It’s About Relationships: The Sound of Community

One afternoon, Andrew and I took the dogs out for a bit of a wander around some of the nooks and crannies of el Born – exploring for all of us.  I sat down on a bench in a little plaza that had a nice dirt area for kids and dogs to run amok and just closed my eyes.  I heard the usual, steady buzz of people talking…clusters of people – elderly klatches, young  smoking teens shooting the breeze, multi-generational clusters gathered at a picnic table or park bench…exchanging pleasantries, arguing about who-knows-what, laughing at a dog and child chasing each other.  All over the map.

This may sound mundane but I cannot recall this kind of scene happening very often in Seattle.  It is super common here, mostly in the late afternoon and early evening, for gatherings to happen. I don’t know what else to call them.  People stroll together and chat – they don’t rush everywhere.  They sit and talk without necessarily needing a transaction for motivation.  No matter which neighborhood you are in there is a clear sense of – community.  Some sort of connection.  Storekeepers regularly stand outside the door of their shop and exchange pleasantries with each other and folks passing by (of course you get the occasional aggressive salesman with a “hook” trying to pull you in for the latest deal, but that is the exception).  In the short time we have been in el Born, we already have community ‘friends’ – the local pizza lady…the baristas at the morning café spot…the vet around the corner who knows us and the dogs by name…the guy with the little dog who looks like Donovan.  Despite the waves of tourists flowing through the city now, there is still this undercurrent of familiarity that develops quickly if you are more than passing through.  I have no delusions that we will easily integrate as locals here – that is a known challenge ahead.  But I already feel part of a fabric  of life so different from where I have been before – it is amazing.

Eating and Drinking as National Pastime

OK – I have always thought that a “two martini lunch” was a bit early for my sensibilities to be drinking (I guess tons of businessmen would disagree with me as they close so many deals this way).  But – wow- it’s not unusual to see people here having a Cervesa with their breakfast!  It is said that beer and wine are cheaper than water in Spain not quite – but close!   A liter of mineral water is about 1.5EU…a decent bottle of white wine can be snagged for about 3EU.  You can even BYOB and fill up from a set of “choose your wine” spigots in the local grocery store.   Now with that kind of bargain and drink flowing freely, you might expect a lot of tipsy people running around.  Not so at all.   And it’s not about the money either – it’s about the culture of eating and drinking as, well, national pastimes.  From what I see, people socialize over coffee, do business and exchange perspectives over late and elongated lunches,  stop out mid-afternoon for some tea or a Cervesa with friends or colleagues, and conduct meetings or savor friendly conversation over hours-long late dinners.  I know it sounds like no work gets done, but somehow it must because despite the economic woes here, business does go on overall.  Admittedly the pace at which things happen is slower – much slower – than Stateside. But who are we to judge how fast things must move?

So, we are now accustomed to having dinner at around 9.30pm or later, after Andrew and I have finished calls to the West coast, and yes – some inexpensive wine or  beer for those who care are there as well.  When we go out we have yet to have a bad meal – the food is always fresh, the meal is never  ever rushed by a waiter trying to turn tables (here you have to specifically ask for “la cuenta” (the bill), it will never be brought to you before you ask for it),  and the variety of ambiances is endless.   I have started to shop for groceries for in-home meals everyday at the local produce markets, small specialty shops, and mini-grocery stores…each time is a small adventure in and of itself.   Perhaps by the time our stream of visitors starts I will have mastered paella!

Graffiti as Public Art

My first impression of Barcelona, aside from the magnificent architecture and rich variety of neighborhood “look and feels”, was that there must be a gaggle of gang activity here.  Graffiti abounds – everywhere.  In the old part of the city especially, but even in the newer more upscale areas.   It’s not gangs – it’s, well, public art.  Some is graphic with obscene connotations, but most of it truly is street art. Much of it shows up on the large and super ugly metal sliding doors that lock down most of the small retail stores here – and every bit of boisterous color and imagery pretties those up.  Spray-painted murals are common on the outer walls of park borders and school grounds, and you see tons of this free-form expression on local bars and club entrances that give clues to the type of clientele each attracts.  I had to get used to it and take all this at face value having been raised in LA where graffiti was the marking of Crips and Bloods territory.  Not here.  I ‘ll have to start taking some picture to share.

The Case of the Salted Bacalao

I am guessing that anyone who has jumped cultures has at least one story like this one…

Feeling culinarily (new word) ambitious a couple of weeks ago, I decided to buy some fish to make for dinner…bacalao – or cod fish – a fleshy white fish very popular here.  It is usually prepared either pan fried or sauteed, breaded or not, with a bit of olive oil and spices. Sounds good, no?  Well, wanting to “do as the locals do”, I went to the Boqueria – the huge farmers market on La Rambla that has the most amazing selection of just about anything you can think of, including fish.  I spotted a stall with a big array of different fish fillets that appeared frozen (but fresh frozen, of course – LOL) and selected one that the merchant suggested that was sort of mid-priced and “excellente” according to the purveyor.  Took the fillets home and popped them into the fridge to be cooked the next day.   At the time, Ruthie’s buddies from Seattle – Renee and Lauren – were visiting and Renee loves to cook, so I put her in charge of the bacalao feast.  The decision was made to saute  the fish gently in the olive oil and spices mentioned above – enter watering mouths.

As we were getting ready to sit down to eat, Renee called me over and told me that “there is something really weird about the fish…”  We both tasted it and UGH!  Ever pop a block of salt into your mouth????  Oy vey!   “I don’t know what I did wrong” Renee cried – and she is a good good cook.   Inedible.   No clue.   Thank goodness there were other good things to eat on the menu.

A few days later I was chatting with one of our new local friends, Luis, and told him the tale of the salty bacalao.  He started to laugh…did we not know that fish here is often “naturally preserved” in sea salt?  You don’t even need to refrigerate this fish when preserved this way.  BUT, before you cook it, you need to soak it in water overnight (or two nights even), changing the water a few times.  This draws the salt out of the fish and reconstitutes the lovely fleshy deliciousness of the fish.  Then you cook it.

Definitely a fishy story – and a cross-cultural faux pas not to be repeated.

Hasta luego!