Chapter Fourteen: Frohe Weihnachten

English. Spanish. Those are the only two languages that I can be proud to say to know how to speak. When attempting to communicate in any other, it comes out as word vomit. So if you speak German and you are reading my title trying to figure out what it means, all I can say is that it is not my fault. Rather the fault lies with Google's poor translation system to find an accurate translation for "Merry Christmas."

Merry Christmas or Feliz Navidad or Frohe Weihnachten. I may not have sent out Christmas cards this year to family and friends. Nor have I really done any true baking or decorating. But I like to think that I still appreciate Christmas and what it stands for. Especially this year when celebrating the holidays away from home. So with that said, I'd like to share just how exactly I celebrated Christmas this year of 2011.

My trip started out at the Bilbao airport one week ago from today on last Thursday to head to Hamburg, Germany. Arriving late in Hamburg and reading the instructions that my friend, Christina, had given me, I had only a second to realize that I had about thirty minutes from landing in Hamburg to catch the train to the center of the city. By good faith I found the train and bought my ticket from the machine (remind me one day to write a blog about the glory of changing the machine's screens from a foreign language to English). And it was then that I like to think that I met my guardian angel.

Before buying my ticket I was close to breaking down and asking for help because I had no idea what to do. But the only other company around seemed to be an old man wearing dirty brown work pants and a green and yellow checkered sweater. Clearly not worried about his fashion statement. However, with the looks of him, I figured my odds were better if I just changed the language instead of asking my peculiar companion. After grabbing my ticket and change, I made my way down the steps to wait for the train. However, two steps behind me was my peculiar soon-to-be friend. The old man asked me something in German and like the foreigner that I was, I could only make a weird gurgle sound from the throat and shake my hand as a gesture to say that I did not speak the language what so ever.

And just like that, my assumptions of the man as being dirty, unclean, and unintelligent, disappeared. With a beautiful British accent and just a hint of German along with it, he asked me:

"So what language is yours? Is it English?"

Yes, yes it is, I told him. And that is how I came to meet Michael May.

Michael May was heading in a similar direction as I was so we took the train together. He even read the directions that my friend gave me to make sure I would be okay after he left. But in the time we had together I learned many things about him. First, he is originally from Hamburg, Germany but spent nearly twenty years of his life teaching English in Israel and even spent many Christmases in Bethlehem. He knows not only English but French, Spanish, and Hebrew as well. After those years he came back to Germany to continue teaching language. He taught me the history of Christmas in Germany along with the history of the book "A Christmas Story." So many things I learned and now I feel guilty knowing he is somewhere not knowing a single thing about me. Not even my name. Even though I asked for his name as he left, he never asked me for mine but just shook my hand, wished me a Merry Christmas, and left the train.

It took me until the next day to realize that although we met in the airport train station, he had no luggage. Nothing. I recall nothing that he had with him. So why was he in the airport waiting for the train? I have no idea. All I know is that I am very thankful this holiday season for a man named, Michael May.

Now that 's not the end of my Christmas story. This all happened within the first 45 minutes of arriving to Hamburg. I still had to change trains and arrive to where my friend Christina lived which was in Stade or a small town about an hour from Hamburg. It was not until after 11 o'clock that night when I finally reached her town, but seeing her at the train station made all worries disappear. We stayed up until nearly 2 o'clock in the morning talking, talking, and talking some more. From there on we celebrated Christmas together like no other.

Therefore, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday flew by. She and I cooked dinner, walked around her town, visited the Christmas market in Hamburg, went to a Christmas eve mass (all in German by the way), had hot chocolate with her host family, talked to our own families via Skype, opened Christmas presents from one another, visited a miniature train museum (much cooler than what it sounds), and even went ice skating. Before I knew it, Tuesday had arrived and I would be making my way back to Spain.

Within those days I came to understand something very clearly, Christmas is about spending time with those you care about. Even though I love you all dearly who are reading this blog, I do not mean that because I did not spend Christmas with you that therefore I do not love you. No, no, no. Don't think like that. I love you all. But because Christina and I were both in Europe with no extra cash to bring us home for the holidays, we spent the time together. We formed our own traditions alongside the Germans for Christmas this year. Thus, Christmas was much merrier this year than I thought it would be.

Having said that, I would like to say one more time Merry Christmas, Feliz Navidad, and if this is correct German, I would also like to say to everyone, Frohe Weihnachten!

