Huercalense boredom?

“If you all need anything, you just let me know,” said my friend Mamadou to me in Spanish, our common language. He knew somehow that we would be needing something soon because he knows what it is like to be an extranjero (foreigner). Having arrived from Senegal four years ago, he became fluent in Spanish in only four months, transitioning from Wolof, his native tongue, and French, the lingua-franca in Senegal. Not only did he transition quickly linguistically, but he has made and does make a true effort to integrate into the culture here. If you walk down the street with Mamadou, you’ll soon discover that it’s rare to come across a soul who he doesn’t know. His story is quite an exception to the norm, however, so Tiffany, Margaret, and I are grateful that we’ve been adopted by this kind young man, a willing guide to cultural integration.

Immigration here is common, as I have realized, because in this tiny place I have met individuals from Egypt, Senegal, Italy, Lithuania, Ecuador, Peru, Argentina, Brazil, and of course Colombia. Every time I meet someone, the very first thing they want to know is, “Why are you in Huercal?” When I discover a new acquaintance is also an extranjero, I want to know the same thing. It’s as if to say, “Wait a second, how is it that you came from a really cool place in the world to this pea-sized town? Do you like being bored? Or is it for the money?” The response is usually the latter, as you might guess.

Though I have heard much about Huercalense boredom, I have yet to experience it for myself. Festivals have been going on every week since we arrived, if not in Huercal-Overa then in some nearby pueblo. I’ve been told this is not going to last, but for the moment we are in the middle a six day fury of non-stop partying which is the Huercal-Overa Feria. This festival, which attracts people from nearby cities as well as natives, includes rides for the kids, dancing and partying for anyone between adolescent and elderly, and delicious Spanish-style carnival food for everyone. You can come right as siesta begins at 3 in the afternoon and have drinks and tapas with friends. Dancing usually starts right around 6 and then continues until 6 the next morning! Fortunately, this has provided a lot of great opportunities to hang out with my co-workers this week. Oddly, I’ve also run into a few of my students in the same places. It seems not to faze the professors, though. Everyone loves the fiesta!

comida, cafe con leche, y caracol

I’m pretty sure I was made for the Spanish horario– the Spanish daily routine. The day starts around 8:00. We eat toast or fresh bread for breakfast with marmalade or a tomato paste that’s made with salt, vinegar, and olive oil. The marmalade sitting on my shelf of the refrigerator at the moment is ciruela amarillo – yellow plumb. This is my favorite fruit in Spain and ever in the world. I eat it in any form possible: whole, sliced, marmalade on toast, in yogurt, in pastry, on pastry, in hand, on hand, yummmm ciruela! Breakfast is, as it should be, accompanied by coffee, and Oh how I do enjoy a café con leche! Though I’ve taken a liking to café bon bon which is espresso largo mixed with sweetened condensed milk. Around 9:00, everyone is at work or at school and almost all the shops have opened. At 12:00, we’re all a little hungry of course so we have some more coffee and eat a montadito (a little sandwich) with jamón (ham) or eggs. Here let me just say that these people put eggs on anything at any time of the day. This is another reason we get along so well. The school day is done by 14:30 and we all go home to have a generous meal with the family, after which one will most likely have an inkling to go to sleep for a bit. This is convenient, because between the hours of 15:00 and 18:00 nothing is open (except for the shops owned by Brits who are NOT Spanish and don’t you forget it!) and nobody is out, so you might as well take the siesta to descansarse (sleep). Once siesta is over, we have another coffee and go out to meet friends. The place comes alive again and you’ll find people meeting for drinks from now until about midnight when it’s supper time. Dinner is small but still an event. The best part is that this doesn’t just happen on the weekends. People love to go out and enjoy themselves on any day of the week.

Did I mention how much I love café con leche? Little did I know there’s a plethora of coffee options including café bon bon, café corto, café solo, café Americano, and café largo. I know this because Osbaldo told me. In fact, I’ve been learning something new about food everyday lately. My Colombian padre, as I like to think of him, absolutely adores food. A former pastelerie chef, he loves baking, boiling, mixing, chopping, grilling, mashing, stewing, frying, and simmering just about anything. Not only that, but once we’ve all sat down together to have an extravagant comida, after a few minutes he’s already describing another apparently amazing dish that he knows how to make. I say apparently amazing, because the man’s eyes truly sparkle when he describes food. “A little bit of salt … a little bit a berenjila … olive oil … lemon juice … and it’s perfect,” he makes sure to pause after each bit of direction (given in Spanish) just so we can all imagine the different flavors he’s bringing into the picture.

Every once in a while Osbaldo goes to the nearby countryside to gather a supply of fresh fruit, nuts, and vegetables. From such trips, he’s brought back squash, figs, acelga (a type of leaf related to spinach that’s delicious in soup), and almonds. I had the opportunity of accompanying him on a countryside trip one afternoon along with Mari Elisa and Carolina. We gathered almonds and found caracoles (snails). One day, one of these little boogers hitch-hiked home on an acelga leaf. When the family discovered him, they were so delighted exclaiming, “Oh, ¡qué bonito!” – “how cute!” After that, he was promptly put into the refrigerator and cooked the next day.