Can Borrell

Today my wife and I went out to eat at a traditional Catalan restaurant, Can Borrell. It is situated in the middle of a park and we had to walk about 25 minutes down a wooded path to get there. There is also a dirt road you can take, but we couldn't find it. About 1/4 of the people that were at the restaurant had walked.

We started with a pitcher of sangrea, but a more interesting choice would have been the chilled black wine (two me next to us ordered it). The black wine comes in a glass pitcher that has the pouring nozzle stretched to a point. The men would take turns holding up the pitcher and pouring the wine directly into their mouths. They did this with one hand while the other hand held back their beards. I thought that the chance of me getting through a whole pitcher of the stuff without getting any on my shirt would be minimal.

While we waited for our food, we had bread that came with tomatoes and garlic. When I write tomotoes and garlic, I mean the whole things, completely uncut. When we asked the waiter what we did with the tomatoes and the clove of garlic he tried to explain, but finally gave up and got his own portion to show us. You started by taking the tomato and cutting it in half. Then you rubbed it against the bread, squishing out tomato juice. When the bread has soaked up the tomato, you cut the garlic, and rubbed it on top as well. You finally poured oil over the top. While it was good, I think I prefer having the sause made for me.

A man and his mother on the other side of us had ordered some type of vegetable instead of the bread. It came with plastic gloves and a dipping sause. The vegetable looked a lot like thick spegetti. It was dipped into the sause and then dropped into your mouth. The man was doing the dipping for his mother and they both seemed to be enjoying it.

Our first course was mushrooms after which we had snails and rabbit. The mushrooms were especially good. As we finished, we got 4 large shots of child peppermint schnops. The waiter insisted that this was good for the digestion and gave them to us on the house. It was a good thing that we had plenty of time and that it was a long walk back to the car.

Following the restaurant link, Can Borrell, has some nice pictures of the place. You click on "Mappa" and then click on any of the red dots.

The Birthday Party

Last weekend I went with my daughter to a birthday party for one of her classmates. It was at a stable close to her school. The day started out a little rocky, because there are actually two stables close to her school and I went to the wrong one. The stable I arrived out told me I had to pay 8 euros to get into the party before a girl waiting to ride told me I was at the wrong stable. As she started to walk me to the other stable I'm pretty sure they were telling me I had to move my car, but parking is so difficult I chose not to understand. (One of the rare times where not knowing Spanish has been an advantage).

There were 28 children at the party and most children were brought by their fathers. About 10 of the fathers stayed and 3 or 4 of the mothers. The most interesting parent was the grandfather of the birthday girl. He was in from Madrid where he was the head of the Red Cross. Before heading the Red Cross (which is completely a volunteer job), he was CEO of a petrochemical company. He told me how he was able to pay for college by playing professional soccer and how being on the soccer team, where he had to get allong with people who mostly had very little education, gave him some of the most useful experience for being a successful CEO. He also told me about getting his Master in Chemical Engineering at MIT. He recieved a one year scholorship, so he had to get his masters in one year. His adviser thought it would be impossible, and told him that at a minimum he would have to improve his english. The adviser strongly suggested getting a bed dictionary (i.e. an American girlfried). When he told the adviser that he was married, the MIT advisor told him that his advice still stands. The advisor's secretary was horrified and ended up helping him get through the program without the extracuricular help.

I also met a father that worked in buscit marketting (Formerly with Nabisco but now with a Spanish firm). I asked him about the Jamon with DVD promotion (see previous post). He told me you could also get a free Jamon leg when you bought home insurance or, during the Christmas season, if you bought enough biscuts (and not just any Jamon, but the really good stuff with the black hooves).

The fathers pretty much just talked amoung themselves as the kids went riding and then afterwards, as the kids had snacks. This continued as the boys in the group started running around throwing food at each other. One of the fathers commented something to the effect that boys will be boys. My daughter tells me that this roughty behavior is tollerated at school as well. She commented that, if the Spanish students were transported back to school in Raleigh, the School in Raleigh would have to hire more principals.

Back to College

I've just started my classes in Castillano (Spanish) at the Universitat Autonoma de Barcelona. The class is a mix of people from all over. There is one women from Turkey, one Pallestinian, 4 people from Germany, one from New Zealand, one from China, 2 Americans (me and my wife), and two Italians and an Austrian. The instructor, Pilar, speaks a little bit of English and a little bit of German but tries to only use Castillano.

