To Iberia And Beyond

Bringing Spanish Tastes to Montclair

The other day I tried to do something I have wanted to do since I got to Spain: make a Spanish tortilla.

The goal was to make something that looked like that but it is not as easy as it looks. What you do is you slice potatoes into thinnish pieces, cook them in oil at low heat so as to soften them up but not fry them, drain the oil, replace with a bunch of eggs, cook, flip, cook, flip, eat. I kept getting caught up at the same stage, not the flipping part (surprisingly enough) but to flip the tortilla from the pan to a plate to slide back in and cook the other side you need to separate them, but my tortilla always gets stuck to the pan. I think I need to cook it more to fix that issue, if that's not the solution I'm not sure what is. In the end the taste of my tortillas is fine, but the presentation is lacking. Everyone has said it is fine, but I disagree. I have seen too many perfect tortillas to let mine be anything less.

There are a few variations of the tortilla, but I am not going to mess with my methods yet because:
1. I haven't gotten it right with the basics yet
2. Thin sliced potatoes are better than the chunk potato method
3. I am following Pepi's plan and I don't want to mess with perfection.

As this dish is based on oil, salt, potatoes and eggs it'll be easy to translate to the US. Yes I have to futz with the rations since our eggs are smaller but our potatoes are bigger than in Spain, but it's still the same stuff. I am, however, worried about trying anything with milk.

Milk and butter is different in different countries. Milk classification is based on its percentage of butter fat but these classifications are not unified internationally. Whole milk in the US is 3.25% fat and is very rarely used for drinking. In France I am pretty sure what we were drinking had the same fat content as our half and half. It took me a long time to figure out why it was so different, but I think that is it. I spoke with an American friend in France who has lived there for many years and she mentioned that the percentages of fat in butter in France and the US is different which causes some issues.

So now I am wondering what do I do if I want to follow one of Pepi's recipes that required regular Spanish milk. Do I go for whole milk, half-and-half? Should I just get my own cow and experiment? I'll figure something out and let you guys know how "being a cultural bridge" works out.

Oh and my mom bought a blender the other day. Gazpacho here I come!

Reverse Culture Shock: Readjusting to English

As Spanish is not my first language, my ears give it second priority to English. I will always be able to tune out Spanish easier than I can English, and I will be able to listen to English better than I can listen to Spanish. I think this is not a unique phenomenon as I noticed that in France, Melanie did not seem to hear me as well as she did in Spain. It is not anyone’s fault, it is simply hard to switch between languages, so when you are focused in one you aren’t listening for another, or in my case, when you don’t have to work as much for one, you will prioritize it.

So why does this come up in reverse culture shock? It is simple: I eavesdropped a lot abroad. I know it is frowned upon and horribly rude, but I couldn’t help it. I loved listening to the conversation in English that some tourists would be having when they were lost, or some study abroad students just chilling out. The thing is generally it wouldn’t be so bad for me to admit to eavesdropping in Spain as it was usually fun to meet another native English speaker. It wasn’t so weird to say “sorry, I heard you said _____, I think that is _____,” and launch into a conversation about European culture and culture shock. It wasn’t so bad since it was a little special. Speaking English was like flashing the secret sign to a not-so-exclusive club we were both in. When overhearing someone comment about their own culture shock, by addressing them in their same language you are really telling them that you understand and they are not alone. As speaking up when you are eavesdropping* in this context can be vaguely reassuring, sometimes it is even welcomed.

So after seven months of being admittedly a little sketch to my peers (although adults generally liked it, I got along well with adult tourists) my English sonar is very fine tuned. This presents a little problem now as I am very sensitive to the language that everyone is speaking here. I am having trouble focusing in on a conversation and I feel like everywhere I am is very loud. You might say it is just because Americans are loud, but that is not why places seem loud. It seems loud because I am trying to focus in on too much English and am being overwhelmed by it all. Canton Ohio cannot be louder than Paris, so I think it is the linguistic sensitivity thing.

I am also still getting over the fact that all my conversations are starting in English. I spoke in English in France and Spain, but I would always try to be polite and speak in the host nation’s language first. In France I would at least try to say “excuse me sir/ma’am, but where am I?” in French before giving up and saying “parlez-vous angles o espagnol?” But the host language here IS English so I feel like I am skipping the preliminaries and going right to the main event when I talk with a waiter or cashier. 

