You Can't Open a Can with a Nutcracker

In case you were wondering, it's been 70-80 degrees out during the day this week.  I don't think this is real life.

These past few weeks have been all about adventuring in Sevilla, which has been fabulous.  Adventures included: exploring Ronda with JYS, trying to go hiking, tapa - hopping,  and venturing into the frightening land of my host mom's kitchen to bake a pie on the one day that Sevilla succeeded in tricking us into believing it was fall.  This past weekend we were all vaguely haunted by the fact that exam week is this week (one exam  Monday, two exams + 1 essay today) but when Marie and I attempted to engage our brains and go to the public library for a little bit on Saturday it was already closed.  And closed on Sunday.  And the university library is closed all weekend.  So as you can see we live in a really academic environment.

Also, this past Thursday we didn't have school because there was a student strike.  I only have one class Tuesday/Thursdays, and on Tuesday our teacher gave us the choice of having class or not having class.  He said that if we wanted to have class, since it was the class before the exam, he would come, but just so we knew there was a chance that a) we wouldn't be able to get to school because of the blockade and b) if we made it to our room there was a chance it would be invaded by screaming protesters and c) that the students would probably hate us for not supporting their cause.  Which is still ambiguous.  Needless to say, we slept in on Thursday.

Ronda

Way back two weekends ago when we didn't have a school-related care in the world, JYS took us to Ronda.  Help me, Ronda, help help me, Ronda. Ronda is a mountain town situated on both sides of a very deep ravine about two hours outside of Sevilla. During the bus ride there I was only briefly awake due to having slept barely at all the night before because of a directionless 4 am bike ride home from a dance club with Marie and Emily during which we went so far out of the way that we discovered the outside wall of the old city that no one had even known existed.  I thought it was really cool at the time. Everyone else thought I was weird.  Anyway, during the the time that I was awake on the bus, I realized that, surprise! there are some big mountains really close to Sevilla!  Who knew!?  Ronda is a very old town built right in the middle of this gorgeous mountain range.  We explored the city, the plaza de toros, and both the old Roman bridge and the newer neoclassical bridge traversing the deep ravine.  Despite my fear of heights I did manage to peer over the edge of the ravine. There was a wee little river running along the bottom, with flocks of dark birds perching on the rocky ledges below the houses, which appeared to be on the point of toppling into the ravine.  I can't think of a scarier place to live.


We were so excited about finally seeing mountains / nature / anything green that Marie, Reed, Marissa, Rachel and I decided to go hiking the next day.  Which proved to be slightly more difficult than we had anticipated.  There was distressingly little information about local hikes, despite the proximity of the sierra norte.  There were also distressingly few buses, so we weren't able to leave until 1:30 pm. Which gave Marie, Reed and I plenty of time to make the most fabulous bocadillos (Spanish sandwiches) you could ever want.  Think turkey, brie, avocados, red peppers and mustard on a baguette.  We were weirdly excited to be making our own food for the first time basically since we've been here. #homestayproblems. But not actually a problem because Marta's food is awesome. Speaking of which, here's a pic of one of my favorite dishes, col con garbanzos. Which is cabbage with garbanzos.  I'm not even kidding, I like it so much that I braved the awkwardness of taking a picture of my food at lunch in order to share my newfound cabbage-joy.

Back to hiking.  Our bus dropped us off about an hour later in a tiny little town at the foot of the sierra norte.  We awkwardly paraded back and forth along the main street in front of the groups of seated elderly folks at the saloon-style bars while we debated where we would be if we were a hiking trail.  I voted the direction of the mountains.  This turned out to be wrong, according to one of the bartenders, who we finally asked. He pointed in the opposite direction, so instead of heading up into the forested mountains, we went and found a trail leading through what was basically someone's livestock pasture. It was like my gastronomoía class had sprung to life, complete with acres of olive orchard, every kind of farm animal and acorn-laden oak trees (the food of the famous Iberian pigs, who remained mysteriously in hiding).  Despite being surrounded by mountains, our "hike" led us meanderingly through the flat, dusty pastures of this Spanish campo.  We didn't mind though, we were all just happy to be finally out of the city and away from the odors of cars, dumpsters, cigarettes and fish.




This past weekend, Marie and I decided to treat ourselves to a night out with... ourselves.  Perks of having a great roommate.  Our ingenious idea, inspired by our host dad, Juan Luis, was to tapa-hop.  Because why would you pick one awesome Spanish tapas restaurant when you could have many! We bounced from place to place, ordering a wide variety of copas and tapas to satisfy our cravings for the food Marta doesn't make.  Dad - I ate a squid with tentacles.  I hope you're proud.

To add to the food themed weekend, we decided to bake a pie.  Because one of the saddest parts about being abroad fall quarter is missing Thanksgiving.  Which, true, is still a month away, but celebrating early never hurt anybody.  After getting permission from Marta to use the sacred grounds of the kitchen, we headed off to the tiny American food store nearby to buy canned pumpkin. Which, thankfully, they had.  Along with a funny mix of semi-American products including USA themed utensils and decorations, Frontera salsa, granola, Betty crocker box cakes, jumbo marshmallows and root beer. Back at home, we ambitiously set about crafting our own homemade crusts and making a floury mess of the kitchen which we luckily managed to clean up before Marta got home.  The biggest hiccup in our Barefoot Contessa afternoon came when we had to open the pumpkin cans.  An easy feat, you would think. However, you have probably not tried to open a can without a can opener.  We found a strange, roundish metal object in the drawer with some promising looking sharp edges and spent 20 minutes trying to finagle a way to pierce the top of the can, before giving in and asking Borja (who was watching soccer in the living room) for help.  The promising looking metal thing turned out to be a nutcracker. Which explained the struggle, but did nothing to improve our baking-in-a-foreign-country confidence.  After many hours of making ice water, refrigerating dough, kneading, scrubbing, finally finding an old-school rusty can opener, mixing, converting cups and tablespoons to millileters, mixing and realizing we had bought the wrong type of sugar and using it anyway, the pies were in the oven creating the most glorious smell.

the oldest-school can opener

notice our fake potted plants

And it was a hit!! Even extra-picky Juan Luis loved it, despite saying he was scared to try tarta de calabaza after the cooking adventures of a previous American student.

is it Thanksgiving yet? 

Homemade crust with walnuts on top, for a twist.  A little bit of home all the way across the ocean.  We brought the other pie over to Marta's parents and Reed and Donald next door.  Well, actually we only brought half of the second pie because Marta and Juan Luis liked it too much.

PS. Marie and I have been crafting our Halloween costumes all night.  In the style of the time I dressed up as the ring from Lord of the Rings with a giant yellow inner-tube.  Get excited.