A Little More Spanish

After my last outburst, I feel the need to talk about something more, well, Spanish.

Today, Wednesday, is my tutoring day, where I go in and chit chat with a seventeen year old Spanish girl in her native tongue then in my own. After an hour intercambio I teach her two younger sbiling English. I believe I have mentioned that they are all incredible in English, and that it is a bit of a feeling inadequate hour for me. Well, today, I ate dinner with them. The family had graciously invited me, I accepted and they made me vegetarian food.

First, to begin, I told them I was a veggie, not Jewish. It was not that I wanted to keep a secret from them, it was that I was too lazy to explain to the family what my kosher meant, and what restrictions it created. I figured it didn´t really matter. I was not hiding it, I was just lazy, as always.

So, I will now tell you all about my experiences eating dinner with another family, I almost feel like I cheated on Lola and Rafael...no, they knew, I informed them, they were not jealous.

So, I had always thought that military family meant cold and rigid, but the family was warm and friendly. The mother of the children, whose name I cannot for the life of me remember, was so unbelievably nice to me. Each time I came over she offered me anything under the sun, and reiterated that if I EVEr need ANYTHHING they were there to help me. Mind you, I literally come in for two hours a week, and they give ME money. So, finally, after a few weeks of class, I ate dinner with them.

A traditional Spanish Omlette, or Tortilla de Patata was prepared, with well, egg and potato. Fancy, flowery bread was placed on the table, along with the omnipresent Manchego cheese, from La Mancha, so therefore of the highest quality, along with empanadas de atun y tomate (tuna and tomato baked yumminess). And finally, a sallad of cut lettuce and homemade salsa de ajo, garlic salsa. Essentially, it was arguably the most yummy dinner ever. I even got the recipe for how to make the salsa (only one problem, I need a mortar and pestle). So, if you cannot tell from my salivating, I clearly liked the meal. It had flavors beyond salt (aka, my favorite flavor, the one I miss most dearly, garlic). It was rich and delicious, and I did not eat too much, so I actually feel good right now.

So, beyond the yummy plates, it was more the feeling that I felt (how redundant!) at the table. I was being served, yes, so I felt a little uncomfortable, but I also felt like although I knew these people very little, they knew me well. They were so friendly, and although the mother spoke little to no English, and we only spoke in Spanish at the dinner table, somehow I felt okay there. It was a feeling of warmth that reminded me of my own family, of the embarassing stories, and even of the little fights that make outsiders feel awkward (ofcourse it happend, by hey, when a family loves, they also fight). Needless to say, I had a great dinner, a real Spanish dinner, with a normal Spanish family, and it left me hungry for my own dinner table, in America, with those that love me.