Sevilla: Where bechamel is universal...

So I'm trying to right these posts every 2 days because sometimes nothing too great happens in one day.What I do is write a phrase or a word to remind myself of something I want to talk about. I just opened up this draft and the first thing I see that I wrote was "I don't know what the fuck I just ate." I laughed. I had the most mysterious dinner of all time 2 days ago.

Usually when I come downstairs for a meal I try to sneak a peek at whatever Pepi is making. On this day, I saw her frying up some potatoes and another plate with some lettuce. But from my seat at the table, I couldn't figure out what she was turning in the pan. It looked like chicken on the bone, but I wasn't sure. When Pepi put it down in front of us I had no idea what I was about to cut into. So there I went... I cut into it and was lost for words. It was fried on the outside, and there was an egg on the inside. Then around the egg was a mushy white sauce or cheese or something. I looked at Marissa with panic in my eyes and said, "Dude, I have no idea what this is." She always looks at me like I'm the mom when it comes to food. In the 10 seconds between Pepi putting the plate down and going back into the kitchen, we just looked at each other with sheer terror in our eyes. I think Pepi knew that I was scared because I wouldn't look up at her and tell her how delicious it was... NOT. She kept saying a word that sounded like bechamel, which would make perfect sense. The white creamy crap was bechamel. But a cooked, full egg, with bechamel and some fried stuff... no thank you! It was rough, let me tell you. I had to cut up my food into pieces and coach myself into finishing it. "Okay Sara, only three more pieces. After this one, only two left..." That's what it came down to. 

Pepi, the awesome cook we thought she was is going down hill quickly. Not only are her cooking skills going downhill, but she's aging rapidly. We've been here for three weeks and every day we find her to be getting older. For example, she naps more often, she is more deaf, more blind, and repeats everything she says. I guess three weeks here means ten years really..

But back to food. The same bechamel sauce that I HATED was in our lasagna. The first lasagna was a big hit. This second lasagna, wow oh wow. There was mystery meat in it. Again, same faces, Marissa looks at me with the "Uh, Mom? What the hell is this?" face and I'm giving her the "Oh my God, I have no idea." That's when you know it's bad, when me, Sara Elizabeth Mintzer, the food freak can't figure out what I'm eating. The bechamel sauce was everywhere, the meat, we had no idea... it was just BAD. Same thing as before, I had to coach myself into finishing it. I really hated that texture.

If I eat one more bowl of lame, chicken-noodle-no-flavor-needs-salt-and-i'm-tired-of-eating-cauliflower-soup I think I will cry. Pepi claims she needs variety in her diet... well I don't see variety! Everything is prepared early, everything is reheated from the freezer, and her microwave is her best friend. Oh and how did I forget to mention we had round 3 of hotdogs. Pepi put the ketchup on the table. I looked and laughed at Marissa and said, "HA, I bet it's hotdogssss." And she said, "No! No, Sara really. I'm going to cry." Yep, I was right. I couldn't make eye contact with her for the entire meal because I wanted to burst into laughter multiple times. My little vegetarian eating hotdogs... so funny. But she was such a good sport and ate all of it. 

I don't know how it's taken me three weeks to remember to finally write about this, but our ring to the house phone here, is legitimately Hevenu Shalom Aleichem. I'm not joking. It's the same exact tune. I've thought about telling Pepi multiple times that it's the same song as a prayer in my culture, but trying to explain to her that I was Jewish when I didn't know what the word was in Spanish was really difficult. I think I said, "A religion, not catholic, but...." No response, just confusion. So I haven't bothered with the phone thing. Maybe I'll attempt that on Thursday when I have no class.

On Thursday,I hung out with Pepi in the morning. Out of nowhere, she got up from our conversation and starting cleaning under the kitchen sink on all fours. She was scraping some crap off of the floor with a chef's knife... you know, like a huge knife. What an image. Pepi in her house dress, in sneakers, on all fours, scraping the floor with a knife, with her ass in the air. I was just sitting on the couch in sheer confusion. Why at this moment did she need to do that? Who knows. 

The following day we came downstairs to get a piece of toast for breakfast (I know, big meal) and she was cleaning the floors. She always wants us to sit and eat so she pushed us into the living room to eat our 2 bites of bread that we had left while she cleaned the stairs. Ugh, we were trapped! She comes in and put the blanket over us, and the table cloth blanket, and we are sitting there like two little children who were just tucked in by mommy. What were we watching? Volleyball. Nothing is ever on tv. We couldn't even tell what teams were playing. How did we get ourselves in this situation? Trapped, hungry, snuggled under a blanket, watching Spanish volleyball. Oh our lives!

Which leads me to television here. God forbid there was an English station! Nope. If we watch MTV, we can sometimes hear the English in the background, but the shows are so stupid that I would rather watch Spanish news. They have a station here that I guess would be like E! It talks about famous people, and then every now and then talks about real news. Pepi loves this channel. Every day it's the same people... Penelope Cruz and her husband Javier Bardem, some old woman who had a lot of plastic surgery, Shakira, Ricky Martin, Enrique Iglesias, and clips of famous stars today as child stars. Go figure. Oh, Lady Gaga pops up every now and then too. It's the same shit every, single day. The other channels are either soccer, or more news. The other day I saw a commercial for something like the Magic Bullet. You know, that thing you can put almost anything in and you can make yourself a smoothie or nachos in less than 30 seconds. Well here, it's the same thing, but with shrimp and rice. The product and commercial are changed to fit the customer which makes perfect sense. McDonalds here serves beer and one of there snack wraps is curry flavored. Who knows. The fries tasted exactly the same and wow, it was heavenly.

I had my first churro with chocolate with Jordyn the other day. I thought it would be actual chocolate, but really it was hot chocolate.. like the warm beverage. So we dipped our churro into the hot chocolate.. and then I drank it. Supposedly the best churro place is right around the corner from my house so we might venture off and do that today.

The weekend here was really fun. We went to Alemeda de Hercules which is an area full of bars in el centro, but didn't find too many people to be there. We then went to the Alfalfa area, again.. a strip of bars and met lots of locals. I personally met a James Dean look a like. That's all I'll say about that... and then then the next night we went to Abril which is a really cool club. When we walked in and our eyes weren't used to the light, everyone looked pretty good looking. About five minutes later, when our eyes adjusted, nope... not too many lookers, just creepers. We pretty much stayed to ourselves, danced and had a great time. 

I wound up not going out last night because I was so tired. Marissa and I went for a walk in the center. It was really busy since it was a Saturday. Some weird parade was going on. It looked like Chinese New Year. We ran into multiple people we knew also. Penn State and Sevilla both have 40,000 people. So at school when you go out, you usually run into three people you know. It's the same thing here. It's such a perfect city. We finally figured out it's only a 30 minute walk to the center. We experienced Starbucks for the first time being here. We've heard mixed reviews. Marissa said her drink tasted normal. I opted on skipping the caffeine and going for the $5 pasta salad. It had mozzerella and tomato in it. I had to. I couldn't resist. 

Pepi just fed us for the next five years in one sitting. I saw the plate of smoked salmon and knew she would make me finish it... and that was just the appetizer. She put down a huge plate of meat and potatoes stew with carrots and peas and my bowl of food was way bigger than Marissa's. And we had 2 empanada little things on the side... and pears. Marissa snuck a pear before we ate and said they were really bad. Luckily, I got the good pear. So watching her crunch on her pear cubes was hysterical to me because I had the juicy delicious one. I'm not used to eating fruit three times a day. Maybe it will be a healthy habit I bring back to the states with me. It only took twenty one years and to live in another country to learn that fruit is good for you, but oh well. 