Chapter Thirteen: Showers to Light

Looking at the forecast for the weekend, I saw nothing but showers, showers, and more showers. I know I should not complain since this autumn in northern Spain has been unusually warm and dry. But unlike the first snow fall which is always thrilling and makes you want to play outside, the first rain showers are tiring and make you want to stay inside. However, like the stubborn person that I am, I ignored nature's warning and attempted a walk to church this morning.

Allow me to preface this that before I left the house, the skies were blue. And the winds were down. Since I could not find my umbrella for the life of me, I decided to just carry my rain jacket with me for safe measure. What an idiot, I tell you. I should have taken those few extra minutes to find my precious umbrella. But what did I do? I left the house in a hurry.

New Life lesson: Do not be in a hurry when dealing with Mother Nature.

Hurrying down the hill, I met up with one ugly, one dark, one scary-looking storm cloud. Instead of turning around and just saying a few prayers back home to make up my absence in church, I carried on. As the first droplets hit my head, I pulled over my hood. As the breeze got a little colder, I pulled the jacket closer to me. However, as the droplets turned to pelting rain and the breeze changed to an icy wind, I made a run for it. Unfortunately it took more than a block or two in to find a place to take cover. By the time I found cover under the overhang of a building, the wind and rain had already pelted me both sideways and from top to bottom.

Fifteen minutes I waited for the rain the clear. So fifteen minutes I arrived late to church. Soaked to the bone, I found an empty seat towards the back which luckily saved me the embarrassment of walking up towards the front with squeaky shoes. Sitting in the cold, dark cathedral, I had arrived towards the end of the sermon. Too wet to care to listen, it took a few moments for me to realize that the church service had something extra special. A baptism.

I love baptisms. Why? I don't know. Probably because I love watching the babies squirm as water is poured gently over them. And probably because it is such a beautiful day for both the parents and godparents. And what a beautiful day this day turned out to be during mass for the newborn and family. I swear I tell the truth about this.

Because of few decorations and windows, the church is not known for exuberant color nor brightness. Rather its lack of flair enhances the Gothic environment that it was tended to portray. But on this particular day in midst of the constant rain showers, a ray of sunlight hit the windows perfectly during the baptismal ceremony so that the whole inside of the cathedral lit up.

After having been drenched by showers due to walking to church and after having watched a baby receive his first baptism of holy water, the ray of sunlight lit up many lives that morning.
Perhaps it was a small moment during the day that for some is only an occurrence and nothing more. There are others, though, who take these moments a little bit more seriously. After just figuring out what I want from my life, I had to retake Life's new lesson into consideration with haste. So upon leaving the building and leaving the newly baptized child, I walked around in the light. No hurry. No rush. I wandered around the old surroundings of the cathedral. A place I have come to know and understand well after these past few months. In the meantime, I took videos of what I like to call what happens to the sea when rain showers meet up with light. The waves were gorgeous today with their forms and colors distinct to what Mother Nature brought in from the weekend of showers and light.

Chapter Twelve: Journey of Paz

Renunciar a olvidar, renunciar a la venganza.~ Not forgetting, not seeking vengeance.

When handed the opportunity to travel, I take it for fear that the chance could slip through my fingers. So this week having Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday off due to National holidays, I had high hopes of traveling for the long weekend in order to reflect and answer some questions by myself.

Life is, however, sometimes unexpected and she will every so often throw a blow at your face to slow down a bit. AKA: Life threw one nasty head cold in my direction. She forced me to stay home. She made me bed-ridden. However, on Friday morning when I woke up with coughing and a dripping nose, I told her that this was enough. I told Life that she could not ruin my whole weekend. So even though I was eager to climb the mountains in the area, I was at least sensible enough to know that that would deteriorate my health even more. Instead of daring the adventurous with nature, I stuck with humankind. Searching through my worn travel book, I desperately scanned the pages to find something worthy as a day trip with little physical activity. And in the section of Pais Vasco (my neighboring region), I found my answer.

Guernica. A small town in Pais Vasco, Guernica was both witness and victim to warfare during World War II. Since this era has always fascinated me and because I was literally only 45 minutes away from the town, I made my decision. I packed my bag as if I came from the pharmacy. Two packages of tissues, a bottle of ibuprofen, bottled water, I was ready to go.

This was a spontaneous move on my part, I know. This was basically my first day trip alone since I had arrived to Spain back in late September. However after catching the bus from Castro Urdiales to Bilbao and from Bilbao to Guernica, I realized the thrill once again of traveling alone. You make your plans. You make the decisions. You choose where and when to go. So stepping off the bus into Guernica, I came across another one of Life's unexpected moments. At the time, though, I did not realize it and you can only imagine the annoyance I felt when I was approached by someone asking, "Perdón. ¿Pero eres española?" (Excuse me. But are you Spanish?) I answered politely, no, and walked on, not wanting to be disturbed on my solo journey.

