Chapter Nine: Traditions and Passions

Traditions are laid down deep. They sink in and wrap around us to become a part of who we are. In the end, when these traditions are celebrated and remembered, they create passionate people. And if Spain is notorious for anything, it is for its traditions. And even more so, for its passionate people.

Now an entire book could be dedicated to explain the different traditions in this country. Do I want to bore you with a 300 page entry about this? Not really. I'll let you do the reading on your own. However, one important aspect that should and needs to be told is that Spain is a very Catholic country. Its historical roots are Catholic and thus, many traditions have sprung up from Catholic beliefs. For example: saints. Believe it or not, but every town and city has a patron saint and every town and city celebrate their saints. When these days occur, the town is decorated. Traditions are celebrated. And the people are passionate about their heritage.

Therefore, living on the sea, it only makes sense to dedicate this town to a saint of sailors or to San Andrés also known as Saint Andrew in English. So as you can imagine, many of the activities involved the water. Biggest of all, there were rowing competitions in the port. Boys and men alike raced against each other. Back and forth as they raced, I could not get over the intensity that the young boys had. Not young boys, excuse me. But young men. Maybe on the streets I would look down on them as boys but during that competition their passion transformed them into young men. Focused on nothing else, they pushed themselves back and forth along the port.

But like all cultures, tradition starts young. I can still remember going to cut down Christmas trees and lugging them back to the car. I can remember trying to find my Easter basket and secretly stealing a few pieces of candy as my breakfast. I can remember the smell of hotdogs and burgers on the grill for the 4th of July. Traditions like these were passed down to me. And like these young boys (I mean, "men"), their traditions are being passed down to them as well. With or without their knowing, their traditions are transforming them into the passionate individuals that they will soon become.

As the foreigner in this sort of situation, these traditions are clearly visible. But the passion needs further reflection and practice to notice. Since tradition is something to be seen, passion is something to be felt. In which case this takes time and patience and openness to compare your own traditions to that of others in order to fully convey what passion is in both cultures.

Chapter Eight: Gracias

A day to give thanks. A day to appreciate your blessings. A day so beautiful that I am surprised that only a few countries celebrate this day of Thanksgiving. And even more surprised to not find a whole turkey in the supermarkets. So thus begins this story of the week before Thanksgiving.

A week before Thanksgiving and all throughout Castro-Urdiales, a young girl pondered the perplexity of Spanish supermarkets. Supermarket number one: no turkey. Supermarket number two: no turkey. Supermarket number three: turkey breasts but no whole turkey. Come to find out the week before Thanksgiving, Spain does not sell turkeys. Go. Figure.

So with an American friend coming to visit last weekend to attempt at an early Spanish Thanksgiving, we turned the traditional American Thanksgiving to be what I like to call: "Spanishized." So allow me to make a list of what is traditional in the U.S. and how the Spaniards and the other American and I modified it.

1. Mashed potatoes-Don't worry, those were a good to go so nothing was altered there.
2. Carrots-Those too are easy to find so nothing weird happened there either.
3. Turkey-Ah-ha! Now we start the changes. So like I mentioned earlier, turkey is a bit difficult to find. And when you do find it, it is twice as much as chicken. To say the least, we had chicken instead. How did we cook the chicken you may ask? Well, we attempted at cooking it in the oven. The first time around it turned out perfectly. Too bad I don't have a photo to prove it. But the chicken ended early so we turned the oven off. When people began to arrive, we turned it back on to warm it up. Makes sense, right? That is until you start talking with Spaniards and you forget about it. Don't worry! It wasn't like the lentils! I swear! No burned pans or anything. The meat was just a little hard and well done.
4. Cranberries-I'm afraid the only version of cranberries we could find were the dried fruit kind. In other words, craisins.
5. Pumpkin pie- Well, not exactly. Pumpkin or calabaza is certainly easy to find but a pie tin? Not so much. So instead of pie we made bread. Probably the highlight of the night really between the Spaniards.

Now you are probably thinking, wait, a minute. What about stuffing? Gravy? Rolls? Pecan pie?

Well, let me tell you. Here's how Thanksgiving got Spanishized. Instead of stuffing, we had typical Spanish ham on the table. You know how in the supermarkets around Thanksgiving there are always turkeys overflowing the bins? Well, take that image and instead of turkeys in the bins, fill it with ham. And change the time perspective of it only being around Thanksgiving to all year-around. Yes, all year there is ham. Ham, Ham Ham. You can never get enough it. And there is not just one kind of ham. Ohhhhhhhhhhhh no. Goodness no. You have ham "curado" ,"serrano" ,"cocido", you name it, you have it.