And for the record, I was right about the salmon. I had to eat every last drop. When I cut off the brown bits that were on the edges she was throroughly confused, and I was too lazy to figure out the best way to say, "Since I was little, I always cut off the brown part of salmon. No kid likes the brown part," but that was way too complicated to think about in less than three seconds. It's amazing how you have to trick your brain to say a sentence in Spanish. Unless I'm walking around with Google Translator on my laptop, I have to figure out how to say certain things by using the few words I know. Talking to a Spaniard in person is one thing. They can see from your expressions that you need time to process. When you're chatting on Facebook with them, that's another story. I spoke to someone for two hours in Spanish trying to make plans for the night. Do you know how hard that is!? My back hurt from the stress, and I needed a nap.

I've stopped talking at lunch. I've run out of things to say. I've run out of questions to ask. I'm so glad we will be traveling a lot because I'm getting exhausted of Pepi-time. We are going to Paris on Friday, and I am extremely excited. Booking all of these trips is not as easy as it looks, but we're doing out best. I cannot wait to eat my way through Europe :-)

Sevilla: Where you're either stuffed or starving...

Last night we went out since we didn't have to be at our UPO orientation until 5ish. Here in Sevilla, there is a very special drink called Agua de Sevilla. It's served in a big pitcher and contains whiskey, cognac, pineapple juice, champagne and some other things. When the concoction is done being prepared, the lovely bartender tops it off with whipped cream. You're supposed to stir the whipped cream into the alcohol and it tastes like an orange sherbet drink. Before I got the memo on mixing it, I went right for the whipped cream. BIG mistake. You know how I said milk here is a little weird, well then that would make the whipped cream weird here too.... yup! No exaggeration, it tasted exactly like the whipped version of the cheese that I have every day for lunch and dinner. I was NOT a fan. You would think this is a simple concept, but it's not. It's not like our whipped cream in America tastes like Kraft Singles. I guess the cheese we eat every day here is a very, very simple and bland cheese because it tasted exactly like the whipped cream.And then for the whipped cream they must not add sugar. After getting the "mixing memo" it tasted way better, but that is not a drink that should just sit around. Weird floaty milk bits that smell cheesy should not be in a bar. So if you ever get one, drink it quick. I'm still having nightmares from that cream.

After getting some Agua, we went to Club Abril. It's right next to my house and is a really popular place.... but not on a Monday. None of us cared though. Somehow when one person goes out, we all go out, and we always wind up in the same place. We're a fun group though. Talk about a bunch of dancing queens. If our group wasn't there, I'd say there would be about 20 Spanish dudes just hanging out with each other. We kept questioning why they were there though. If you're a Spaniard you know not to go to Abril on a Monday. Maybe they anticipated the stupid Americans. Probably...

Today for lunch, pork again. Pork, half a plate of homemade french fries, the second course was a salad (also known as lettuce) and a huge piece of fried fish. I actually had to tell myself, "Okay, breathe, but eat quickly or else you're not going to make a dent in this." I looked down and thought I was eating two meals. Three out of the four items were cooked in oil, but I haven't gained any weight yet. I check every few days expecting to be 20 pounds heavier one day, but I'm still okay. Thank goodness for all of that walking. 

Marissa and I went upstairs and started talking about lunch. She asked me what we ate today, she had no idea. Chicken or pork? Silly vegetarians. She said her taste buds for meat haven't returned yet. Then she asked me what kind of fish we had. Who the hell knows. Some kind of crappy white fish fried to shit.

Later in the day we had  UPO orientation. How to describe the Universidad Pablo de Olavide.... I must quote my friend Alex Kozela, "I'm trying to think of what UPO, the school I'll be attending for the next few months, resembles the most. It's like a cross between an apocalyptic American public high school, a low-security correctional facility, a row of apartments built in Communist Poland, and Chernobyl." Well said. But with that being said, it really is a great university and is known for their research in bio. One of the three official table tennis facilities in the world is also located at UPO. Go figure.

I got all of the classes I wanted and was placed into the Spanish class that I chose. Also, I received my score from the placement exam and their recommendation of level matched up with the one I chose so I didn't have to switch around any classes. I guess they liked my soup story...

I have class on Mondays and Wednesdays, and one film class on Tuesdays. I have the exact same classes as Marissa, but on a completely opposite schedule. I have three classes back to back and we heard it's extremely rude to eat in class so I guess I will be shoving my bocadillo down my throat as I run to class. 

I haven't talked about anything funny yet in this post so I might as well tell you all about the amazing conversation we all had over dinner the other night with Pepi. The topic: breasts. It started off with Pepi pointing to the tv at every single woman who had some kind of plastic surgery done to her body. Every day we see someone with blown up lips. Somehow she started talking about how huge fake boobs are gross. Uh oh, does Pepi think mine are fake!? She told me how "bonita" mine are. We all sat there discussing big boobs, small boobs, fake boobs, pregnant boobs. Wow, oh wow. Then she started talking about how her breasts looked when she was pregnant, then when she wasn't pregnant, and how they will look in a few years.... By the end of the conversation we think that Pepi said she wants small fake breasts. The three of us were hysterically laughing throughout that one. It was so real, and honest. It was so unbelievably funny. We can't understand every word, but we definitely can have a full conversation with the woman. Every day is weather, cheese, weather, cheese, weather, cheese, so to talk about something so normal was really great. 

At dinner tonight I wasn't THAT starving like usual because we had tapas after the UPO orientation. We all ran over to the cafeteria for the "reception" and hovered over the platters of food eating like little mice. Cheese, ham, tortilla (and eggs and potato dish that is really popular here)...All of the usual suspects at a Spanish fiesta. I stole a few olives, grabbed another tapa and went home. When dinner time rolls around I'm usually ready to eat my arm off. There's only two extremes here, stuffed or starving. But today since I had a little snack, I wasn't dying for once. So I'm sitting there looking at the cheese plate and there are four pieces of cheese. Two are stacked to the left facing Marissa, two to the right, towards me. Oh no, I knew what Pepi was getting at! I usually would eat eat it, but I wasn't that hungry. Neither one of us ate it. We finished our meal, plates were stacked and Pepi, with this sad innocent face says "No one wants the cheese?" She actually was sad that we, or me, didn't finish the cheese. No wasn't good enough. I had to explain that I had some food right before and there was queso there. I'm so sorry Pepi, I cheated on you with some other cheese. You will have to forgive me...

The other day at lunch I actually did want the last piece of cheese and right before I asked if anyone else wanted it, she looks at me and says, "You have that cheese," giving me permission. She didn't even look at Marissa and ask if she wanted it. She just knows me so well! Then, she had some fancy piece of bread from Cordoba. She offers me, no not offers me, gives me the roll. I kept saying no, no, my cracker is fine. No is not acceptable to her. You take it, you take it. No, no, no. Finally I took it and split it in half. Again, she didn't even offer Marissa the fancy bread. I think she realizes Marissa is a normal eater, and that I have extra special taste buds. Cracks me up. Literally forced the bread at me. "Es muy bueno, es muy bueno." Thanks Pepi.

Sevilla: Where unicorns and dinosaurs do exist...

Waking up is brutal, really brutal. You know how when you were a little kid and you wanted to sleep a few more minutes you could manage to get your mother to drive you to school even though she really didn't want to? Well here, that's not an option. I guess if you want, you could pay for a taxi, but I'm only doing that for an emergency situation. So here, when the final alarm goes off, we're up. Between the two us, I'd say we have 8 alarms. We think this slowly helps us get up... a theory I have been a supporter of for years upon years, but really, its crap. The minute you hit snooze, you are zonked out again and the next alarm sucks just as much as the first.

