¡Esto es España, amiga!

                  It is hard to believe that not even seven days have passed, as I feel that I´ve been here for weeks. Perhaps, it is that for the most part, things have not changed since I saw them or experienced them last. Valencia is still Valencia, and Spain is still Spain.

                Now, at 9-11 AM, when I walk past the little bar on the corner and the string of others on my way to wherever, I´m not surprised to see tables of 2, 3, or 6 feasting on bocadillos (sandwiches), olives, pincho de tortilla (Spanish omelet), accompanied by a cerveza (beer), or glass of wine. While this scene is no longer unexpected, it still prompts a genuine smile. In the past, I´d smile because thinking of such a scene in the States made me laugh inside. But now I smile knowing that this year I get to revel in the traditions that are fueled by what seems to be an innate conviction here: life is to be enjoyed, and to carry out this notion time and effort should and will be sacrificed. This time, I smile because it is 10:30 AM on a Wednesday as I walk past a table of three, decorated with sandwiches, a bottle of wine, laughter and what seems to be good conversation—realizing this is no longer exotic to me, rather a brilliant reality.

                 And if I had any doubts that this was my reality for the next year (give or take), the past two “comidas” (lunches) would have convinced me otherwise.

                                                                                   (Pre-comida en Cullera) 

A brief explanation of “La comida”: In Spain, “la comida” is comparable to our lunch / middle meal. Here, it the largest meal of the day, typically served from 2 PM-4:30 PM. In most (if not all other) Spanish speaking countries “comida” is the word used to talk about food in general. If that weren´t confusing enough, “almuerzo” elsewhere is the word for lunch, while here in Spain almuerzo refers to the snack around 10 or 11 AM. 

 On Friday, Esteban and I met some of his friends at the little Italian restaurant around 2:30 PM and enjoyed a delicious 3 course meal and good conversation.  Around 4:30 PM, a waiter kindly told us they would be closing. At 4:50 PM they told us they were closing. And, around 5:15 PM we actually left. Likewise, yesterday´s “comida” at Esteban´s aunt and uncle´s beach house in Cullera lasted about 3 hours.  Reality: This is España, friend.

                           

                                                      (Cullera) 

                                                                                     (Paella-la comida en Cullera)

                While I encounter and live what are now somewhat familiar traditions, I also am learning and experiencing new. For example, grocery store rush: 8-9 PM. Why? 1. There are groceries stores all over the city, and consequently, one close to almost everyone’s house. This makes it easy to stop by before dinner. 2. A lot of people wait until right before dinner to “hacer la compra” (go shopping). 

                I know about the rush, because a few days ago, I was one of the customers hurrying down the stairs to make it next door before Mercadona (the grocery store) closed. I meandered along, picking up the few things that were needed for dinner and for me. Although it wasn´t on my list, I stopped in the cookie isle, just to “look” at my favorite snacks: Tosta Rica cookies, and Rebuenas (cookie sandwiches with chocolate in the middle). Then, I thought, well… I´ve already been spoiling myself at every meal, why not buy some Tosta Rica cookies? No. No, another day. (I purchased them the next J ). When I finally snapped out of cookie land I realized that the store was about to close, so I made my way quickly to the 3 small, but extremely busy, conveyor belts. I tossed my items on the belt, as I carefully observed the transaction taking place before me.

Digression 2:  I prefer not to stand out as an American—in fact, my goal is for those around me to believe I am Spanish until I tell them otherwise. Since God has blessed me with brown hair, brown eyes, olive skin, a decent ability to imitate accents, my primary job is to take in the details, from the fascinating to the mundane.

                As the man gathered his groceries and started to walk away, a blue piece of paper on the ground caught my eye. Wait… that wasn´t paper, it was money—a bill of 20 €. I quickly called after the man heading out the door—sure that the bill had slipped out in his haste to hand the cashier his money and get out of the store. He took a few steps back toward me, looked at the bill and with a confused look announced it wasn´t his. He then advised me to keep it. “Lo has encontrado tú” (You found it). I looked to the cashier, thinking maybe I should give it to her, but she merely nodded approvingly of the recommendation her previous customer had just given me.  I quickly shoved the bill in my pocket and proceeded with the checkout.

                When I made it back up the stairs and into the house I excitedly shared the anecdote with Pilar and María (Esteban´s mom and sister). Pilar was surprised at my honesty (not personally, rather culturally—I hope) said something along the lines of -you are too kind/sweet- she said. María, was more candid with her response: If you find 20 € you pick it up and put it in your pocket without a word. “¡Esto es España, amiga!” she said.