¿Dónde Está SuperTarget?

Grocery shopping in Spain is...different. Different than shopping in the US - shocker, I know. I've been grocery shopping for a few days now and am just now starting to feel like my kitchen is set up. I'll give some credit for the extended shopping period to the fact that the kitchen started with nothing but bowls and plates, so building from the ground-up was an extra bonus challenge. Where's a Target when a sista needs one?!

I realized by about day 3 of grocery shopping that my first mistake was making a list. In the US, this was standard protocol for me, but in Spain it only causes disappointment and eventual exhaustion. See, back in Chicago, I could start my shopping at Aldi and check off as much as possible there, then pick up everything else at Trader Joe's...and maybe a couple basics at Dominick's...and one last thing at Whole Foods if I was feeling froggy. So yes, grocery voyages have always been my thing. It was always the best way to ensure I got what I wanted and for a fair price.

Well shoot, I have no idea which of these Spanish stores is akin to any of my Chi-town faves! I started at Carrefour Express and checked off a few items from my list, then moved to SimplyCity and checked off a couple more...trekked over to Lidl to check off one or two more...proceeded to Corte Inglés for a bit more....and then hit a couple fruterías before I fell out. But guess what? My list was still hella long because the bottom line is that some of these items just aren't readily available. This is about how I feel my conversation would go with the stores I visited as I moved through my grocery list:

• Sweet potatoes?
• Nah...You can try these corrugated batatas instead.
• Plain skim Greek yogurt?
• You fancy, huh? Better go shop in a rich neighborhood.
• Canned black beans?
• Gonna have to go to the Latin foods store for that.
• Jalapeños?
• Jajaja...we don't like spicy food like that. Don't play yourself.
• Kale?
• ¿Qué?

Needless to say, my list hasn't been fulfilled yet, and I know I'll find some of these things, but for now I'm adjusting and making some work-arounds, like cozying up to gazpacho in cartons to get my veggies in, pledging allegiance to acelga (chard) until I find col rizada (kale), and buying a slow cooker to make my own black beans. I probably won't shop with a list until I'm very familiar with what's available and where. My shopping will have to be based on what I want/can eat from what's available most likely, and a fair amount of trial and error. For example, I found almond milk, but it was so sweet that it was more like nutty Kool-Aid than a sub for milk. I bought mixed nuts for trail mix, but they're crazy salty. 

eggs...right there in the corner

In the meantime, check out some fun grocery facts...

Eggs are not refrigerated. Ever. Anywhere. Just chillin' in the corner (well, not literally, but you know what I mean). I may not be purchasing eggs the entire time I'm here. I know I've eaten unrefrigerated eggs, but I'm inordinately weirded out by this.

Milk isn't really refrigerated either. I'm down with this because it tastes good and there is a broad variety of milks available - including lactose-free milk that doesn't cost a grip.

Damn near anything nutty/trail-mixy/snacky qualifies as frutos secos (dried fruits). And oftentimes the nuts labeled as dried fruits are actually fried! Buyer beware!

neither frutos nor secos...discuss.

The seafood section is just...outchea.

seafood is....fresh!

In addition, I'm struggling to feel comfortable buying meat products because of dudes like this. *Diddy voice* For real? You just gon' lean on the meat counter and text? Is that what's hot in the streets?

are you on WhatsApp?

Wine is so cheap. So cheap. Only slight more expensive than bottled water, which is also far cheaper than in the States.

vino... < $1

Here are some items that probably wouldn't make it in the States. I didn't even realize I have a couple of these in my home!

in case you didn't already feel guilty about chugging that beer.

self explanatory

die, milk, die!

moldi bread?

This would be an exotic foods shop.

100% American

Welp, siesta is over, and I'm heading out to buy some exotic foods! Don't judge me if I come back with graham crackers and bad canned frosting. Hasta :)

mmm, artificial flavors!

No Pasa Nada

mi escuela

"No pasa nada." Literally, this phrase means "nothing happens," but for Spaniards, it captures a greater spectrum of sentiment: "no big deal"; "don't worry about it"; "doesn't matter to me"; "no problem."

Today I met with my school director and English coordinator to discuss the schedule for the upcoming year. When I visited the school last week, they informed me that the school has another auxiliar, whom I met today - a sweet undergrad from Australia named Georgia. Though she was introduced as my counterpart, my initial instinct was to look at her as an adversary, particularly around the table for discussing schedules. With one auxiliar, there's one schedule, so therefore no question, choice or recourse. But with two, pleadings, options and preferred opportunities are nearly certain. Someone is bound to get the "unpreferred" schedule.