You can imagine further more the irritation I felt when the fella asked me again in English , "So are you teaching English here too with the Auxiliares Program?" So, yes, we were two Americans from the same program teaching English here in Spain that just so happened to meet up in a small town. And yes, Life can be so hilarious sometimes.

However, I don't want to seem rude, but for those who know me, you know I love to be around people. That is until when I have made up my mind to be left alone. In that case, I literally just want to be left alone. So it took a ton of effort on my part not to just give the guy the cold shoulder. But since I am from Wisconsin, I am also not a rude person. But I am skeptical.

So when I looked at him, I saw he was in his mid-twenties. Just a skinny, tall fella whose hair went short and then long up to his shoulders with dark, thick-framed glasses. And although he did not have a head cold like me who wanted to journey solo, he at least was talkative enough and quiet enough to not expect a lot from this strange American girl he just met. So like the good person that I am, I figured it was no harm to follow each other around for the day.

The stop we made once we reached the tourist office, was the Guernica Peace Museum. A place I was most looking forward to on this short trip of mine. Before I explain what the museum represents, I should first give a short overlay of what happened in Guernica during WWII. So bear with me a bit while I give a mini history lesson.

Back during WWII, Spain remained neutral due to a civil war that it was having within its own country. Different political parties wanted power over the country and eventually a dictator called Francisco Franco took over. However, there was still tension between regions and parties within Spain. In that case on April 26, 1937, an attack was made on the town of Guernica. Although Franco refused to enter the WWII officially, he was nevertheless on good speaking terms with the Germans. On that day then, the German Condor Legion unleashed over 100,000 lb of explosives over the town within 3 hours as a way to "practice" a new military strategy of carpet-bombing. Thus, Franco wanted to make an example of this town in order to put an end to any more northern political uprisings and to further the support for his forces.

As you can imagine, the town was destroyed. The only buildings left unscarred were the assembly chamber, the church of Santa Maria and the symbolic oak tree of Guernica. The town then was rebuilt over the next five years but it has since then remained as a universal symbol for warfare atrocities and indiscriminate killing. And today, Guernica is trying to look away from the past and look towards the future for peace and reconciliation throughout the world. Thus bringing me back to the museum I went to.

The Museo de la Paz de Guernica aims at not only bringing forth peace in the town but in the whole world. There were exhibits about what was happening during the Spanish Civil War but even more so, exhibits of the acts of peace that shone through that dark period of history. Take the following example of the woman called Elisabeth Eidenbenz.

Elisabeth was a Swiss teacher who with her warm and kind heart joined the Asociación de Ayuda a los Niños en Guerra or Association to Aid Children in War. Between the years of 1939 and 1944 she saved nearly 600 children working as a nurse during the Spanish Civil War. At that time, pregnant mothers were receiving very little support and many of their newborns died upon birth and died later on because of malnourishment. But Elisabeth changed the scenes upon arrival and saved many lives. A beautiful story for an ugly history.

After the museum, there was little to say. Seeing the history displayed like that leaves one silent. So instead of continuing onto other museums, the other American and I instead just walked around and saw the rebuilt town from WWII. And while walking around, I began to realize I did not mind the other American's company so much. With company, it was easier to comprehend what happened at that place so many years ago and why it happened. Thus, enjoying a mid-day meal later on, I came to realize two things.

One, I took this day trip to be a solo journey. I wanted to reflect and answer questions for myself as to what I wanted in the next year. Future events can be both exciting and frustrating, especially when you do not know exactly what you want. So with my stubborn Scottish blood, I meant to make the decisions on my own and without any help or advice. But I eventually found myself asking the other American questions I normally don't ask of strangers. For example: What would you do? Why? What do you think...? So I have found that although some journeys can be lonely, they should never be done alone.

And two, peace. Peace can come in many forms. I have acknowledged this before. World peace. Inner peace. Peace is a beautiful thing and something to be cherished and yet also shared. Walking around the town of Guernica, I was surprised by the lack of revenge that the town felt for the past. Such a devastating event can cause extreme hatred with people. But the people here have come to accept the motto: Renunciar a olvidar, renunciar a la venganza.

Could you imagine? A journey of peace like this town took? What if the whole world took this journey for a day? A week? A month? A year? I truly believe we could improve this planet if we all adapted our mottos to that of northern Spain: Not forgetting, not seeking vengeance.

Chapter Eleven: Comida

SPANISH MEATBALLS

Here, on the other hand, is a recipe that turned out really well for me. And it's a recipe that I have no shame in sharing the picture of.

