sauntered off. Naturally, I tried the peel as well, and orange
peels in Spain are no different than at home. Nasty.
For the time being, I think that covers the residencia. A
couple quick notes: 1. There are mirrors everywhere (in most every building
here, actually). 2. The shower is uber small, as in for hardly one person. I
guess rooms and spaces are generally smaller in Europe (and in cities,
typically), but also conservation is much bigger here; motivated by finances
and environmental concerns, Spaniards are very keen on saving electricity and
water. Additionally, these older buildings and structures are simply not built
with the capacity for endless supplies of hot water or nine different charging
electronic devices. 3. Today is Sunday, the only day the dining room is closed,
and I miss Antonio dearly. He’s too cool.
In any event, the hour is late and tomorrow is the first day
of class. The Super Bowl is broadcasting at a few Irish pubs, but I’m opting
out, as things will not get rolling until midnight or so. Enjoy the
festivities, my Americans, and I hope everyone has a delightful start to the
week.
Adios por hora, amigos.
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