Sunday, Sunday

In Spain, Sunday really is a day of rest. The shops are closed and there's not many obligations. So after reading the paper (and understanding a word game in Galician, score!), I went with Lauren on a walk along the Río Miño, and over both the Roman and modern bridges. Although it's the first of December, the water was calm.

Thanksgiving in Galicia

Yesterday was Thanksgiving in America, but to Galicians it was a Thursday like any other. Except for a handful of Galicians who came over to a Thanksgiving dinner hosted by Lauren and me. The ironic part was even with the 6-hour time difference between here and home, we had our meal around the same time.

The day started at my teaching job. Don't we get off for American holidays? A few of the classes were having oral exams, and in gym class they told me "Congratulations," an attempted wish for a Happy Thanksgiving. Around 5:00 Lauren and I began the process of cooking. We've never cooked a bird alone before, let alone in Spain. The two chickens we got had a few little feathers and hairs on them, which Lauren diligently plucked for a time. She even tried burning them off, but eventually grew tired of the task and let it be. Aside from chicken (not turkey, pero da igual), we had stuffing, mashed potatoes, and corn. We were a bit concerned there wouldn't be enough, but we even had leftovers. For dessert was an impressive pumpkin pie by Lauren-- she had to buy a pumpkin and puree it the old-fashioned way, since canned pumpkin is not an option here-- and filloas, a crepe-like dessert, made by her roommate. I think we did America proud. ;)

Although 4 people had to sit on the couch to eat, I think it was a perfect number of guests. Nine of us squeezed around the table, but that made it cozier and Thanksgiving-like. We all went around the table saying what we were thankful for. Mostly everyone was grateful to be among such charming & fun company.  After dinner, we were entertained by Diego on the guitar, and some interesting attempts at singing. There were plenty of songs in Galician/Spanish, but we had to pull up the lyrics even for the natives. My 'assignment' was to memorize a song by Os Heredeiros da Crus, "Non quero nada de ti." I worked so hard on it, but still couldn't spit the words out fast enough. Better luck next time.

As a Spanish twist, most guests left by 1 AM, but two of my best friends stayed til 4:30 AM. Evidently we were enjoying each other's company.

Sunny day in Lugo, so I walked the entirety of the wall. And because I don't post nearly enough photos:

Subject is unrelated

Just some thoughts/anecdotes relevant to my time here:

• Spanish people do not eat on-the-go. My theory is that it would end up being a hassle if people ate while walking down the street, because everyone would have to say "buen provecho!" and "que aproveche" every 10 seconds. Here if someone is eating something of 'substance,' acquaintances, friends, and even strangers will tell you to enjoy it. Contrarily, in English this act is so uncommon, we don't even have a phrase for this--we just use the French bon apetit when necessary. 
• What does pity party mean to you? Perhaps eating an entire gallon of ice cream, while crying alone in your room. To our Spanish friends, it is what we would consider a normal night in: watching TV, surfing the net, eating junk food. This weekend we had a sort of girls' night/pity party which was extra pitiful due to our lack of internet. (But we have it at last!) We resorted to playing old-timey games such as Who Am I Thinking Of? And Name All 50 States. 
• Yesterday in class, one of my oldest students asked how to say vasos (cups/glasses). I said, "Glasses, like these" as I pointed to my glasses on my face. He replies, "Nonono, esas son gafas (the word for glasses on your face) quiero decir vasos" It was probably one of those you-had-to-be-there-to-find-the-humor moments, but another student laughed about it for 3 minutes. 
• And here's me working on some promos for Galicia/Spain
• Imagine a land where cheesecake actually tastes like cheese: GALICIA(or all of Spain?)
• Imagine a land where the passing lane is actually used solely for passing: GALICIA (Spain?)

More Magosto

Sometimes I feel bad for other auxiliares assigned in Galicia, because every day I'm more convinced that my instituto has the coolest and nicest teachers and staff. My coordinator in specific is mega-awesome, and we have certainly bonded just in the past month. Out of the entire staff, only three people have not had some sort of conversation explaining things to me.  It used to be four, but today I asked one the difference between bizcocho and torta. (In English I’d consider them both cakes, so it’s not worth explaining here) Oftentimes I don’t even have to ask a question— they just offer comments or cultural tidbits. Such lessons as “you can’t eat octopus without red wine or by yourself— that’s just depressing” or “Skip A Coruña because you can find that kind of city in America.”

On Wednesday to celebrate Magosto, most of the teachers stayed to have lunch together. There were potatoes and chorizo, accompanied by red wine and apple empanada for dessert.  I had announced that I don’t like chorizo, which almost seemed a horrifying concept. I offered to try it again, and to their relief and fascination, it wasn’t half bad this time. They thought I liked it, but more accurately I didn’t dislike it. After the meal we went outside where the kids were listening to techno music and later played traditional games, including musical chairs. Of course chestnuts were available, too (no, gracias). So this Magosto was a good chance for both kids and adults to relax and be autumnal. 

Magical Magosto

                I didn´t take any pictures, so all you get is words. Magosto is an autumnal celebration in Galicia which consists of gathering with friends to eat chestnuts. It’s not on a set day—and in fact next week I’ll celebrate Magosto at school—but Friday we celebrated with friends. There were about 15 of us: five foreigners and the rest Lucenses. Lauren and I knew mostly everyone from last weekend or earlier, as I feel we have been adopted by the coolest cuadrilla (group of friends) in Lugo. 

                Dinner was at someone’s house—and I mean a legit country home that reminded me of America. We had tortilla de patata, which was a real treat since I can’t make it myself and thus haven’t had it for a while. We also had Diego’s homemade beer, with labels that had the cartoon “Go Diego Go” on them.  Amusing. After the meal came the Magosto part—chestnuts roasted over a fire, in a wood-burning stove.  I don’t even like chestnuts, but I ate two anyway (which is the amount I contributed to the dinner, having collected two measly castañas the day before with one of my teachers). Someone collected 10 kilos in her yard, so there was plenty to go around and everyone had their own newspaper cone.

                Then the jam session began: one guitar, one percussionist using bottles, and a room full of Lucenses singing in Spanish and Galician. The best part was when I actually knew some of the lyrics! They sang two songs I recognized from the Heredeiros da Crus concert during San Froilán: ‘Eu quero josar’ and ‘Non quero nada de ti.’ It was delightful. Then they played some songs in English, thinking we’d know the lyrics but we didn’t. Except for ‘Just like Heaven,’ a classic in my own words. Unsurprisingly, the night left me feeling that I had found a place just like heaven.  (So cursi, yet so true)