And gravy? Instead of gravy, our first course of the meal was soup. And rolls? Instead of rolls, we had baguettes. And pecan pie? Instead of pecan pie, my roommate made a delicious tarta or cake.

Now this was already a week ago. Last Saturday, yes, that's right. So what have I done since? All this week at school I have had the chance to talk about Thanksgiving with the students and teachers. And the theme for my teaching? Giving thanks. With my first and second graders, we talked about what "thank you" means and made a chain out of paper that had drawings and words of things and people who we want to say thank you to. With my fourth and sixth graders, we dug deeper into American Indian culture and what it means to share especially between cultures.

With that, I must say that I am most thankful for the opportunity I had here to spread light and truth on a serious matter about culture in the school. Furthermore, I am thankful for the mutual respect for our holiday here in Spain and being open to share customs and traditions all in the same meal. Because is that not why celebrate this holiday? Because of the past and the sharing and respect of our cultures?

Chapter Seven: Third time's not the charm

Try, try again, and you will reach your goal. Otherwise known as third time's the charm. That's how the old saying goes anyways. Not so much in my case. One extremely new wonder in my life that I have had to practice while being here is cooking. Not just cooking what I am used to back home but attempting at creating a dish that could pass as a partial-looking Spanish dish. This way, when I bring my food to work to eat during our (yes, that's right,) two-hour break at mid-day, I do not have to look like the pathetic American who does not know how to even crack an egg.

So while being here, I have tried to eat lentils. Lentils are not very exciting, to say the least. But they are filling, nutritious, and pass as a Spanish dish. So on my list of requirements of food: check, check and check. Sounds pretty darn good from where I am standing. Not to mention I was told they were easy to make. Hmmm....

Attempt #1: Lentils come out dry, sticky, and with little flavor. I try to add water afterwards. Complete moron on my part. Do I eat them though? Yes, I am a poor recent college graduate after all.

Attempt #2: I add beef stock to the lentils to add more flavor. Success number one. However, on my way to work, the lid knocks over and spills most of the juices, including on my pants. Failure number two.

Attempt #3: I add beef stock like before. I wait and wait until it boils and add the lentils. As this was just last night, I have everything very fresh in my memory. You see, I need to explain myself here. Just so you know I have never EVER done this before in my life. But when a person is tired and stressed and frustrated (especially with student loan offices), one tends to forget things. Or in my case, forget lentils on the stove. So there I was, sitting in the living room watching television before going to bed when I smelled a crusty, burning smell from the kitchen. I won't add my thoughts at this point as I would prefer to keep this blog rated G. But I am sure you can easily use your imagination. So yes, I burned my lentils last night. If it were steak, it would have been VERY well done.

Near midnight, I could not just leave the lentils there to smoke up the entire apartment and probably that of the neighbors. First thought was to leave them on the window sill outside to cool. All fine and well until I lift up the pot and see that the pot burned a nice little spot on the window frame as well. Point taken. Always lay down a towel first. Then I decided to take them outside in a plastic bag. Wrong again. Hot lentils burn through plastic in case you did not know. But either way, they are safely stored outside, out of sight, out of mind.

So with these mistakes, one good thing I suppose you could say was I learned out to clean up after myself. If this ever happens to you and I wish that it never does, but hypothetically, it it were to happen, always use vinager to clean up . Soap? No. Not soap. Vinager. It works magic, son. I swear. Try it and you will believe me then.

You are probably wondering, what's the big deal? If the pot is not ruined, what is there to complain about? Well, you see this weekend I have a friend coming to visit and we planned to have a Thanksgiving dinner. You heard me. Have I ever cooked a turkey before? Does watching count? Have I ever made a pie? Does rolling the crust out count? Basically, no. I have never cooked a dinner like this before.

Nervous, you say? Ha! Yes, actually I am. So any tips of the trade you might have for Thanksgiving, that would be wonderful. If not, a prayer will do too.

Chapter Six: Kisses

Affection is apparent. It is held highly here. It is true and dear to the Spanish. And kisses are just one way to show it. If you plan to make a trip over the big pond, you must first be prepared for the traditional two kisses on the cheeks.

