“Good news guys!” Chris said when he arrived. “It’s going to
be nice weather tomorrow! Looks like you all picked a great weekend to be in
Barcelona.”
I hadn’t heard good news in regards to weather in a long
time.
We all gathered in the kitchen and headed out to the cooking
class. As we walked to the metro Chris asked, “Do you guys want churros for
breakfast?”
Seemed like a “duh” question to me.
“Um, yeah,” Ally said with a smile.
“If we have to,” I said sarcastically.
“Cool!” he said. “I’ll pick some up when I come get
everyone.”
We rode the metro to a station that was right by the
Columbus statue. Walking along the wharf, Chris led us to the restaurant. As we
entered, a woman came up and gave him a hug and a kiss. It wasn’t romantic in
anyway; I think it was just a customary greeting. The bar and restaurant were
crowded, but we were taken into a back room.
In the room, there were two tables (one set for four and one
for six). There was a miniature bar with several types of scotch and rum behind
it. On a separate table were trays of breads, meats, and diced vegetables.
First, we learned how to make five different types of tapas,
using the bread, potatos, meats, and vegetables. We had ham, chorizo, and
salami to work with as well as olives, onions, green peppers, and tomatoes.
“Spain does not do spicy,” the chef we were working with
told us. “If you want jalapeño or tabasco, go to Mexico. Spain does sweet flavors.”
After we made the five that he’d taught us to, we got to mix
and match with the left over ingredients to create our own tapas. All of the
flavors were great! I made notes on the recipes so I can try them when I get
back to the states.
The main dish that we learned to make was paella. This was
not quite as hands on, but the chef demonstrated every step of the process. I
had no idea what paella was going into the class, but I learned that it
basically means “Spanish rice.” Every region of Spain has a different type of
Paella. In Barcelona, seafood is the main ingredient.
This dish contained clams, mussels, prawns, and shrimp, as
well as a rainbow of diced vegetables, some white wine, and the much coveted
Spanish saffron. The final ingredient was the rice and some mixed peas.
“The difference between risotto and paella,” the chef explained,
“is that risotto you stir a lot and the rice become creamy. In paella, you want
the rice to be crunchy so you don’t stir it.”
The entire demonstration he kept talking about “When you
cook your paella…” At first, I worried there was going to be a test. Once I
figured out he was assuming we were going to try this at home, I felt a bit
better. I also knew there was no way I could ever pull this off on my own.
While the paella simmered in the pan, we went out to the
terrace to enjoy some drinks.
It was raining lightly outside, but the fresh air felt good.
Just as Chris had promised, the group was drinking nonstop sangria and the waitress
brought pitchers of it every 10 minutes. I was drinking coke but had to ask for
a refill when I wanted it.
After about 10 minutes, we went back inside. Gathering
around the minibar, the time came for our chef to teach us to make sangria.
Apparently, everyone else in the group had tried this before with varying
levels of success.
According to our professional, the ideal sangria recipe is
1/3 red wine, 1/3 orange juice, less than 1/3 lemonade, two spoonfuls of brown
sugar, and six seconds of both light and dark rum. For Barcelona sangria, the
diced fruit that is added last should be green apples and oranges. They all
took turns adding ingredients to make a few pitchers for dinner. I sat this one
out. Not liking wine, I figured wine mixed with hard alcohol was not in my pallet.
The smell burned my nose, I didn’t want to think about how it tasted.
When the Paella was finished cooking, we all sat down to
huge platefuls. It tasted amazing! Being Spanish food, it wasn’t spicy, but the
rich of flavor was absolutely explosive. The seafood tasted great, and none of
it gave me an allergic reaction. The first prawn that I had to decapitate was a
bit of a disturbing and frustrating experience, but once I got the hang of it,
they too tasted amazing.
As we ate, we noticed the music in the bar. The first song
we recognized was “The Macarena.” I had to laugh. We were listening to an
American recording of a fake-Mexican folk song in a Spanish bar. If that isn’t
diversity, I don’t know what is. Apparently, the entire playlist was 90’s
throwback songs with tunes like “Mmmbop” and “Bye, Bye, Bye.” We all laughed as
we recognized each one.
I finished my entire first portion and Chris took my plate
to get me a second one. It was just as large as the first, and I felt bad for
not being able to finish it all. It tasted so good!
After dinner, we sat around talking for a while. Being
spread out around the room, different pockets of conversation would form and
then stop. As the volume of the conversation got louder, I made jokes about “too
much sangria.” Everyone laughed and said the joke was on me for drinking six
cokes at 11:00 at night.
After a while I checked my watch and saw that it was well
after midnight. Amy asked when we were going to head out, and everyone agreed
we were ready. Outside, the girls asked about a good bar they could go to. Chris
dropped them off at a shot bar that was famous for having 650 different shots.
The four of them, along with Naomi and Austin ducked in, while Mike and his
friend Sean took off into town, and Amy, Kaitlin, and I headed home.
“Make sure some gets the Monica Lewinski shot,” Chris told
the girls as we headed to the metro. They promised they would.
As we walked along, Chris asked how we liked it and all
three of said it was a great evening. Being from England he and Amy talked a
bit about her time there and he asked us about travelling Europe.
“Do you all know any other languages?” he asked.
I knew a bit of Spanish. Kaitlin knew a bit of French.
“It seems like American’s are real shy about speaking other languages,”
he said. “I’ve noticed that even when they know them, they normally don’t speak
them.”
“I’m always afraid of making a mistake or saying something
stupid,” I said. “I’ve been taking Into to Czech for the last two months, but I’m
terrified to try it out in public.”
“You’ve just got to not give a shit or you’re never going to
get anywhere,” Chris said.
I felt like that was probably pretty solid advice for life
actually. I’d noticed that all the times I held back because I was worried
about looking foolish had only resulted in making me miss out on experiences
and relationships.
Chris dropped us at the metro and headed to his flat. We
rode the train back to the hostel, talking about the day and our lives back
home. When we got back, Amy went straight to bed, while Kaitlin read her Kindle,
and I took a shower. As I did, I totally sliced my face with the razor and
couldn’t get the little trickle of blood to stop.
Walking back into the room with wads of toilet paper on my chin,
I sat on the edge of my bunk talking with Kaitlin for a while. She made the
comment in regards to my face that she’s always found blood interesting.
“Me too,” I admitted. “I wanted to go to med school at one
time. I just didn’t want to be a doctor.”
“I hear you,” she said. “I’m a political science major now
and I don’t know what I want to do.”
“That’s kind of how I feel about business,” I said.
“Have you worked in business at all?” she asked.
I explained the work I did for the boy scouts last year. “I
also had a great job at a SCUBA shop this past summer,” I said.
“Oh wow!” she said. “I SCUBA dive. Or at least I did. It is
awesome!”
We talked SCUBA for awhile before deciding to head to bed.
My chin had clotted and I laid down. She went to turn off the light, but as she
did, Bridget came in.
“Don’t worry guys,” Bridget said as she rummaged through her
stuff. “I’ll get it.” I journalled for a bit while she sorted through her bag. After
she changed, she flipped off the light. Within minutes, I was out of it and
sound asleep.
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