Based on my research in the program, auxiliares generally have Fridays off, but some have Mondays off. Still others suffer the lamest fate of all - Wednesdays off. Sure, a day off is a day off, but a Wednesday off just chops up the week into funky little nuggets, and it certainly doesn't support extended weekend jaunts. Well waddaya know...the options before Georgia and me were Fridays off or...wait for it (I'm sure you know what's coming anyway)...wait for it...WEDNESDAYS off. Blerg.

blerg.

While my director discussed punctuality, sick days and school procedures in perfectly slowed-down Spanish, I distractedly stared at the paper showing the two schedules. On one side, carefree, laughter-filled Fridays in Greece, Morocco, Italy; breezy three-day weekends jet-setting across the continent. On the other side, rainy, hungover Wednesdays; humpday with no saucy benefit; a cruel weekend tease; a worthless day wasted in the middle of the week. Wednesday, ugh. Miércoles. It's even a weird word in Spanish.

We discussed flipping a coin for cara o cruz (Spains's heads or tails) and my Aussie counterpart immediately volunteered to flip the coin. I protested as much as I could in broken Spanish and hand gestures - that removes 50% of probability if someone gets to volunteer in one of the two steps. No, ma'am. So they decided to have us draw numbers from a hat, which was really an outstretched palm with crumpled paper towel bits: 1 for the Friday schedule; 2 for the Wednesday schedule. As soon as they hit the table, Georgia's little hand reached out for the crumple furthest from me. I have beef with this. Internal beef. Anyone who's eaten Chinese food with me knoooooows that I always take the fortune cookie furthest away! Always.  Nonetheless, I held onto my resolve for good karma, opened my paper and read: "2." WEDNESDAY.

¿Cómo se dice "blerg" en español?

Knowing that the time for pleading for a better schedule had come to a complete close, I took a breath and decided to be ok with this arrangement. There's a reason why I got this schedule; maybe I'll like it better; maybe I'll have a better experience at the school with my coworkers. But we all know that LaLa's poker face is nonexistent. My director patted me on the arm and reminded me (for the second time) that when Friday holidays come around, I have the potential for 5-day weekends if I ask the school to rearrange my classes a bit. So there's that. I smiled and insisted that I understand and it's fine - "está bien."

I think there's something to be said for accepting disappointment with a gracious attitude. Despite my brute facial honesty, I really do feel at peace with the schedule. Sure, a guaranteed Friday still sounds better, but what can I do? Then, as we walked out, Georgia let me know that with her schedule at her side gig, she's not sure which school schedule she prefers - she's conflicted, and asked whether I was really OK with the schedule. Ummm...what? I was surprised that she took the "better" schedule despite feeling lukewarm about it, but I supposed I'd be trying to set myself up in the best possible way if I were in her shoes, too. I smiled, told her I'll be fine, gave her my number and let her know she can contact me if she had second or third thoughts. No pasa nada.

A Taste of Madrid

gazpacho with a glass of tinto de verano

The easiest way to dive into Madrid, and probably any city, is to start eating! Find out what's good and go after it, right?! Across the country, Spain is known for many things: ham, olives, wine, gazpacho, seafood, and of course, tapas-style meals. I've had all these things, plus some unexpected other gems, but one thing in particular has surprised me more than anything: BREAD. Did I not do my homework, or is this carb obsession suspiciously missing from general information about Spanish cuisine? Seriously -- my lunch today, which was (shamefully) french fry based, was served with this basket of bread and teeny crunchy breadsticks.

wee little breads snuggled up next to big bread

Last week I received an appetizer of potato salad scooped onto a slice of bread. It's like nothing leaves the kitchen before passing the "Can this be put on bread?" test. Carbs on carbs on carbs, y'all.