Yesterday we had to wake up early to go hiking. We expected sunny skies and warm weather like we have had the past 2 weeks. But no, life can't be that good. I was wearing 3 sweatshirts and a northface jacket, leggings and sweat pants, gloves and a hood, and I was freezing my ass off. Some people didn't bring coats. No I'm sorry, just one friend, but a tour guide gave her a big jacket to wear. But honestly, no one was prepared for how cold it really was outside. We all had to stand in a circle for our "warm up." Our guide had a thick accent so when he said the following word... it sounded like: wannnn. Wan? Was that "one" or "when?" We all looked confused. He said everyone turn to your right and say wannnn (while stroking the back of the person you are facing.) So we did. Then turn to the other side. Group: "Wannnn." We were all mocking him. Then he said now turn and say, "Wannnn, two." Oh! One, two. You were saying "one"!? So we stroked each others backs and kept counting, exaggerating how to say the word "one" of course. By the end I think it was to warm each other up. Strange.

Most of the hike was pretty easy, more of a stroll through the mud. We walked through 4 towns total. They were all really quaint and none of our friends could figure out who the hell would live there, but all of the locals looked like normal, happy people. In our first town, there was some big drinking thing with supposedly the best tasting water ever. I tasted it... it didn't even come close to Aquafina's standards. Then, we took a few more steps around a corner and there was a little boy holding a baby Maltese... a baby Opal!! I couldn't control myself. I followed that boy right into the bar and had to get a better look. It seriously was the cutest puppy I have ever seen. There were dogs everywhere on our hike. We would come to an old rusty fence and right behind it would be a beautiful dog tied to a tree. It broke my heart. One of the guys on my trip jumped the fence and immediately the dog starting crying it was so happy. He rolled over and just cried and cried and cried and just wanted to be loved. It was hard leaving that one. Then we came to another dog, same thing. Just wanted to be loved. I think I took more pictures of dogs than of any nature pictures on the trip. Oh well, I really miss my Opal. Every time the guy on my trip would jump over the fence, I could only think about one thing: tetanus, tetanus, tetanus.

We finally got to a harder part of the trail. There were lots of rocks and mud and you really had to watch where you were stepping. In front of me was Catherine and one of our tour guides. His English was pretty good, but he kept having to ask our CIEE rep what certain words meant. He started telling us some story about religion.. and the color white. Me the jokester says, "The KKK?" Clearly a joke. The guy goes, "No, not the KKK!" He kept saying different words and finally he said "Hitaly." A mixture of Hitler and Italy if you didn't catch that one. "Ooooooh, the Pope!" 2 seconds later, I hear the word "otter" come out of his mouth. Seriously, what story includes the Pope and an otter? I turn around to look at the guys behind me. We are all giving each other the, "what the fuck???" face when all of a sudden, I stop looking down, my ankle rolls because of a rock, and I fall down right into this plant that is practically a cactus. FELT WONDERFUL! And wow was this a fall. You know when you fall it feels like you're falling for a good minute? This was like a fall, and then another fall. The worst part is, is that I was wearing gloves so the thorns were still on my glove. This guy on my trip reached out to help me up and I grabbed his hand with the thorn hand. Ughhh, I felt so bad, but he was okay. My hand on another note..... I have 20 prickly black things in my hand. When I got home Pepi went to town with her needle trying to get them out. She didn't do that great of a job so I will be sneaking down tonight for her needle, but she was very motherly. She made sure I had the blanket on my lap to keep warm, grabbed my hand, and went to it. Screaming in agony is universal I guess, but nothing was stopping her. My head was definitely on her shoulder at some point. Today, the palm of my right hand looks like its been through a war or that I have some strange red rash on it. Looks great.

But back to this hike. After I fell, oh and Catherine fell, we continued on  our way. We saw some crazy animals, by the way. We saw donkeys that were insanely big. The face was scary big, and looked fake. Then, we came to these huge bulls. They were so big, that they legitimately could have been dinosaurs. I'm  not exagerating. My camera wasn't really capturing their size too well so I don't have any good pictures, but believe me, monsters were roaming the land of Huelva. Then we came across a unicorn! Okay, fine, not a unicorn but this beautiful white horse in the middle of nowhere. It was a unicorn in my book.

After the dogs, donkeys, dinosaurs, and unicorns, we got to pick our own orange from an orange tree. Everyone was trying to take pictures of themselves jumping in the air. I had a little success thanks to my friends. Unfortunately no one had a napkin so we all had really sticky fingers. I licked one of mine, BIG mistake. Tasted like poison. Mmmm yum.

After leaving the last town we we were on to the last part of a hike. We're standing in this little courtyard, we look up, and there's this big white sculpture thing on the mountain. Great, we were hiking directly up a mountain. I should've peed, I should've had some coffee, but no, I'm not that smart. So we started the hike and everyone's breathing became very heavy very quickly. I thought I was at track practice, sophomore year, all over again. You know when it hurts so bad, your heart is racing so quickly, your breathing is heavy, and you think you can't go on? That was me... and everyone else. Somehow we made it to the top. My thighs and ass were burning from that work out. I can't wait for tomorrow, day 2 sore is always worse than day 1 for me. We took some lame pictures at the top and then got back on the bus and passed out. We hiked for 6 hours total. It was a really, really long day.

This morning Marissa and I both woke up (after the 20 alarms) and were miserable. We both were having weird dreams. Today was our first day at University de Pablo Olavide aka UPO. We took the metro there and it was much shorter of a ride than we expected. We all had to take a placement test for Spanish. In my book, this was stupid. We already took a placement test that took 3 hours, we had a Spanish interview on top of that so we would be placed into the right Spanish class. Then we had our Intensive Session where after the first day you could move up a level if you choose. Then we completed the class and had tests. Why do we need yet another placement exam?? The test wasn't too bad, but of course I screwed up the end. There were 2 open ended questions. The last question said something about 'What would you do if you came home and someone had broken into your house?" The way it was worded, I only knew the word "house." Great, just great. At this point I had to guess so genius me guessed that it was saying something about our house here in Sevilla. So I answered a question about a break-in with "Pepi serves a lot of soup. The house has many floors. It is very cold." These people are going to laugh their asses off when they see my answer. Oh well, it doesn't matter in the end. A lot of people need to move up because they need the credits. For me, whatever Spanish class I take will count for an Arts or Humanities credit. At least I'll give someone a chuckle from my response...

11:00, and we are starving like usual. We had to stop for some montaditos (cute little sandwiches.) But when lunch time came, I was struggling. Nap time is going to be unbelievable right now.

The weather is supposed to be getting much nicer this week, and we have started planning our travel plans. It's amazing having a conversation like this,"Well, let's just go to Paris this week and to Prague next weekend." I really feel so lucky to be here. Europe for 5 months is going to fly by, but I have never been so excited before in my entire life. This place really does feel like home, and I don't know how I'm ever going to leave here. Don't worry, my non refundable ticket will be used on May 21st for sure, but it's going to be hard dragging me to the airport. Well, I'm warm in my bed and Marissa's snoring is making me jealous so I must close my eyes for a bit. Hasta manana!

I also added pictures to all of the other entries so please scroll all the way to the bottom to see them!

Sevilla: Where "gay" means "gay"

I've reached that time where I need to write about the night life of Sevilla. Do I leave it out and keep this entry safe for children's eyes or do I write it like the real Sara Mintzer would share a story? I say, I share it. With that being said....


DISCLAIMER: this post includes topics such as making out, Spanish men, and a reference to hickeys. If you are a grandparent or someone who wants to remain thinking im an innocent child, don’t read on. Thanks.


Yesteday was our last class of our Intensive Session, and I thought I would share some fun words and phrases I learned in class the past 2 weeks.


enstinido--constipated
mentira cochina--bullshit
estar de mala leche--to be in a bad mood (you're bad milk)
la matricula--tuition / license plate   ????
echar un rapidillo--to have a quickey
solter y entera--single and ready to mingle
pasta--money
bucks--turkey
mi puta idea-- i have no fucking idea
morrearse-- to make out
camello--drug dealer
mentiroso!--liar!
tocar el pito-- to honk your horn / men's genitals   ???

We had the best teacher, the best class, and some pretty funny moments. Easiest 3 credits of my life.