Getting into the class was a bit of an ordeal. The school has about 15,000 students, so just finding the building for Idiomas Modernas (Modern Languages) took us a while. Once we found it, someone at a desk told us we had to show up again for an information session two weeks later. When we came back for the information session, we waited for about half an hour to be taken into a class room with a group of about 30 students. The profesora collected everyones passport number and then started describing the matriculation processes. After she talked for about 15 minutes an English guy raised his hand and said, “You just described what people who have never had Spanish before should do, maybe beginners would have trouble with what you said because it was all in Spanish”. The teacher looked at him like he was an idiot, and said (in English), “It appears like you understood what I said, but if you like, I'll say it again more slowly.” at which point she started repeating stuff more slowly, but still in Spanish. As she was repeating absolutely everything, the guy interrupted her and said that it wasn't for him, that he understood, at which point the teacher said, “good, if you understand, please let me get through the material” and then she went on to giving new information. I thanked the English guy after class for trying.

Once the session ended, we were able to find out that we had to come back later in the afternoon for a placement test, and then, once again, in another week to register. I skipped the test completely knowing what I would get on it, but my wife tried it. After struggling through the grammar section she thought that maybe she should start in the beginner section too.

We then waited the week before the next hurdle, formal registration. We showed up at the appointed time and there was a line through the building. We ended up waiting an hour and a half until it was our turn at the window. We were then taken to a back room with a person that was sitting in front of a computer. They typed in our name, confirmed that we were going to be in Castellano 1, and then printed out an invoice that we had to bring to one of 3 banks to pay. The whole processes was very mysterious because I couldn't understand why any of it was required, but being a good sheep, I waited my turn. Most of the students waiting seemed to be in very good spirits and the wait didn't seem to phase them at all. I guess this was just a part of university life.

So off we went to the bank and another line. When we finally got to the front, they wouldn't take my bank card to pay the bill. They kept saying, “cash only”. I had the women repeat it a couple of times because: 1 – I didn't think she really spoke English, and 2 – The bill for me and my wife was a little over $1,000. It seemed unbelievable that the bank wouldn't accept a transfer. In the end, I went over to an ATM, got the money, got back in line, and handed over my wad of 20s.

Just to end on a positive note, now that the class has started, I'm very happy with it. The instructor, Pilar, is great (much better than the head of the department who did the orientation). She keeps the class upbeat and interesting even though we all have a very limited Spanish vocabulary. The first day she asked everyone what pais (country) they were from. That is, she asked everyone except the Italians. They showed up about 10 minutes late looking a little disheveled with what looked like 5 O'Clock shadows at 12 in the afternoon. When they came in, before they said a word, she said, “Ah..., Italianos, Si.”

Spanish Pride

The people I've met are filled with pride for the place they live. When I was in a car dealership and asked the salesman how he liked living in Sant Cugat, he answered that, “Sant Cugat is the most beautiful place in the world.” It's great that people feel this way, but it seems to be taken to an extreme where everything here is unquestionably the best. For example, I went and was inquiring about joining a tennis club and I asked whether they had any covered courts. The man answered that they don't need covered courts because, “this is Spain and it is always beautiful in Spain”. I pointed out the window where the rain was pouring down, and he said, “well... todays an exception”.

People are also always bragging about the food, but honestly, a majority of the places we've tried have pretty mediocre food. The food in Raleigh tends to be much better and a lot less expensive. There are some exceptions. The fresh fruits and fresh fish are good, the fish being best when the Spanish cooks do as little to them as possible. If you like ham sandwiches, they have a gazillion types of ham and salami. My wife and I were at a midieval village and ate at a restaurant that advertised O.K. Paellas. We agreed.

While looking with an uncritical eye at your surroundings strikes me as odd, it might have something to do with the Spanish history. It wasn't that long ago that Spain had a dictator and people got hauled off in the middle of the night when neighbors turned each other in for being too critical. I'm told that talking about politics is still avoided in social situations. But despite this history, I still get the feeling that the underlying consensus here is that everything Spanish is the best in the whole world.