Beyond this revelation, I've had some great meals and am developing some favorites. And like a good Millennial, I've taken pics of most of them. Below is a quick food tour thus far. ¡Buen provecho!

it's not a meal if olive oil isn't on the table

 A traditional Spanish breakfast is very light - café con leche and pan con tomate - a small baguette lightly toasted and served with tomato puree. Olive oil and salt to taste, and this is a tasty breakfast!

seafood tostadas

Mercado de San Miguel....Man, this place will spoil you! Everything I had here was delicious from pulpo (octopus) and bacalao on toast... to some sort of vermouth beverage (not sure what - I was ordering by picture) served with bright green olives... to a heavenly pastry called crunis - like a huge, amazing cream puff sandwich of bliss.

crunis

vermut de grifo

montaditos for days

At least two people in the States RAVED about eating at 100 Montaditos. Turns out that this is a fast-food chain with a menu of you guessed it, 100 small sandwiches (plus a couple salads and some fried side dishes). I was underwhelmed to say the least - this is kinda like the Cici's Pizza of Spanish sandwiches...not much character or taste, but a lot of bread. That's not to say I might not return when they're 2 for 1, though! Best montadito? Top left - an Oreo sandwich. Yes, you heard me. One little cookie wrapped in chocolate bread, served with whipped cream. A sandwich within a sandwich. It's existential.

raciones FTW

Now THIS is how you tapear (go eat tapas)! Ok, not really. These are raciones - large portions! And notice the empty bread bowl at the top of the picture...assimilation you can taste! Moving clockwise, we had gambas al ajillo, patatas bravas, orejas a la plancha and sepia a la plancha. Oh, what's all that? Shrimp in garlic oil, fried potatoes in a spicy tomato sauce (kills the Cafe BaBeReeBa version!), grilled ears and grilled cuttlefish. Did you catch that? Yep, the plate at the bottom of the pic is ears! A mountain of chewy, kinda gooey pig ear pieces...definitely an experience, and also very rich. My orientation roommate was an adventurous eater like me, so we enjoyed trying out a few new things! When in Spain, right?

eSpanish pizza

Pizza in Spain? Yeah, it happens. It's not always the best, though you'd think proximity to Italy might give folks a leg up. When you find a girlfriend who asks if you want to order half the pizza with anchovies, you say "yes, with garlic" and keep her!

never too much ham

 Curiosity killed the cat. I had to buy these chips to see how they tasted. In short, like ham. Like a mouthful of hickory-smoked, country, salty ham. I'm not sure why I was so shocked at the overwhelming hamminess of it all. Do you think these would stand a chance in the States? For the record, the cat died of hypertension. So salty. So hammy.

churros...they aight

Ah, the classic: chocolate con churros (and café con leche, duh). As much as you'll hear about churros being a common post-club snack or breakfast bite, I can't say I'll be having them again. The star is really the chocolate - even though it's made by the cup from a powder, it's thick, lightly sweet and generally yummy. Without it, the churro is just a greasy, salty dough stick. I'm not a big chocolate fan anyway, so I def don't need a fried vehicle to help me increase my consumption.



 
There you have it! That's a sample of my dining so far. I'm growing a little too fond of tinto de verano (red wine with a Sprite-ish soda) and as a result, am suffering from a touch of dehydration - I've hardly had water at meals since wine is always either cheap or included! You may have also noticed that vegetables are scarce. I'm working on it! I'm not sure where they're hiding on the menu, but I'm looking forward to cooking at home...now that I have one!! I'll fill you in on my new digs soon :)

Hasta!

My Journey to España

 Welp, I made it. I made it to Spain! Here I am, enjoying a quick café con leche on the sidewalk like a true Madrileña.  Well, kinda...she wouldn't take it para llevar (to go).

café con leche in Las Letras

I'm smiling because the sugar packets are SO big here. Because let me tell you...the journey to Spain was not pretty. It was ugly...

Except this part, which was great: I made the decision to attend my homegirl Tish's Bay-area beach wedding, despite it being on Friday the 13th just two days before I needed to be alert and ready for orientation in Madrid. Maybe those things should have given me pause, but it wasn't a question. Yes, it meant that I'd have to run from the reception to the airport in order to catch the last plane back east that night. Yes, I'd have to fly overnight. Yes, I'd spend just a few hours on the ground before boarding my flight to Europe. Tish is a SISTAGURL. This runs deep. She's been a great friend for more than a decade and her guy is fantastic, so I've hardly been more excited to witness a wedding! 

plus they had a bonfire...with s'mores!