You know how I was saying that -ito means little. Well I was thinking about the word un poquito.... it really is un poco, which means little but when we say un poqutio are we saying little-little? Like minuscule? So confused.

I bought sneakers yesterday. Buying anything here is an interesting experience. You know how in America every young woman who works in a clothing store is such a little bitch? Well same here, but the Spanish version. That means it's 20 times worse. Young woman + bitch + hates American girls = not a fun experience. The shoe I wanted happened to have been a 37 ( my European size) and the girl told me she didn't have any others. When she realized the sample shoe was my actual size she didn't look too happy because she then had to search for the other one. Ay dios mio! Making someone do work at work? How horrible of me. So I sat down waiting for my shoe to come. It never did and the girl walked past us 4 times. I really thought she just gave up on my search and didn't tell me. Well no, she was waiting for me. She didn't realize that I knew that I was going to buy them. Huh?? I guess here in Spain you only try on one shoe and call it a day. Weird. So finally she hands me the other shoe. It was a very odd situation. If I was in a cartoon, there would have been a large question mark over my head and Marissa's. No one wants to help you here! Oh and no one smiles or says hello so when someone does smile or say hello it's like a rare treat. With my shoes, of course there are no half sizes so it was between my toe touching the front a little or stuffing 4 socks in my shoe. I went with the suffering toe, as if my poor toes haven't suffered enough. For 15 Euro, I'll take it. I'm absolutely getting another in grown toenail and will be having to see a podiatrist here. Can't wait for that day to come. But anyway, I came home and Pepi insisted on me showing her my new sneakers. Oh does this woman crack me up. She thinks everything is "bonita"... literally everything. My crappy rinky dink phone from 1999 that I have here was charging in the living room. She went crazy over how bonita it was. It was bright blue, that's all. Her reaction is so precious. So with my shoes, mid sentence I took them out of the box. She stopped whatever crapola she was saying to Marissa, snapped her head around, changed her tone of voice, and went into her "es bonitaaa" voice. Black and pink sneakers. She thought they were so beautiful. HA. I wish I could put some kind of voice over thing onto this blog because her tone of voice is so cute. Es bonitaaa, muy buenoooo, si, si, siiiii. Getting it? I love her.

For lunch she said she was making a fillet. Fillet means fillet. FILLET OF WHAT PEPI?? She always says filet, but never specifies what kind of meat/fish we are eating. Carne means meat, and literally that. All meat = carne. They never specify. So to me, I have no friggin clue what I'm eating until it's in my mouth and when I figure it out for myself. The other day we had some fried long thing. Yep, that's the only way to describe it. Fried, long, thing. When I cut into it I saw some mystery meat was wrapped in ham. Okay, ham, i got it. Pepi's daughter came over for lunch so I asked her what was in it.... "carne" she says. Oy vay.. the mystery meat kills me. But back to this filet.... it wound up being pork. It tasted so damn good and it had to have been cooked in butter. Pepi claims its oil, Pepi is also a liar. Totally butter. She acts like Miss Healthy, but gives us everything fried in oil including the plate of cauliflower I had for lunch today.

Before I talk about lunch today I need to talk about last night's dinner. When Pepi "goes out" for the night she leaves us dinner. Both times, it's been the same thing. It was a ham and cheese sandwich on white bread with a shit tone of butter on each piece of bread on the outside. It looked like she wanted us to grill it.... but where? We were confused. Toasters here kinda look like little panini makers so we thought maybe the toaster? We opened up the toaster and there were so many crumbs from god knows what so for the second time we opted to eating the ham, cheese, and butter sandwich as is. We managed to scrape off some butter, but we had to reverse the bread otherwise we were going to have butterfingers and who really wants that?  Next time Pepi says she's going out, so am I. I can't take another jamon y queso butter sandwich. No sir.

But at lunch today, she made a chicken and potato stew thing. She also brought out the smoked salmon that she bought for me. So I ate a lot of it, and Marissa had some too. She liked it! I was so happy for her. Now she truly is an honorary Jew in my book. But after this stew came a plate full of cauliflower. I'm talking about an entire tree was on my plate. She fried it of course. I mean it tasted great, but one can eat only so  much cauliflower. I eat cauliflower maybe twice a year, and here I had about 5 years worth in one sitting. Who really eats cauliflower? The only time I eat is when it's  around dip at a party and the celery is all gone or when my mother makes it taste so good it's like candy. But, that's a special treat for us...

At this point. I usually eat everything on my plate, but I had to leave one tree over. I just couldn't do it.  I am so stuffed and Pepi tells me I need to eat the rest of the salmon. I literally felt like a human garbage. Uh, okay Pepi. She said salmon doesn't taste good after you've opened it once. Well Pepi, maybe it's because you don't believe in cellophane. Everything isn't wrapped. Half of a lemon, half of a kiwi, half of a tomato... nothing wrapped, nothing refrigerated. EW! This is what they do here! Everyone talks about their meals every day in class, and everyone is in the same boat. Milk can last like 4 months here and be left out until opened. Still they leave it out overnight. Miguel told us it has something to do with the milk makers boiling the milk to a certain temperature. Yes, I said milk makers. I can't think of the word. Dairy people? Dairians? Farmers? I don't know... but it really freaks me out. So with not wrapping the salmon, yeah Pepi, no wonder why it would taste like shit. So I ate all of the salmon and then took a siesta. That meal took it out of me.

When Pepi says she's going out, I imagine running into her in a bar. Do you think she gets wild? Do you think she wears sexy clothing and flirts with younger men? Marissa and I have made up a fake life for her. We think that when she goes out late and gets late night calls that she's seeing her lover. We really hope so though. She's never been married. We're hoping she's gotten laid at least once in the past 25 years. Whenever she's in a really good mood, we say it's because she got some last night.

So here comes the good stuff: We went out last night to a club called Boss. Before that we went around to some of the local bars around the club. We walked into one, my friend Kelly takes a shot of whiskey, and we move on. Next bar, all Americans. The other CIEE groups finally have arrived so Americans are everywhere. We headed over to Boss and checked our coats for 2 friggin Euros. RIP OFF, but it was better than holding it all night. I ran into a Penn Stater that I am not a fan of. He had no idea who I was. Men and women are really so different. We walked around checking out some hot men and found our friends to be sitting at a table with some Spanish guys. If Down by the Banks and Spin the Bottle had a baby, this would be the game. Everyone had their hands out, singing some Spanish song, slapping hands, and when the song stops you have to pick someone to kiss. AWKWARD. I had to walk away from this group because there were a lot of creepers sitting around. I would rather have kissed one of my girlfriends than some of those people sitting in that circle. So we walked away, danced, sang, drank, and were having a great time. Some people on my trip were having a fantastic time though. Everyone was going at it on the couches. I couldn't believe my eyes. Everyone was paired up and hard core hooking up with their new Spanish man. I was hysterically laughing. Maybe I'm picky, but you couldn't have paid me to make out with those guys.

 Then I look at the dance floor and this guy on my trip is going at it with his Intercambio! OH MY GOD. Intercambio love!! It's rare, but it happens. These two are literally head over heels for each other. Very sensual dancers, I died inside a little. So we are walking around, scoping out the place and we find ourselves back to the group of spin the bottle lovers. Some new guys were standing there. When you meet someone new here or say hi, you give a kiss on the left cheek and a kiss on the right. Well, this one crazy man doesn't kiss me on the cheek, but takes a juicy bite out of my neck. Did this stranger just give me a  hickey? Oooooooooh I would've been mad. So we walked on because I almost vomited on him I was so disgusted. I look behind me and there are a bunch of middle aged women dancing in a circle around there purses. I thought I was in a Dane Cook skit. They literally all put their purses in the middle of the floor and danced around them. This club had an older crowd and a younger crowd. There was some party going on upstairs so Jordyn and I stepped over some velvet rope and wanted to see what was going on. A man comes up to us and says 'Get. Out.'  He sounded a bit German, by the way. Wow, private party. Sorryyyyyy sir. Marissa and Kelly got yelled at for standing on an elevated surface. I guess this place isn't Penn State. Oh well.