Jamon gratis with DVD

The people here love ham (Jamon). Everywhere you go there are stores with little ham sandwiches or bagetts with pork salami. On the way to Collgato (a town with huge caves in the side of a mountain said to inspire Gaudi), we stopped off in a mall for Mexican food. We had to wait for it to open (1:00 PM – too early for lunch), so we walked around. In the electronics section of a store, they had a big promotion. With the purchase of a DVD player you would receive a free pork leg. They had stacks of them on both sides of the DVD player. Each pork leg was from the hooves all the way up to where the leg connected into the body. They were dried and salted, and apparently made for a wonderful treat no matter what movie you were watching.

Yom Kippur

Yesterday was Yom Kippur so we went into Barcelona for the service. After finding a congregation on the Internet, I was surprised that they didn't provide an address with their contact information. I had to email and then they gave me an invitation and the location. We also had to bring our passports in order to get into the service. Apparently antisemitism is a problem here. On the website, they said that within a week of putting up a holocaust memorial statue, it was broken in half.

The nice part about the service was that it was still familiar. This is one of the advantages of having much of the service in Hebrew. Of course, my understanding of the 20 minute sermon was something like this: There were three students who Blah, Blah, Blah. And then the Rabi said Blah, Blah, Blah. A few days later we went over to the house of one of the congregation members and found out that the sermon was actually pretty good.

Another difference was in the transliteration. Because lots of people don't read Hebrew, all the prayers have the phonetic translations underneath the Hebrew. The phonetics were completely different than they would be in the states. It makes sense, since many letters are pronounced differently in Spanish, but it still took me a few minutes to figure it out.

Gender confusion

My wife just sent out this email to some friends. I thought it was funny so include it here:

Help! After all these years, I find myself facing a gender crisis. No, not the sexual orientation kind - the language kind. Being a Filipino, I am afflicted with the disease of mixing up my English pronouns. In the Tagalog (Filipino) language, our pronouns are
generic and can be used for either sex. I occasionally hear my son exasperatedly say "Mom, you just called me a 'her'." when this disease strikes.

Now, we're living in Spain where everything - and I mean everything - is either a male or a female. A table is not an "it" but a "she" and the floor that I walk on feels superior because he's a he. The rule is, if the name for a thing ends with the letter "a", it's a female; "o", it's a male. All the pronouns, adjectives and adverbs have to match the gender accordingly.

This rule confuses me because it is not always followed. "Dias" is the plural form of "dia" which ends in "a" but you use "buenos" with it. "Noches", on the other hand, is plural for "noche" which ends in "e" but sounds like it should be male because it has the letter "o" in it, is paired with "buenas". It irks me to get corrected whenever I slip and say "Buenas dias". It's their own rule that's messed-up, not me.

Furthermore, I just found out that I have male and female body parts. My eyes are male (ojos), my mouth is female (boca), so on and so forth. Then, there are gq's (gender questionable) parts such as my nariz (nose)or mofletes (cheeks). Are they male of female (androgynous, maybe)? Do having male and female parts make me a hermaphrodite?

I am so gender conflicted. I want everyone to learn how to speak Tagalog so I don't have to worry about sex anymore - instead, I can just relax and enjoy IT!

Spanish Hours

Yesterday I took a trip with my wife out to Sitges. It is a city on the Mediterranean that seems to have been around for a long time. It has lots of narrow cobblestone streets surrounded by stone buildings with people selling cloths, jewelery, food, art, and furniture. My wife wanted to buy some jeans that were being sold in an outside stall. When she asked if she could try them on, the vendor said go ahead. The vendor expected my wife to try them on right out in the public area. Aparently this is pretty common. There are some things about Spain that you just have to love.

Sitges also seems to have a thriving resort industry. There are several smaller hotels that are across from a very nice beach and some rocky cliffs. We arrived about noon and after walking around for a bit we ended up in an art gallery. We thought about buying a painting, but decided to hold off. While we were leaving we asked the curator what time he would be open until in case we wanted to stop back. He was closing at 2, and then he would reopen sometime around 4 (depending on how lunch went) and then stay open to 4:30, 5:00, maybe even 6:00 depending on how he was feeling. I think these were about the hours for all the retail stores. After eating lunch at 1:00 (a sea side cafe with a patio with a great view, mediocre food), almost nothing was opened. The streets that had been packed with people, had relatively few people left. Most of the people around seemed to be closing up. The restaurants were full with people having leisurely lunches. Two to Four is the standard lunch “hour”. This is not limited to Sitges, but is also the same in Sant Cugat.