The most bothersome part of linguistic readjustment is that I am having troubles speaking in English. I have caught myself starting to say a Spanish word while I am chatting several times which means I am stumbling over myself far more than normal. It is slightly amusing to see how rusty I am, but it is odd and a little frightening that my 2009 self speaks English differently than my 2008 self. My mom said that I have more of a monotone now. That might be explained partially by the fact that I am tired, but I am speaking differently. I have forgotten some small turns of phrases, so I feel like sometimes I am getting the lyrics to a well known song wrong. Today I referred to being in a “gray line” instead of a “gray area.” I now somewhat jokingly say “that’s how you say it in English right?” after correcting a wrong turn of phrase. The language feels like putting on an old baseball mitt^.

Because I feel slightly less comfortable in English now, sometimes I do just want to speak in Spanish. My parents had visited Guatemala when they were younger, but they have forgotten most of their Spanish so I cannot speak it with them. It is very odd that now I have this Spanish knowledge, but I can’t do anything with it. I have no need or opportunity to speak Spanish. This unease is exacerbated by the fact that I am visiting relatives so I am now visiting people and places I have known all my life, but I cannot speak to them in the way I have been speaking for seven months. A cousin of mine and my sister study Spanish and are pretty good at it, but once you establish a relationship in one language, it is hard to change the language.

Of course, this will all be soon corrected as I won’t shut up now and can’t stop telling anyone who will listen about my adventure. After two eight hour car rides with my parents, I am very impressed by the fact that they haven’t told me to give it a rest yet. But I will try to tone it down since I feel a bit guilty about how much I am talking

.

*I’ve heard to this referred to as eavestalking, but I think it would make more sense as eaves-talking as it eliminates the “stalking” part. Also, we don’t need a new phrase for it as we already have one: butting in.

^Thanks to Heather for helping me figure out that metaphor

Reverse Culture Shock: What is Normal?

Greetings from Highland Park Illinois! The last two nights I was in Canton Ohio, the night before that I was in Montclair New Jersey and the night before that I was in Aubervilliers France. Whew.

Most travel blogs would stop once their author returned home, but as I do not have a clearly defined sense of home and do not feel settled at all I will keep posting for a while more. Plus I still haven’t talked about most of my time in France, nor have I finished talking about my Spring Break, nor have I even mentioned the fact that I went to Asturias and Germany. So I still have many posts ahead of me to write; be excited.

I am now back in the United States and I am having a hard time readjusting. I feel more unsure and confused now than I did when I first got to Spain (the misadventure about going to the wrong house aside). I think it is because I went to Spain knowing that I will face a host of new sights, ideas, sounds, smells, habits, foods and pretty much everything else. That kept me on my toes which made me well prepared to face the challenges of life abroad. But coming back has been hard because I had the entirely wrong mentality. My Georgetown program hosted a talk on dealing with reverse culture shock, but instead of going home right after that, I spent two months in France. Thus, while I was prepared for reverse culture shock, I just got a lot more of the normal kind. 

I came back to the US thinking that I was going back to where everything would be “normal” for me again. But, I had a taste of my current problems with the highly charged word of “normal” on my British Airways flight from England to the US. A flight attendant asked me if I wanted tea or coffee, I asked what kind of tea there was and she said “the normal kind.” I did not know what she meant. Normal tea (the cousin of Honest Tea) for me in France was actually a berry infusion popular in Germany. Normal tea for me in Andalucía was Moroccan sweet tea. Normal tea for me in Salamanca was a Lipton Earl Grey. It ended up being a black tea, my first cup of black tea in my seven months of tea in Europe. I guess I am abnormal in the eyes of British Airway flight attendants.  I came back thinking that things would be familiar and comfortable, but in my few days home I have already felt very out of place and confused, not to mention the jet lag.

Thus starts what promises to be an unusual part of this travel blog: the documentation of my re-entry into American society. I know that most of my audience is American so me turning the lens to examine our country may come across as odd. But it is odd for me too. I am now surprised and confused by things that were normal to me eight months ago and I am not sure if I will be able to explain my state of mind as clearly now than I was able to earlier. Self-examination is always tough.

Although I am physically within the United States, I still feel that I am on the outside looking in. This unusual situation of being outside my own culture is compounded by the issue that I am both being invited to delve back into it, as it surrounds me and thus forces me to participate in it, but I am also being asked (and volunteering) to tell of my adventures abroad. My readjustment is made more difficult as I cannot let myself (nor do I particularly want to) let go of my memories of Europe. I could more easily acclimate myself to European life as I wished to temporarily shed my Americanism and put on a new skin. But while I was ready to come home, I was not ready to readjust to American culture.

Really, I just want to eat my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but I still want to eat it at 3pm and then take a siesta.