We went to talk to some of our Spanish friends and one of them looks at my necklace and starts telling me that my necklace looks like "Nigga bling." Woah. Jordyn and I tell him that he can't say that. He said it's acceptable in Spain to say that. And when you say nigga... it's pronounced Nee-gah. Thanks buddy, I'm so glad you think my nice, expensive necklace looks like jewelry that rappers wear. Nice. But we did get a kick out of the word nee-gah.

As we were leaving of course I lost the ticket to the coat check. After a lot of arguing with the people who have way too much power over coats, and help from a DiscoverSevilla guy, I was able to go in the back and look for my jacket. We were too tired to go to another club at this point so we headed for a late night snack. We wanted to be taken to a place in Nervion because that's where we live and we didn't want to have to take another taxi home. The only place in Nervion is called "Ooh La La" but should be called "Ooh la Gross." Jordyn kept saying to the cab driver "No me gusta Ooh La La, no me gusta Ooh La La." We ended up there in the end because it was our only option. God help me on this one though.... Why when I see the meat and cheese just sitting out knowing its been there for hours, why would I get a sandwich? Well because I have no sweet tooth and I choose salty over some sweet pastry. I went to Culinary School, I'm a Hospitality Management student, I am ServSafe certified, I take nutrition classes and labs, I have learned about food borne illness for 7 years, why would I get a sandwich? I regretted it the minute I got it. I can't even think about it because I will vomit. That cured meat was so cured that when the salt hit my throat it actually hurt. After one bite, and many laughs, I was done. Should've gotten the big chocolate donut like the other 2 crack heads I was with. But looking around the room, people were happily eating there sandwiches. Uh, uh, no way. Ooh la gross.

Marissa and I ran home after that. It was extremely windy last night. There's never any wind here, but last night could have been mistaken for Chicago. Me, in my wedges, started running and got into a comfortable groove. Adrenaline was pushing me home. Marissa in her little CVS bendable shoes practically looks barefoot. Two idiots running down the street in black stockings and skirts. We looked fantastic, not. We laughed the whole way home with the wind in our hair, our toes breaking off, and have completely lost the feeling of our fingers. I've never been so happy to see our front door. We ran up to see Snoop Dawg :)

It was freezing last night and today in the house. In my sleep, I turned Snoop Dawg on. Oh well, sometimes you just have to be rebellious. Pepe le Pew would kill us if she knew he was on as much as he is.

At dinner tonight, we were watching some whack tv show and out of nowhere Pepi says "Gay"and points to the guy on the television. No way did she actually mean gay. A lot of words here sound like English words but are not... they're called 'false friends.' So I say, "Gay?" and she says, "Gay." And I say, "Gay????" and she says, "Gay!" So I say "Gay." and she says, "Gayyy." And I look at the screen and a picture of a book comes on the tv and it says something about a king. In Spanish, king is rey. So I say, "Rey!?" and she says, "GAY!" So in the end, the guy on tv really was gay. I guess gay means gay. She actually said to us, in Spanish of course, "You don't know what gay means!?" Haaaaaaaa we laughed our asses off after that one. Always an interesting time with Pepi. She's becoming famous within our group of friends. I kind of want to bring her into class for Show and Tell.

Marissa hung out with Pepe today while I was napping. Supposedly we are using too much energy and that means she can't have a hot shower. Hold the phone. Snoop Dawg's death or Pepi having a warm shower? Now I feel bad. But not really. GET SOME DAMN CARPET WOMAN, LOWER THE CEILINGS, CLOSE THE WINDOWS, GET CENTRAL HEATING, and then maybe you can have a hot shower. I don't believe her. I bet it's the washing machine going every, single day. She can never take Snoop Dawg away from us.

I don't know how I forgot to mention this... We came home the other day and found random thongs and shirts laying in the foyer. We walk up 3 steps.... thong... 3 more steps... thong..... 6 more... sock. What was going on here? If we followed the trail of clothes would we win a prize!? Was this purposely done? Was she drying stuff on the third floor and it magically started raining thongs and socks? Another mystery of this house.

It's always eventful. Pepi ran out of her blanco cheese today. We survived. We don't know how. I bet there's a huge cheese wheel in the fridge tomorrow.

By the way, she hard boiled eggs. I think she realizes a piece of toast won't be enough for breakfast tomorrow because we are going on a hike. The stubborn bird gave in. And I win. Eggs for breakfast!?

I. think. so.

:-)

Sevilla: Where nine means dinner time....

Another day, another story. Sometimes when I think about this blog I get nervous as if I have nothing to write... as if nothing funny happens here. Well I was wrong.

First off, I FIXED THE SHOWER! Greatest day of my life. So I'm standing there, freezing, naked, miserable, the usual and decided to be proactive. I don't like how the shower is so why would I not make a solid attempt to  fix it? So I'm in the shower with not too many tools at my disposable. I should have thought of this before I got in the shower, but I'm not that smart. I have about 5 bobby pins and a hair tie nearby. I recruited the hair tie. I took this long snake of a shower head thing, folded it in half and wrapped my hair tie around 3 times, all at the same time trying to have the hot water hit my body. I slid the hair tie all the way to the top, tucked something here, tucked something there and BAM, I fixed the shower. I can't even tell you (and as I write "you" I say ustedes in my head, great.) how happy I was from that MacGyver moment. It still took me a few minutes just to get my entire head wet because the "trinkle, trinkle" water doesn't really do much, but it was about 100 times better. Marissa has about 8 times as much hair as I do. Good luck to her.

On to food: For lunch the other day Pepi had her crackers and cream cheese and jam out like usual. I've eaten that jam before. It doesn't taste wonderful, but I need a little variety so I grab the jam every now and then from the fridge instead of the I Can't Believe it's Not Butter Spanish version crap. A long time ago, me and the Pepster agreed that we both hate raspberries. Hallelujah, someone who doesn't like raspberries besides myself. But today, we got in a little tiff about jam. She tells me that strawberry jam, what she thought she was eating, is called "fresa" and that raspberry is "frambuesa." Fresa, frambuesa + Pepi's accent... sound the same to me. Say it a few times out loud. So I'm nodding my head along until I realize the jam says "frambuesa" and there's a picture of a raspberry on the damn bottle! I keep pointing and saying "Frambuesa! Frambuesa!" and stubborn Pepi keeps saying "No, no, no" while shaking her head. She said that it's strawberry. So I'm thinking okay, maybe she had a big strawberry jar and she put some in the empty raspberry jar giving her and her wise years the benefit of the doubt. Nope. I take the jar, look inside and there are literally chunks of raspberry in the jar! I knew that shit tasted weird. The Mystery of the Jam Jar has now been solved. In Pepi's mind, its strawberry. But I know the real truth. God, old people really are stubborn.

School: Our wonderful program wants us to speak as much Spanish as possible so they have an Intercambio Program. That means that each American student gets paired with a Spanish student, they meet at least once a week over coffee or drinks or wherever and you speak 30 minutes in Spanish, 30 in English. My Intercambio's name is Ezequiel Munoz. When I met him he said to me, "Ah! Sara Elizabeth!" He thought Elizabeth was my first surname because my full name pops up on my email. Eh-wrong. But it was cute hearing someone call me that just like my Dad does. We got drinks, ate potato chips and helped each other with our languages. It was actually really fun. He is a 26 year old chemical engineer who doesn't live in Sevilla so I'm not sure how often I will see him, but I'm really happy that his English is pretty decent. When we talk, we talk in super slow motion. If he's talking, my face looks a little mangled face. That is the face of anyone trying to understand another language. I'm listening, I'm thinking, I'm understand. It's a pretty great face. The same goes for him. I would randomly stop talking and burst out into laughter because he kind of reminds me of Mr. Bean sometimes. There's an image.

