Can you say "fried baby eel?"

The Spanish eating schedule is an enigma to me. Everyone knows that you're starving after a whole night of not eating, and need to rev up your engine with a hearty breakfast, right? Well in Spain, most people only eat a piece of toast and a cup of coffee to hold them over until 2 PM, when everyone goes home from school or work to eat the biggest meal of the day with their family. I'm somewhat of a rebel, if you will, because my host mom lets me pour my own cereal in the morning, which I take full advantage of. I'm like a little squirrel storing my food away for the long winter (aka 6 hours of fasting). We have this crazy-good chocolate cereal filled with actual chocolate, and delicious granola with dried fruit in it. Who knew eating dessert for breakfast could be so satisfying? At 2:30 we eat lunch; my host mom's an excellent cook, but she also must think we are squirrels hoarding food for the frosty winter, because she gives us gigantic portions. The other night she made us chicken lasagna AND bread AND giant baked potatoes AND apples... I don't like wasting food, but it's way too much! We try to tell her, but she always just tells us to eat more! I like most of the things she makes: lots of soups, delicious melon, pizza, tortilla espanol (potato, egg, and onion). But Spaniards eat a lot of fried food, which doesn't sit well with me. The other day Carmen brought out fried baby eel- you could actually see the little black eyes. Her and Paco said it was a delicacy, so of course I had to be polite and try it. As a rule, I usually don't eat anything with eyes- it was a big step for me :) Dinner (which isn't quite as big) is usually 9:30 PM, but it makes sense because most people go out with their friends around 10 or 10:30 PM to bars or the park or wherever.

On a Friday night, Tim and I decided to go for a walk around 11 PM. We went to a plaza which turns into the high school hang-out zone after dark. It was so much fun people watching, although I kind-of felt like I was spying. Wherever you are in the world, high schoolers are high schoolers. It was amusing to watch the girls dressed in their heels and short skirts greet the boys, and stand there in a circle with their friends. Tim and I suspected that it must be the their designated meeting place before heading to a discoteca (dance club) or bar (the drinking age is 16 here). The night before, we had taken a walk around midnight and sat down on a bench in a different plaza. There was literally a gang of about 25 cats sauntering around the plaza- it was crazy! Even crazier was the fact that there were still PEOPLE in the plaza... and kids playing on the playground! It's a different world here...

Another night we went out to Mexican food with a group from our program- the only thing missing was Mexicans (all the waiters and cooks were Spanish!) Maybe that's why it was so expensive. There was a group of Spaniards our age in the restaurant, who were saying behind our backs "F-ing tourists!" in Spanish.... I really don't know why some Spaniards hate Americans so much. We weren't being noisy or obnoxious, we were simply eating dinner. Sometimes it's hard to feel welcome in Granada, but it just gives me more motivation to learn Spanish, since I don't want to be viewed as an ignorant, monolingual tourist. But since I'm blonde, I'm always going to stick out here no matter what. It's odd to go from being the majority in Southern California where everyone is blonde, to being the minority in Spain. So far, though, it hasn't given me too much trouble.