If or when you come to Spain, you will most likely go to a tapas bar in the evening. Small portions of food served with a drink. That is how and why I chose to make croquetas and also meatballs. These are both typical things you could see at at tapas bar. The people also make them in their homes as part of the meal too, but if you go out, you will most definitely see croquetas and meatballs as an option to choose from.

Ingredients for the Meatballs
1 pound of beef
1/2 of an onion finely chopped
1 garlic clove, chopped
2 tbsp dried parsley
3-4 tbsp fresh white breadcrumbs
1 egg, beaten
Flour, for coating
Olive oil

Ingredients for the Sauce
2 carrots, thinly sliced
1/2 onion, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, chopped (the original recipe called for 3 cloves but I only put in one)
2 tbsp dried parsley
1 tbsp paprika
Generous pinch of saffron
Salt
Olive Oil

Steps
1: For the meatballs, put the meat in a bowl with the onion, garlic, parsley and breadcrumbs. Mix with your hands until well combined, add the beaten egg and mix until well combined. Shape the mixture into small meatballs.
2: Sprinkle some plain flour onto a plate, and roll the meatballs in the flour to coat lightly.
3: Heat one tablespoon of the olive oil in a frying pan and add a few meatballs to the pan. Fry gently, turning frequently, until golden-brown on all sides. Remove from the pan and set aside to drain on kitchen paper. Repeat with the remaining meatballs, cooking them in batches until they are all cooked. Top up the oil as needed during the cooking process.
4: Once the meatballs are cooked, make the sauce. In the same pan as the meatballs were cooked in, fry the carrots, onions and garlic over a medium heat until the onions are soft and lightly colored. Add the parsley, paprika and saffron, and pour in 1 1/2 cups of water. Bring to the boil, simmer for 2-3 minutes to thicken, season with salt to taste, and then add the meatballs to the pan. Simmer for 10 minutes to warm through before serving.
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CROQUETAS
(I have no idea how to translate this)

I said at the beginning that I would upload any and all pictures of the food I made. No matter if it turned out well or badly. Well, I lied. For the past few weeks, I have been debating about whether to admit to this particular one. It's not that this food tasted bad. Rather, these Spanish croquetas of mine that I made tasted quite well. The problem is that they did not look like proper "Spanish" croquetas.

Allow me to explain the ingredients and directions first and I will fill you in from there.

Ingredients
Olive oil
2 teaspoons of flour
1 cup of milk
1 egg
100 grams of bread crumbs
150 grams of ham cut into small pieces
Salt

Steps:
1: Put the oil in the frying pan and warm. Once the oil is warm, remove the pan from the heat and add the flour to the oil. Stir with a wooden spoon until it becomes a paste.
2: Put the pan on the heat again and add the milk, little by little, stirring the mixture all the time until it is cooked and even. Add the nutmeg, a pinch of salt and the ham. Cook in the pan until the mixture is stiff and don't stop stirring.
3: As soon as the mixture is stiff enough, spoon it into a bowl and let it cool. Beat the egg. Once the mixture is cool, make small portions with your hands into the shape of an oval. Dip each croqueta into the beaten egg and then dip it into the breadcrumbs which will stick to it because of the egg.
4: Place each croqueta separately on a plate. You can fry them right away or put them into the fridge and leave them until you are ready to cook and eat them. When you are ready, fry them in a pan with enough oil to cover them. When they are golden and crispy, take them out and lay them on paper towel to absorb the excess oil.

Throughout this process, I had a few difficulties which I will explain here and hope that you won't have the same if you try to make this recipe.

To begin with, I had already seen and eaten croquetas so when I read "breadcrumbs" I knew that they would have to be small. All of the croquetas I have eaten as tapas have been smoothly covered with a breaded layer of deliciousness. However, after an hour of ripping apart bread and attempting to toast it and beat the you-know-what out of it, I gave up and decided my croquetas would instead be harshly covered with breaded globs. My suggestion to you is the next time you go to the local Spanish supermarket (like me), pick up some croqueta mix for 3.99 euros. It saves on time and on energy.

Carrying on, when you go to pour the milk in the pan and to cook it, be sure to cook it long enough. The recipe says "stiff". Be sure the mixture is stiff so that you can make small portions out of them. You see, I got lazy. I was stirring, stirring, and stirring some more when I decided it was good enough. Well, it wasn't. By the time I went to cover it with egg, the entire mixture basically fell through my fingers. I could not get an accurate shape or form to my croquetas. So I ended up stubbornly throwing the croqueta mix into globs on the plate then pouring the bread mix (not rolling the portions into the bread mix like the recipe said...) over the entire globby mess.

