You call that a kitchen?

I got home from class a little while ago, can’t get a hold of my parents, so I’m taking this opportunity to update.

Yesterday, save for the 3.5 hours of sleep I got, went very well with the exception of one thing (which is addressed in the title of this entry and I’ll discuss later).

First of all, I feel like my comprehension of Spanish has improved overnight. Literally. I can understand the Spaniards much better, even before my classes started. I kind of feel like God was trying to encourage me because I was worried that my Spanish won’t be at the level I want by the time I leave in January. Granted, I’m still trying to figure out a way to afford 4 more weeks of classes, room, living expenses and bills, but I do feel more encouraged (I do want to see if I can work as a English tutor, or part-time doing something, I don’t know).

Yesterday my family and I went to church. Honestly, I didn’t feel like going, especially as sleep deprived as I was, but let’s be honest, church is one of those things where if you don’t make an effort to go at the beginning, you’re not going to feel like going at all later. But yeah, I enjoyed the music and could understand like 97% of the sermon. The announcements were hard for me to understand, but my dad did mention that he was missing some teeth.

Afterwards we went to my sister’s house where her host wanted to cook lunch for us. In Spain, lunch is the biggest meal. During the lunch, I had to rush to move in my things, since my host insisted that I couldn’t come later than 5, but we were only gone about 45 minutes.

Anyway, my sister’s host, Nieves, is the sweetest person (I’m only saying her name because initially I had written “my sister’s host” like 6 times). She gave my sister the room with 2 beds in it in case I want to crash there from time to time instead of walking back to Triana every night. She lives in the center of town, like maybe 5 minutes away from my school.

Nieves’ husband is from Illinois. He was an astronaut with NASA. The king of Spain even gave him a gold medal and a plaque of some sort (and the host herself got a plaque that said “Lady of Honor.”). Nieves herself is an English teacher, which probably made the meal a little more enjoyable for my parents, Dad especially.

The lunch was very good. We had tapas, one which had expensive organic ham (but Nieves said it was for “el cumple de mi hija” (my sister’s birthday was yesterday)). She made seafood paella for us, bought us bread and a birthday cake, and made mint tea with fresh herbs. We had some wine and champagne as well.

After lunch (2 hours after lunch ended, at 10pm. The Spanish are big on lunch), my family and I went to see Carmen, the play.


It was completely in Spanish, and although I understood like 99%, I’d be a bit hard pressed to tell you details of how the plot unfolded now. It was fun.

Anyway, leading to the negative part of yesterday, I got home around midnight, started to get ready for bed, went to the bathroom and passed the kitchen (I live right across from it), and saw that…

There is neither a stove nor oven in this kitchen. Just a microwave, sink, refrigerator, and hot plate. My dorm kitchen freshman year of college was better equipped. I was halfway tickled because Nieves told me that the kitchen is not important in Spanish homes. OBVIOUSLY lolol. How the host thinks I’m supposed to make meals for myself for the next 5 months without the essentials is beyond me. I’m going to head to El Corte Inglés to see if they have a large enough toaster oven. If the hot plates are cheap enough, I’d like to buy one so I could have two to cook with at once. Even something like beans and rice would take forever to cook with just one hot plate.

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~ by Revé on September 5, 2011.

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