On another note, I met a guy named Alex (Alejandro) at a bar the other night with my friends. He studied English in England for a semester, and he said if he doesn't practice English then he will lose everything he has learned. Completely understandable. So we met for coffee yesterday. What a cute little guy. Again, same thing as my intercambio. We just talked, slowly, and wrote down words for each other. It's easier to talk to them versus Pepi because Pepi is a chatter box. With people my own age I can ask them to repeat sentences slowly, say them myself, and again and again and really learn the language.

CIEE set up an intercambio party at a bar last night. At first, Ezequiel wasn't able to go, but he got out of work early, emailed me, and said he would be there. We all met up outside of this castle looking thing right by the river. Ezequiel was one of the first to show up. As the Spaniards kept showing up they just kept getting older and older. Not old, but not 21. It wasn't what I pictured in my mind at all, but they all were very nice people. I immediately introduced Ezequiel to Marissa. You know how in America we say "Oh Marissa, I've heard such nice things about you!" Well here in Spain, it doesn't translate the same way. Ezequiel looks at Marissa and says, "Oh Marissa! You eat a lot of cheese!" How fantastic is that! She died of laughter as did I when she told me that later on.

I met with Alejandro right before the party so I had my dictionary, little notebook that I take everywhere full of Spanish phrases and what not, and lots of pens with me. I looked like Mary Poppins. My purse last night had the entire world shoved into it. I'm surprised there wasn't a taxi in my purse to take me home at the end of the night. As soon as I took out my dictionary at the party Ezequiel said, "Wow, you really came prepared!" I couldn't tell him I was hanging out with Alejandro right before the intercambio shindig. I felt like I was cheating on him! I said I thought it was useful. Well it was. I look over to my right and Marissa is talking to one of the sexiest men I have ever seen in my entire life and they are playing some weird game with another guy that requires pen and paper. I offer up my dictionary as a hard surface. He smiled, said gracias, and I melted. Ezequiel had to leave and Riss and I were waiting for the other girls so we played this weird ice breaker that helps people get to know each other in a fun way. He works for a company that works with students here by the way, he's not just some random creep luring us in with his charm, good looks, and funny games.

We wound up going out after for tapas and drinks with our friends and some of the people from the intercambio get-together. On Wednesdays at this one place here, everything is 1 Euro. Beer, tinto, tapas all for 1 Euro. Luis (sexy guy) said food is his thing so I let him order. Marissa and Jordyn both had a chocolate sandwich. Yep, chocolate. I honestly couldn't tell you what I had. Oh yea, some kind of steak with fried onions thing and yea... can't really tell you what else. The tapas they serve are only little sandwiches called "montaditos." Sandwiches... tapas.... uh my calling in life? I think so. It's definitely a sign that I live in the one country that is famous for little sandwiches, little appetizers, and a lot of different flavors and taste. More to be written on that...

As we're leaving the Cervezeria ("beer-a-ria") I see something very strange. Image: Small bar, tiny little room to stand or sit to eat. It's no bigger then 2 dorm rooms put together. In the middle of all of this madness a man is shining someones shoes!! Que??? What??? Yep, some guy on his hands and knees shining some other guys shoes. This place is fantastic. Dogs in cafes, shoe shining at midnight in bars... where else, but Spain. At this point we're tired and have essays to write so we had to make it an early night. Part of our assignment was to give out 3 surveys. I have 2 intercambios and a senora.. bam, done, easy. Carolina on the other hand didn't have it so easy. So what does she do? Gives them to the drunk guys sitting down outside of the bar to fill out. Cracks me up! By the way, when I gave it to Ezequiel, he kept saying, "I'm trying to answer these in an easy way. These are hard for American girl." I couldn't really understand what he meant until it finally clicked with him. He thought he was doing my homework for me. What a nice guy! But really, how funny.

As we are getting ready to leave, our intercambio friend from the party shows us how he is a programmer and makes Apps for the iPhone. What did he invent? This game called Sex Party.Of course. It's like the digital version of spin the bottle with dirtier things to do than kissing. You get the hint. Weird, yes, kind of genius... that too.The night gets more interesting by the minute. We say goodbye to our new friends, run into some of our other friends, say goodnight and get in the cab. We all think the funny shit is over with, but no. There has to be more. I look down at my nice, new black leggings and what is on my knee cap? This big huge white, load of crap. I was wearing boots that cover my knees so what went on here? Did a bird fly into my boot, take a big dump on my knee,  and fly out? Who knows, but the taxi driver was hysterically laughing at this point and so were all of us. I could go in a completely different comical direction at this point, but I'll leave it to your imagination and keep it G rated.

I wound up waking up at 7:30 this morning to write my essay. Gosh that was brutal. In my squeaky, squeaky bed, I grabbed my surveys, and my laptop and wrote a pretty good essay if I do say so myself using only the light from my computer to function as a human. As I'm interpreting the answers and trying not to move, I'm laughing inside. Alejandro and Ezequiel gave pretty much the same answers. Pepi's answers: No, si, mal, si, no. No, yes, bad, yes, no. Thanks Pepi, thanks for really telling me how you feel, not. She also was adamant on not writing it herself. She literally forced me to write her answers. The whole situation was kind of weird. The questions were about the changes being made to the city by the mayor. It's becoming more of a modern city, and there are a lot of mixed opinions on the subject. She kept getting louder and louder with her answers. I'm never asking the old bird again to fill out a survey. Clearly she doesn't like the mayor....

Anyway, its early and the bed is killing me. I literally can't move, it's that loud. I wake Marissa up every time I move a leg. Us Mintzer's, we have a gene called the tuck gene. We always have to have the blanket tucked under at the foot of the bed. Nope, can't do that here, that requires way too many movements. Pepi did buy us new comforters though. So now we have about 5 blankets AND a comforter. I slept like a dream last night. My comforter is kind of manly and Marissa's is all brown. Last night before going to bed she said, "Ew, why do you have the man blanket?" And I looked at her and said, "Why do you have the shit-colored blanket?!" As if hers is 20 times more beautiful than  mine. We laughed for a while. The two of us are just little giggle monsters at night. At Penn State... and here.... always giggling before we go to bed. In the morning though, wow are we grumpy. Full sentences don't come out of our mouths until we are asking if the other unplugged the toaster or figuring out who is getting the key out.

We finally have a clue as to how we walk to el centro. Tomorrow is also our last day of our intensive course at the student center. Once we find out what time our classes are we might not be having lunch anymore at home. Ugh, a bocadillo everyday? I can't have a bread sandwich everyday. No way. By the way, we had some little baby ham and cheese sandwich tonight after our pasta. Strange, I know. Pepi puts "-ito" onto the end of every word meaning little. Her grandson is a chicotito, a sandwich is a montadito. Her chicotito likes montaditos. You put food in the garbagito and eat at the tableito and wear slipperitos and play outsidito and run in the streetito and wash your bodyito and go to sleepito. Clearly an exaggeration, but not really. Every friggin word is "ito!!" It's extremely hard to see the word in your head when -ito is ruining every word for you.

Sometimes we take a "siesta" or nap a little too seriously. We can nap for 3 hours sometimes. Today, I woke up at 8:45, dinner is at 9. Dinner honestly feels like a midnight snack at that point. We eat breakfast at 9 in the morning, lunch at 2:30. Today, Pepi wanted to eat at 4. I almost ate off my left arm today in class. I had to give in and eat a little sandwich during our coffee break. The banana and trail mix in my bag wasn't doing it for me. But Marissa on the other hand hadn't eaten a thing since toast this morning. She immediately ran upstairs for her snacks. We literally rush home for our 2:30 lunch and she wants to eat at 4. Oh lordy, lord, lord.