Apart from the mess I made, the taste was at least a success. Which is how I came to convince myself to share the recipe and story. If you have never tried a Spanish croqueta, you need to. If you try this at home, please learn from my mistakes, and I wish you the best of luck. And no, there is no photo at this time to show how it turned out. I did not take one. I do promise to make the recipe again and show an accurate picture of what it is supposed to look like.

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SOPA DE LENTEJAS
(Lentil Soup)

I keep saying my beginner's luck must run out. But this time it proved me wrong. My soup, believe it or not, turned out quite tasty. Even a fellow teacher commented on the good looks and smells of it at school.

So if you are stuck in a rut with cooking, try this one for a cold, wintry day in the Midwest. It has a lot of flavor, but not spicy. Remember, Spanish food is NOT spicy. Just flavorful.

So here it is:

Ingredients
250 grams of lentils (about 2 1/2 cups)
1 chorizo (Spanish sausage)
100 grams of serrano ham
1 large onion
1 small glass of red wine
2 cloves (optional and I did not put them in mostly because I did not know what they looked like)
1 red pepper (optional but I did put it in and was really good)
Olive oil
1 bay leaf
3 carrots
4 small potatoes
2 cloves of garlic
1 pinch of saffron (however, I did not add this in)
fresh parsley
salt and pepper

Steps:
1: Soak the lentils for at least a half hour
2: Cut the ham and chorizo in diced-shaped pieces; peel and wash the carrots and potatoes; slice the carrots and halve the potatoes; wash and slice the red pepper
3: Drain the lentils and put them in a sauce pan. Add enough water so that it covers all of the chorizo, ham, carrots, potatoes,pepper, wine, and lentils; put the pan on low heat and cover.
4: Slice the onion and garlic and fry while stirring all the time; after a minute or so add the red pepper and when it is all soft, add the ingredients to the rest of the soup
5: Let the soup simmer for 40 minutes then boil off the excess liquid

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A bucket list is not a bucket list if you don't try a little to complete it. So this week with national holidays and no school, I decided to make an attempt at it. And what better way to start off but with food? That was my thought. And actually, all in all, it went pretty well. The downside is, though, I am worried that I could have used up all of my beginner's luck. But time will sure be able to tell.

In the meantime, my first dish to practice with was paella. When looking at the photo, it may be deceiving because with the peppers it probably looks a little spicy or picante. But get that thought out of your head immediately because Spanish food is unlike anything you could have ever tried at Taco Bell or any Mexican restaurant. So if your taste buds don't go in the direction of spicy but rather of flavor, Spanish food would probably be a perfect fit for you.

So from here on out, I promise to upload personal photos of what I make, recipes of how I make it, and any other tidbits I can pass along as stories or advice.

PAELLA

If you go online to search Spanish food, you will no doubt find many recipes for paella. It is honestly not hard to make. However, it is time consuming. And if you are from the U.S., you may have trouble finding some ingredients. The main ingredient that makes "paella" what it is all about is the spice called azafran or saffron in English. Good luck finding it in the stores. After studying abroad here three years ago, I came back hoping to make paella for my parents only to find out that supermarkets do not carry the spice. I did not, however, try any of the coop stores. That is something that you could try if you are interested in making this dish. However, if you would like me to bring some home for you, send me an email or message and I will be sure to put it on my list of things to do.

So here it is ladies and gentlemen, the recipe for paella.

Ingredients:
600 grams of short grain rice
Half a chicken in pieces
2 artichokes
2 medium sized red peppers
2 mature tomatoes
Black pepper
Garlic
Parsley
A strand of saffron
Olive oil
1/2 lemon
Sprig of rosemary and thyme
Salt

Steps:

1: Fry the chicken in some olive oil. Put the browned chicken pieces into a pan with 8 glasses of water, and bring to the boil. Leave simmering for half an hour.

2. Cut the artichokes and red pepper and fry them.

3: Fry the tomato and garlic in olive oil in the large paellera (special paella pan), then add the rice, stir for a minute and then add the chicken, chicken stock (there should be 6 glasses), artichokes, red peppers, the juice of half a lemon, black pepper, parsley, thyme, rosemary, the saffrón strands (grind them first) and salt.

4: Once all the ingredients are in the paella pan, turn the heat up to maximum and boil for about 10 minutes. Then lower the heat and leave to simmer for another 10 minutes. After 20 minutes, the liquid should have evaporated. Turn off the heat, and leave to stand for five minutes. If possible cover while it is standing.