It's a good thing I was so hype for the ceremony, because one sip into the reception, United Airlines called me and informed me that they canceled my last-plane-back-east-that-night flight. The only way I could get back to Chicago in time was to take a 6pm flight out. Did I mention that United called me at 5:16? I welled up into big, hot, angry, sad tears and trotted out of the reception. No goodbyes, no pic with the newlyweds, no signature cocktail.

delicious MishMash...one sip down

I got to the airport in time to board my 6pm flight, and then United proceeded to delay it...and delay it...and delay it until 8:30pm. I boarded my flight bleary-eyed, decidedly hangry, and trying to reach peace with the fact that I knew all along that I'd have to do whatever was necessary to get back to Chicago on time. Really coulda used that cocktail at that point, though.

After some uncharacteristically nasty run-ins with unsavory travelers, I arrived in Chicago. At a quarter to 5, I hopped the Blue Line and rode downtown. I struggled to stay awake to guard my bag and the following hours were a blur: frantic repacking, a quick catnap, and breakfast with girlfriends before I was headed back to O'Hare.

My AirBerlin flight was delayed a bit, but it wasn't long before we were hopping the pond. Unfortunately, our pilot didn't make up time in the air, and we arrived in Berlin just 10 minutes before my connecting flight to Madrid was scheduled to take off. The Tegel airport doesn't use jetbridges - instead, you deplane down the steps and chill on the tarmac for a bus to take you to your gate, which may or may not be 15 yards away. 

in Berlin, chillin' under the plane

Despite having a connecting flight on the same airline, I missed my flight after waiting for the third bus and moving slowly through customs. Blerrrrrg. My biggest fear for this trip: being stuck in a country where I can't speak the language. Luckily, Tegel has a handy 6-person, 6-step process for getting affairs back in order:

my bag is fly!

1. Rebooking: Find out about the Lufthansa flight in 3 minutes, then miss it while she calls to make sure that an announcement about flights to Munich doesn't apply to you. Get rebooked on an AirBerline flight that goes through Paris, departing 3 hours later.
2. Ticketing: Obtain a new boarding pass for the first leg of the new trip, not the second, which is on a different airline. Request, but do not collect voucher for lunch.
3. Baggage: File a claim for a lost bag. Wait. Whaaat? It's lost? It's LOST?!
4. Baggage Claim: Proceed to a permanently placed RV to claim "lost" bag from an attendant, who advised that the wait would be long since he was "lonely," until you whip out the pic of your spectacularly tacky luggage.
5. Baggage Check: Remove 2kg of items from your carryon luggage and put them back into the checked bag that was previously overweight by 2kg. Gain reassurance that your bag will go straight to Madrid - who needs Paris?!
6. Ticketing: Here we are again! Collect lunch voucher from new departmental friend. 

Simple. Now you're on your way!

lunch in Berlin

Five euros doesn't go far at the airport, but it put a dent in this lunch: the only thing I had the foggiest idea of what it might be, since I saw the word "sausage." Not really what I wanted to eat, but it was an upgrade on my first experience with German potato salad as a Girl Scout - it was traumatizing. 

I digress.

In Paris, I had 55 minutes to go through ticketing and security all over again, what with switching airlines and everything. Even with the security chick completely unpacking my carryon bag completely while continually attempting to speak to me in French, it seemed like I had plenty of time. Little did I know that moving from Terminal S to Terminal W at Paris Orly meant I'd be speedwalking a mile from the south building to the west building. Tram much, Orly? Sheesh. Thanks to my sweet language skills, I wasn't thrown off course by that tricky French spelling of "west": "ouest." I'm just sayin', does. that. start. with. a. W??

Feeling incredibly sweaty and stinky, I made it to my gate in time to hop in line. Less than three hours later, I made it to Madrid. And guess what? Madrid's got trams, yo! My tired legs thanked Madrid for being so considerate to a gal who'd been in transit for about 32 of the previous 36 hours. I waited anxiously to see my big, bright bag, but as the baggage claim area got more and more desolate, a shocking realization came to light: my bag was lost. And not like, German lost, but lost lost. I filed a claim with Iberia Airlines, but I didn't know my address in Madrid for delivery of my baggage. Surely I had printed my hotel information, but it was nowhere to be found. Where was my Excel spreadsheet at a time like this?! I promised to call with my contact information, but at that point I felt no confidence in the process.

Feeling dejected, I went over to the meeting point area to look for my CIEE shuttle. So you know what happened, right? Couldn't find the shuttle, so I had to spring for a $40E cab to the hotel. Ugh. After all my travel drama, I couldn't help but wonder whether this was an indication of things to come or if my persistently awful  travel luck that week was setting me up for a big win. I guess we'll see, huh? Personally, I'm going with the latter.

seeing where these Madrid streets take me