Random thought: Marissa just reminded me about the flamenco dancers we saw the first week here. The singer guy could actually be replaced by the head Indian chief of the Navajo tribe. The image of flamenco dancers dancing around a fire with sticks singing practically in the same tone of voice as the Native Americnas really is great. That was definitely an unforgettable night.

I haven't studied, I've blogged. It's getting addicting. I'm leaving. Goodnight friends.

Sevilla: Where oranges can kill you and everything is magical...

So here we have orange trees lining every street. We live in a fairytale land; it's that beautiful. But you have to watch out for these dangerous orange trees. First of all, they look delicious, but they are not. Secondly, one can fall on your head and knock you out. They're that big!! Well, that happened to Marissa and Jordyn the other day. An orange fell right in front of their faces and splattered on the ground. This thing was practically a medicine ball. I could just see it now. I'm in a hospital in Sevilla, sitting besides Marissa's bed. She has orange juice all over her and a wrapped up head with pounds (haha kilos) of gauze. Yep, that's right, knocked out by an orange. The conversation to her mother would go like this, "Mrs. Perrone, Marissa is okay. But she's in the hospital.... no, not hit by a train in el centro....no, not kicked by a rebel "horse and buggy" horse.. no, not food poisoning from the cheese, milk, yogurt, and meat left out overnight.... but an orange got her. Yep, right to the cabeza." Ha, i just cracked myself up. But really, the image is fantastic. Gotta watch out for those suckers.

Today I was pretty wiped out from Spanish class. 3 hours, in a small classroom, where there is no place to hide, text, do Sudoku, or play Words with Friends on my iPhone. Real class. Old school. Ugh. Some days are worse than others, but today I got picked on a lot. Every day I get picked on a lot, but today I decided to be a little chatty with my friend sitting next to me and with Miguel, our teacher. I like asking a lot of questions like, "Is it normal for my senora to do this... or that... or cheese.... or eggs..." Something along those lines. I use examples from my house to make light of the class and give everyone a little chuckle. Everyone needs a good laugh. On the first day of class he put me on the spot, and I got so red in the face. Brought me back to 3rd grade, and 4th grade, and okay fine let's be real, I'm still the girl who gets red when I get embarrassed. But you would think he would move on after he saw how red I got! Nope. He kept pushing on and asking more questions in stupid Spanish. Now I'm more comfortable and try to ask more questions so it seems that I'm more involved and then maybe he'll call on someone else. There is a system to my madness. It's like asking to go to the bathroom right before it's your turn to answer the next question except I've matured in my ways of bullshitting. I'm still the same student that I was when I was a kid staring at the clock, aching for class to be over. Now we get a coffee break in Spain. Saweeet!! Everyone has a little more pep in their step (or seat) when we come back for the last hour. Damn that coffee is good unlike the Nestle-instant-shit-mix-with-water-and-stick-it-in-the-microwave-crap that we have in our house. 

Moving on, so I went home and after all of that damn Spanish I'm exhausted! But I have to be lively for the lovely Pepi. Today I wasn't talking much. I just didn't want to. I know that's horrible for me to say, and I have to practice as much as possible, but I'm just so tired! And then the meal moves on, and she realizes that I haven't spoken in about 5 minutes. In Pepi Land, that's a long time. So I hear her say "Sara" in her fancy accent, I snap my head around, and she just goes right into directions on how to make the lasagna that she just made for us. Here's the image: Open face lasagna. Like an open faced turkey sandwich... I call this open-faced lasagna. Absolutely delicious, might I add, with this burnt cheese on top. Yes Mom, you would have loved the burnt crispy cheese on top. It had Barbara Mintzer written all over it. So she continues to go on and on about how to make this concoction. Me, understanding every 6th word and nodding my head saying "si, si" like usual found it interesting. I was completely shot down when I asked if I could cook with her one day. Guess I'll be taking the Spanish cooking lessons through our program! But then we continued on about food. Again, our language, the language of Pepi and Sara. She also cooked us eggplant today for our second course. I told her about my favorite sandwich of all time, The Sandy Koufax (Champs Bar and Grill, State College, PA 16803  call for reservations!) and how it consists of grilled eggplant and goat cheese. Here comes the voice, the voice of eggs in the morning..."Berenjena y queso?!? Con pan??? Aka, eggplant and cheese... with bread!? What are you crazy?  Oh Pepi, how you crack me up. Continuing on, the conversation flowed from there. We talked about how our friend was served "Chirp chirp!" in her lunch. Yes, that's right, her host family said that "chirp, chirp" was in her food. We asked Pepi what that possibly could be. She had no clue either. Duck? Chicken? Turkey? Pigeon from the terrace? Green guy running man's voice chopped up into little pieces!? Oh the possibilities...

Every time I say Pepi I think of Pepe Le Pew that skunk who was always in love with that lady skunk. Her little white stripe in her grey hair goes well with her name.

By the way, we think Pepi farted at lunch today. Enough said.

We went for a little stroll today. Marissa bought a 5 dollar hair straightener, and then we headed to El Cortes Ingles. It's a BIG department store with everything including a supermarket. We walked around the aisles looking at weird snacks, hotdogs stuffed in jars (the scariest aisle of all time,) ham flavored pringles, you know, the usual things you find in a grocery store. But really, it looked just like an American supermarket. Wine was cheap as hell! I couldn't believe my eyes. We were told that we are not allowed to bring any alcohol in the house, and we also heard that the senora's snoop like crazy. Pepi definitely does. Last night I broke a glass and put it in our bathroom garbage. I was going to tell her at lunch, but when I came home she already knew what I was going to say. She said she saw it upstairs. Hmm... didn't make our beds, didn't clean our bathroom, didn't do our laundry.. but just took a stroll into our room/bathroom. Interesting, very interesting. So we were a little nervous about buying some wine and keeping it in our room. At the moment we are still working on that one....

Marissa went into the shower and I started to smell something burning. Oh no Snoop Dawg don't die now! We need you still! We definitely wouldn't survive without our pet dog, and heater, Snoop Dawg. The nights are cold and lonely. Es necessario!! But no, it wasn't Snoop Dawg. My next thought, Marissa's crappy ass straightener burning a hole into the desk. Nope, wasn't that. Could it be my broken computer battery starting trouble with me? Nope. Still haven't figured it out, but there's a lot of weird smells around here. Nothing smells of smoke in this house, but sometimes after a shower my hair reminds me of cigarettes. Maybe it's that delicious tap we drink...

Which leads me to the shower. What a scary place. It should be a place of harmony, but here in Europe showers suck unless you're staying in a fancy hotel like the one we stayed in. The shower head was one of those crazy ones directly above your head with insane water pressure and a lifetime supply of hot water. There was no door by the way to the shower. Still haven't figured that one out yet. But our shower has no place to put the shower head up so we have to told it in our hand. The bathroom floor is actually specially made for us. It's made of ice from the Arctic. It's actually brought in just for spoiled American students to help them get comfortable in their new, weird, homestay. So after getting naked, in the freezing bathroom, standing on the freezing floor, you have to step into the freezing shower. We are lucky, we have hot water... for about 7 minutes. I then make sure its hot, but no, its scalding. So now every hair on my body is standing straight up because my entire body is freezing, and is now in shock due to the burning water on my feet. At this point, I have no toes, by the way. Okay, so the water is just right. Hmm... shower handle in right hand, big vitamin jar full of soap in the left. Vitamin jar you ask? Because they don't have body wash here so we were told to bring a lot. I didn't have any small bottles so I sacrificed some whack, fake vitamin stuff in the cabinet and put my soap in it. So now I have a situation... I don't have a third hand. So I pour some soap onto my shoulder and lather and repeat with one hand. It's hard. Very hard. Now, face time. Open the soap, put it into the same hand as the shower head (takes skill) and pour it into the other hand. Problem: getting the soap bottle onto the rim of the tub. Somehow I manage and wash my face with one hand. Uhhhhh, that's complicated. Maybe for all of you men out there it's a piece of cake. To us women, left hand takes off left eye make up, right hand takes off right eye. Oh the struggles in my life! Don't even get me started on how shampooing my hair went or shaving my legs. I'll spare you the details. The only thing at this point motivating me to move faster is that I have Snoop Dawg waiting besides my bed, ready to keep me warm. Ha, that was sentence I never thought I'd say. So to all you Americans out there, enjoy your showers. I miss mine.  When you're standing there thinking about all the things you have to do today or your grocery list or how nice it feels when the hot water hits your back or about last night's rager or how the crazy the dream you had last night evolved in your subconscious or you're just too lazy to get out, realize YOU'RE A LUCKY BASTARD! 

