And what about the sausage?

I had a very Jonathan Safran Foer moment earlier this week.

I was eating lunch with Paqui and Jose after class. Jose (my homestay dad) always points at food and tells me the name of it, even if I already know. It’s cute. He had just pointed out to me that Spain was Europe’s #1 producer of oils (olive, sunflower, etc), and assured me that the oil used in preparing my meal was completely vegetarian. So imagine my surprise when I found what looked like a brain or an eye in on my plate. Mixed in with my pasta and vegetables was something definitely…. animal. So I asked.

“Qué es esto?”

Paqui responded with a word I wasn’t familiar with. When I indicated that I was confused she used another word to describe it. “Marisco.” Uh oh. Not good. Not only are mariscos shellfish and therefore, by my definition if not by the Spanish, an ANIMAL, but I am also allergic to shellfish.

Whoops.

I tried to clarify the definition of “vegetariana” to my family. The entire situation was so Everything Is Illuminated. Think, in a strong Ukrainian accent, “And what about the sausage??”

I told them no meat, no fish, no ham, no shellfish, no animals. “Nada con una cabeza,” I said. To which Paqui responded, “Pero atún en una lata no tiene una cabeza.” Wow. Really?

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It is also noteworthy to mention that before I left the States, when I thought I was going to get a chance to go to Africa, I consulted a friend about what to wear in Morocco. The heat, from what I’ve heard, is unbearable, yet Muslim women are still required to stay covered. I’m generally a modest gal (anyone hear remember the “the Lord wants us to be chaste” joke?), but probably not by Muslim standards. I didn’t want to offend anyone or get offered employment in an African brothel, but I also didn’t want to pass out from heat exhaustion in the middle of the desert… and wake up in an African brothel.

My friend’s solution: Hammer pants.

Hammer Pants?

If you’re like me, you thought the fashion police outlawed these long before the turn of the century. Think again, folks. Hammer pants are EVERYWHERE in Andalucía, and get this – they’re actually cute. And practical. I’ve considered buying some on several occasions, but every time I come across a cute pair in a tienda, “Can’t Touch This” starts to play in my head, and I immediately back away with a mixture of amusement and discomfort. I guess that makes Hammer pants kind of like a racist joke, and in a way, I guess they are. Sorry, M.C.

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I can’t believe that today is my last day in Vejer. It’s all been so surreal. Two weeks went by too fast. From the tiniest of the whitewashed alleyways to wide open Mediterranean coast, I’ve really enjoyed taking in every second of it. If you get a chance to come here, please do. But while you’re at it, do me a favor, and don’t tell anyone about it. I’d like to keep it our little secret. The less American tourists here, the better.

In the spirit of last year’s Mexico posts, how about a list of things I’ll miss about Vejer de la Frontera:
-The sunsets.
-All of the Spaniards walking around exclaiming, “Que calor!”
-The cute, little, old Spanish men that meet at the same bench on La Corredera every afternoon to gossip.
-Hearing three different churches’ bells ring the hour at once.
-Gazpacho. Mmmm…. Gazpacho.
-Not having to rely on fossil fuels.

Things I won’t miss:
-Trying to fall asleep when my room is 87 degrees.
-Ice cold showers when I wake up before Paqui lights the pilot light.
-Showing up to school soaked in sweat because it’s HOT and I had to ascend a hill as tall as the Empire State Building to get there (Because you haven’t been here, you can dispute my exaggeration! The truth is, I don’t get winded on the hill anymore. Yay!).
-This creepy doll hanging in the corner of my room.



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The next time you hear from me… I’m not sure where I’ll be. My bus leaves Vejer tonight at 7 PM. I’ll have a couple of hours in Cadiz before heading to Madrid, where I’m supposed to meet Kelsey at 8 AM. We plan to hop a train to Barcelona around 3 PM, but considering my luck with travel plans thus far, we’ll see how that goes. Perhaps, I’ll be in the south of France the next time I have enough time and reliable Internet access to compose a blog. We’ll see. In the meantime, there are some new pictures on my flickr.