Earlier in the day I had stopped by the bank to pick up my ATM card. It had taken 3 weeks to get the card and required going back to the bank 4 times. They had made a mistake on the first pass at opening the account (they originally opened the account with me listed as having a NIH number) which added about a week to the process. The person I worked with at the bank was very nice, but said that she was tired because she was accustomed to the branch closing at 2:00. In the fall the branch extends its hours to include from 5 until 8:30. 8:30 is about when people start having dinner and it is when most of the restaurants open in the evening.

The delays at the bank weren't so bad because the main reason I wanted the account was to be able to pay for the kid's school (you have to pay by transfering money). On the kid's first day of school I went in to let them know that I had not received a bill. The women working in the office (who is extremely nice) said that the beginning of the school year is a very busy time, so she hadn't had a chance to put our bill together yet. She asked me if I was planning to pay the bill when it came. I said yes. She said, “then don't worry about it. I'll get to it soon.” It has been about three weeks and I still haven't gotten the bill.

Weirdness in the park

Across from our house, there is a park where I walk our dog. It is the side of a hill that has winding paths leading to the top. At the top there is a little mound that is raised. (The mound reminds me of a hobbit hovel, minus the front door and windows.) There are apartments on 2 sides of the mound, but the view out the other direction is across the valley.

Each morning I walk the dog to the top of the hill and I've come to know a couple of the other dog owners in the area. It seems that most people let their dogs run free through the park (though there is a rule that you have to keep your dogs on a leash), and no one seems to clean up after their dog (though there is a rule that everyone has to clean up after their dog). Many rules seem to be disregarded. For example, just driving through town you see cars parked everywhere that doesn't directly block other traffic. If there is a sidewalk that someone can drive up on, there is a car parked there. When I go to pick up the kids at school there is a traffic circle that is 2 lanes. About once every 4 days there is a policeman standing there to call a tow truck if anyone parks in the circle. If the policeman is not there, everyone parks in the outer lane of the circle. The biggest danger to parking there is that the Spanish policeman doesn't seem to have a good sense of time, so sometimes he's late (at which point the tow truck actually gets someone).

But, back to the point about the weirdness. On Sunday morning I go to walk my dog in the park. On Sunday mornings almost nobody seems to be awake. The normally busy street in front of the house is completely quiet. I get to the top of the hill and there are 2 shinny new BMWs parked in front of the hobbit hovel. There are 5 well dressed men that look to be in there late 20s talking between the cars and drinking a few beers. This is odd for several reasons. First, you don't see shinny cars anywhere. Nobody seems to clean their cars here and fancy cars like BMWs are relatively rare. Second, why would anyone drive to the middle of the field. There is usually parking around the front of the surrounding apartments a short walk away from the park. Third, why are they drinking beer at 7:30 in the morning? Forth, what are they even doing up, it's 7:30 in the morning. My wife thought they were just continuing parting from the night before, but I don't think she is right. They looked freshly showered and wide awake. I might have gone over and asked, but my Spanish just isn't good enough, and even if it was, I'm not sure it would have been such a good idea. If I solve the mystery, I'll put up another post, but I think this is just going to be one of those unanswered questions.

First Party

Friday night we had our first dinner party in Sant Cugat. We invited 3 other couples that we had met at the kids school. One couple had moved here from Madrid over the summer. Another couple had lived for 5 years in Connecticut after the husband graduated from Tuck(?) (Dartmouth's business school). The husband of the third couple had lived in LA for a while. It isn't exactly a prerequisite, but speaking English makes it much more likely you get invited to one of our parties.

We were told that it was fairly unusual to have several people over and that usually a group this big would meet at a restaurant. About 45 minutes before everyone arrived, we realized that we didn't have enough silverware or place settings so I went zipping out to the local mall. There they have a local super market, Eroski, that has everything. It is sort of odd to have a store that sells fish also sell cell phones, shoes, and CDs but you can get it all at Eroski. We now have place settings for 18.

The party went pretty much like one would in the states. I think that they seemed a bit more reticent than Americans to talk about themselves or say anything controversial, but it was a fun group and we had a good time. Champaign, or the Spanish version that seemed equivalent to me, is big here. Each couple brought 2 bottles. (Though the group from Madrid said they only brought it because the flower shop was closed.)