Recalling the plane ride to Alicante is like recalling a restless sleep. I entered the airport in Austin and awoke in warmth. A program coordinator welcomed us at the airport with warm greetings with hugs and two kisses on the cheek. The city embraces us with warm (but not burning like Austin’s) sunshine, cozily packed together buildings painted friendly, mellow shades of green, melon coral, and blue. My host mother called and waved to me as soon as my taxi paused by her apartment. Her granddaughters swept me into games of hide and seek, drawing, and exploring the apartment.
My host family is a grandmother named Maria Carmen. Her granddaughters thoroughly enjoy playing with the girls their grandmother hosts. They are 7 and 10, but respond to my partially formed Spanish with humbleness and positivity beyond their ages. But their playfulness matches their ages
Maria Carmen cooked me paella in a big paella pan and the spices and flavor immediately revived my energy levels (consumed by stale plane air and lively playtime with the nietas). Her soup and bread were milder but invigorating for the taste buds. I concluded lunch with a cup of natilla, which tastes like sweetened condensed milk mixed into pudding.
Maria Carmen took me to through the neighborhood to the beach and dropped me off at a restaurant. I tasted breads, tapas, smoked meats, and marvelous postres while watching the nighttime seep into the mountain outside the window.
Apparently alcohol is a large part of the culture and beer is sold on university campuses.
I can’t remember the last time I consumed so many carbs and fats so remorselessly as I did today. For the next two months, my taste buds will be celebrating as heartily as the bar-goers in Spain do.
The 30+ names and faces to try to learn, the tsunami of Spanish, and the complete omission of Asian culinary practices still sit in my stomach, waiting to digest, My host mother says that the first day is the worst. But this overwhelming beginning does not meet me with dread, but with excitement to enter the process of growing clarity and comfort in this warm city.
My host family is a grandmother named Maria Carmen. Her granddaughters thoroughly enjoy playing with the girls their grandmother hosts. They are 7 and 10, but respond to my partially formed Spanish with humbleness and positivity beyond their ages. But their playfulness matches their ages
Maria Carmen cooked me paella in a big paella pan and the spices and flavor immediately revived my energy levels (consumed by stale plane air and lively playtime with the nietas). Her soup and bread were milder but invigorating for the taste buds. I concluded lunch with a cup of natilla, which tastes like sweetened condensed milk mixed into pudding.
Maria Carmen took me to through the neighborhood to the beach and dropped me off at a restaurant. I tasted breads, tapas, smoked meats, and marvelous postres while watching the nighttime seep into the mountain outside the window.
Apparently alcohol is a large part of the culture and beer is sold on university campuses.
I can’t remember the last time I consumed so many carbs and fats so remorselessly as I did today. For the next two months, my taste buds will be celebrating as heartily as the bar-goers in Spain do.
The 30+ names and faces to try to learn, the tsunami of Spanish, and the complete omission of Asian culinary practices still sit in my stomach, waiting to digest, My host mother says that the first day is the worst. But this overwhelming beginning does not meet me with dread, but with excitement to enter the process of growing clarity and comfort in this warm city.