Even though kisses are affectionate among the Spaniards, they can cause a mix of uncertainty among foreigners. I remember my first time coming to study here and constantly worrying about which direction I was supposed to go. To the left, first? Or to the right? What if I end up kissing the person's lips? Oh shoot! I only have ten more minutes before I meet my host parents! I assure you, it went just fine the first time around. No injuries. No scars. No horror stories.

The second time around now, it only seems natural to kiss a friend on the cheeks. Whether greeting or saying goodbye, it does not matter. Two kisses are in order. No matter what.

So today at school when it was a boy's birthday, it was also only natural to see the following: After passing out treats and singing happy birthday in English, the teacher chose three students by singing another song to come up and kiss the boy on the cheeks. One of the students was a girl and the other two were boys.

Hold up. Say what?! What did the teacher make the students do to the birthday boy? Was that not like just weird, Hannah? Maybe to the foreign eye, yes. Maybe if this were my first time around in Spain, I would think the same. However, I am on my second round. So I'm seeing things with a different perspective. And what I saw was this: affection. Affection for friendship. Affection for the different genders. And affection for life.

Chapter Five: Bucket list

Time is precious. You never know how much time you will have. One day you could be in small town America and the next you could be across the ocean living in cities only shown to you before in history textbooks. The first time I was in Spain, I honestly did not even imagine being able to come back to Europe. This second chance has made me think. Think about what I truly want to do this second time around. Thus, I have begun to make a bucket list. A list of things that I normally do not do but have always dreamed of doing. So instead of dreaming still, I have set my mind to fulfilling these things. So here it goes. My list is varied and some things will require courage on my part. But how often does life hand you second chances? Yeah. That's what I thought.

#1. Join a gym (not so scary yet, right?)
#2. Take Latin dancing classes
#3. Ski in the Alps
#4. Try every type of sea food there is possible (Eh? Say what?)
#5. Learn to cook traditional Spanish dishes (that's right. no more mac n' cheese)
#6. Walk the Camino de Santiago or Way of Saint James (30 some kilometers each day for a week?)
#7. Attempt at renting a car and drive up and down the northern coast (Careful Spanish drivers. An American is coming onto the road soon.)
#8. Go cliff jumping (Heights? What is my problem?)
#9. Watch a corrida de toros or bull fight
#10. Spend a full week in a country not knowing the language and try to get around.

There are probably more things to be added to the list. So if you think of something that you would do, tell me. Maybe I'll add it to the list. Maybe I won't. But please add any suggestions that you think are needed while I am here. Like I said before, it is a miracle to have this experience a second time and heaven only knows if I will get a third chance.

Chapter Four: I see

What can I say? The Spanish like their holidays. En punto. Nothing further to explain really except that this love for holidays creates several opportunities to travel. So this past weekend turned into a four day weekend when I had both Monday and Tuesday off from teaching. I took up the chance right away to meet up with friends in Bilbao, Spain. All three of us studied back in Eau Claire, WI to be both elementary and world language teachers. With the history that we have, this reunion was well worth the wait after we had all spent a full month in Europe. Discussing past, present, and future matters in our lives, we found ourselves roaming the streets of Bilbao and under covering treasures around each corner.

Bilbao is perhaps the first city that I have come across with an equal balance of the old with the new. This connection was immediate and obvious but the underlying message did not reach me until after I had left. It took me time to see the Guggenheim Museum with its artwork surrounding it and hidden within it. The reason for it is because the flowering "puppy" at the front doors, the swirling roof lines, the long-legged spider in the back were all pieces of art that one cannot see except in this city. It took time to see the old neighborhood and enjoy a two-hour meal of delicious food. And no, the food was not late. This is just the way life is here. You are served by dish and not by time. There is no rush here but rather enjoying the company with whom you are with. But more than anything, it took time to see the entire city from the hills to fully convey the mixture of culture and life here. Near sunset, I at first had a hard time capturing the landscape since I was looking into the sun. But waiting led to thinking and I saw what I could later reflect on with my life.

For some time now, I have always said that I saw life around me and knew what I wanted. All of this because I thought that I was an observer. An artist. I think I must have been in some sort of fog to deceive my sight. Because now I realize that like the city of Bilbao with the old and new, I too have that sense of old and new. I have my old self. The part who supports and scaffolds who I am today. But I also have this new and upcoming self who is reaching out for something different. The city and the company of close friends taught me this. I see this now. And realizing this, I also see that this next year here will open my eyes even more to fully understand where I want to be after this year abroad. Old with the new. What is to be the new? We'll have to wait and see.