Marissa and I are thinking about joining the gym, just for the sake of showers. No way can any shower be worse than ours. Maybe a bucket of water being thrown at us, or using the water dripping from the houses everyday or getting hosed down by the workers as they power wash the streets . I guess that could be worse. It could always be worse. But with all of these strange situations I find myself in, I just love everyday. Even if nothing too exciting happens, I get to walk around the most beautiful city, look at the people, absorb the culture, and be happy. I have nothing but pure joy and happiness in my life. So even with horrible showers, and long, exhausting days, I'm in Sevilla, where oranges can kill you and everything is magical. It truly is. Until next time, adios!

Sevilla: Where cheese has no cholesterol...

Everyone knows that food is my passion in life, and I knew that coming to Europe would be very satisfying to my palate, but I never would have thought of some of the food combinations that Spaniards eat here all of the time. Potatoes, peas, and calamari....Rice and tomato sauce with an egg over easy with toast... etc. Pepi has made us some delicious meals and some interesting conversation. One of my most memorable meals was at dinner the other night when I was feeling really confident and happy because I had spoken Spanish really well at dinner (which is rare.) Marissa is way better at Spanish, and Pepi realized that quickly. Sometimes Pepi only looks at her when she speaks, and I sit and bob my head up and down and say, "Si, si" as if I'm really contributing to the conversation. But anyway, I had this great conversation and was feeling confident enough to suggest something in the food department. At our orientation, our leaders told us to tell our senora's what we do and do not like to eat. They said we should be straight forward from the beginning. Besides raspberries, I'm pretty open minded. I'm also living with someone who just left vegetarianism back in America. I'm so proud of her. Watching her eat 2.... not 1... but 2 hotdogs stuffed with cheese might have been one of the greatest moments ever to witness. She kept her cool. I would glance over at the tv and mumble, "You doing okay?" making sure Pepi didn't see the fear that I had on my face or the terror in Marissa's eyes. We've both been pretty open minded and trusting of Pepi's taste.

ANYWAY... on to the story.... so after dinner we are helping put everything away, and I thought I would ask Pepi about breakfast. Here, she sleeps in so we make breakfast on our own, which is perfect because 8 AM for Marissa and I is ROUGH. My alarm goes off... her alarm goes off... my alarm goes off and so on and so forth. We are always running late. All we have for choices of food are yogurt (blugh), toast, cheese, fruit. While we are sprinting out the door we grab the toast, and maybe a piece of cheese and fruit. So, I thought on this brave day that I would ask Pepi if she could make hard boiled eggs at night so that we could have them in the morning. Now, you also have to picture me giving hand signals and doing charades to try to describe how to hard boil an egg with limited Spanish and with my dictionary upstairs. Oh the look of confusion. If looks could kill.... I swear... I would have exploded in a second. "Huevos???? Por desayuno?! Nooooooo. No, no, noooo." In English: "Eggs, for breakfast??? Are you a fucking retard? No, no no no nooooo!" Wow. What did I just do? We then tried to explain that we eat eggs for breakfast in America, not for lunch and dinner like they do here. I didn't need her to make me eggs... I was literally just asking if she ever does that. Welp, the answer was no. She is always talking about her high cholesterol so during that conversation she tells us that her "medico"... doctor... says that we shouldn't eat more than 3 eggs a week. Fine. Whatever. High cholesterol. What about that cheese you eat every single day Pepi? The cheese spread on the table, the cut up "blanco" cheese that you have an entire cheese wheel in your fridge....the goat/brie cheese concoction you make with honey and oregano... god woman, you're gonna die of high cholesterol and take us down with you!!!! So I ask, nicely of course (not easy at this point after I have been shut down hard) and ask, "Pepi, el queso tiene cholesteral (The cheese has cholesterol)".... Pepi: " Nooooo, todos los dias!" Every day Pepi? You're telling me your medico crack head says that you can "eat cheese everyday?" Hmm... I think not. But what am I going to do, argue with my little old lady who feeds me all day, everyday? Nope. So i swallowed hard and walked upstairs.

The problem here could have been that the doctor told her to not eat cheese, but she's so deaf that she blocked it out. On our first Sunday here we learned that everything in Sevilla is closed. So we slept in late, came down at 11:00, ate a little snacky snack and watched Pepi cook. We thought hey! maybe we will get lunch early. Nope. We had to wait another 3 1/2 hours until lunch. Anyway, Marissa was reading a book. No way could I do that. The kitchen was roaring with splattering oil, there was noise outside... it's just not possible for me to concentrate in such conditions. So I turned the tv on. What comes on? FRIENDS!!! Oh was I happy. So I'm watching tv and Pepi tells me I should turn the tv on. I point to the tv and she laughs. She didn't realize it was on, she couldn't hear it. She actually thought that for over an hour I was just staring at a wall. The pictures of her family aren't THAT interesting to stare at for an hour. Sorry Pepi, your family looks just like everyone elses, and you've showed us about 5 times by now. Si, Si, es bonita....blah blah blah.

I really can be a sarcastic bitch. She really is the sweetest little munchkin lady ever. Sometimes I have these moments where I think she hates me. Then we sit down at dinner, I smile after I take the first bite, look at her, and then finally we speak the same language. Not Spanish, but the language of food. Maybe that's why I love it so much. Everyone needs it. It makes you feel at  home, makes you feel good, and safe. I've only known her a week, but I know she will have a special place in my heart. She calls me hija (daughter.) Que hija? What, daughter? So, so, so precious. Sometimes when she is only talking to Marissa and I'm staring off into space, I look at the little details in her face. Like the little bit of lipstick left on her top lip by the end of the day or how her skin is soft, but plump. I wish my Nanny could meet her, and speak the same language. I feel like it would be an interesting combination of grandmother's.

Which leads me to how giving and wonderful she is, just like my own grandmother. I pointed to a picture of smoked salmon on the side of the box of crackers and asked her if she liked salmon. "Si, si, me gusto." When I said I did too, she immediately said she will buy some for us. I mentioned I like Spanish ham. Yep, she's buying that too. She said we need variety and she wants us to be happy. She said we are going to be here a long time and we should tell her exactly what we like and don't like. We try to get her to change her mind, but there's no turning back. She wants to please us, so I think we'll just let her.

She keeps chocolate in the refrigerator and Marissa and I break off a piece after dinner sometimes. She went food shopping the other day and bought more since she saw we liked it so much. So after dinner the other night we snuck downstairs as if we were doing something wrong, grabbed the chocolate and came back upstairs. I started singing, "I've Got the Golden Ticket" from Willy Wonka and danced around the room with it. We looked like two little kids going crazy over a chocolate bar. We thought about if we ate the whole thing what Pepi would say to us in the morning. Pepi: "Donde esta la chocolata?" And then we would say what she said to us over the egg battle: "Chocolata? Despues cena??? NO. No, no, no, no." This is probably way funnier to me and Marissa than it is to anyone out there reading it, but we laughed for a good 5 minutes over this in our beds. Then we laughed for another 5 more minutes about how squeaky our beds are. Every time we move it could wake up an entire city block. God I love this place. Everything is funny, everything is delicious, and everything is an adventure.