Cold Custard

Apologies for the slightly tardy update – I naively thought that internet access might be free in a hotel. I’ve learned that lesson!

So I asked about how to deal with sleazy Spanish men. Responses were as varied as a box of Quality Streets:

“they’re not dangerous, if you want to talk, talk, but just don’t tell them your phone number or where you live the first time you meet them.”

“avoid eye contact and walk on by”

“don’t say anything at all – saying something shows you’re interested”

“Spanish men just want one thing”

“if they’re Spanish, it’s ok. If they’re Moroccon, run.”

“stick to places where there are lots of people, but don’t stray off the beaten track alone.”

Which leaves me in just about the same position as I was before. It looks like I’m going to be playing the dumb foreigner for 6 months. It frustrates me though. I want to feel that I can explore new places on my own – I don’t want to have to rely on finding someone to go with me – but I don’t really feel comfortable on my own anywhere that’s not Touristville. And the staring and the catcalling makes me feel… violated, somehow. A little bit dirty. It angers me that women – of every age and type – are objectified so much, and that it’s considered a cultural norm. I never appreciated the comparative reticence of The British Man enough!

It is with relief that I have started to fall into the routine of the working day. I have begun to feel confident in some aspects of my work, and my colleagues seem confident enough in me to leave me to it. In the afternoons I’m tasked with looking at the daily orders from the Spanish supermarkets whom we supply and calculating how many pallets of goods need to be shipped to each supermarket from the different warehouses, entering this information into a spreadsheet, and letting the hauliers and warehouses know. Once the UK export business has really revved up for the winter, my mornings will be occupied with chasing up problems in the UK with missing goods and late lorries… that will come in a few weeks. It’s amazing how much thought, preparation and work there is behind each lorry on the motorway… and behind each lettuce on the shelves of ASDA!

Lunch in Spain is by far the biggest meal of the day, and it seems to be fairly normal to go out for it. Many restaurants offer lunch menus for between €7.50 and €10, which include a drink, bread, a starter, a main, a pudding and a coffee. I’m yet to get my head around consuming so much in the middle of the day, especially when I have to go back and work after it. Fighting the well-fed snoozy feeling is a challenge! This week my foodie discoveries were Spanish black pudding (which have a much looser consistency than the British varieties, without the lumps of fat and oats, slightly sweet, slightly salty and seasoned with cinnamon), chips with lime juice (seriously, it works!), and the Spanish dessert “Natillas”. Natillas is a dish of cold vanilla custard, with a soggy digestive-like biscuit set into it, sprinkled with cinnamon. I actually rather enjoyed it (I think I’d enjoy anything with cinnamon…), but it amuses me that such an unappetising sounding pud seems to appear on every menu!

Still on the foodie track, I was touched this week to arrive into work to find a pack of porridge oats on my desk from one of my colleages. I’d mentioned last week that I was a porridge girl, and that I’d been surprised not to find oats in any of the supermarkets… but apparently he knew where to find some. So now, if I’m feeling in need of a little breakfast TLC, I can whip up a bowl of warm, yummy comfort. The people in my office are very welcoming. On Wednesday evening I went out to a bar with one of the girls from the finance department, and we spoke in Spanglish – that is, I spoke Spanish and she spoke English, occasionally correcting each other – and it was really good fun (that is, once I got over the embarrassment of having to let her parallel park my car. I’ve only parallel parked a car correctly once – it was in my driving test, and it was a complete fluke. I spent most of my free time on Thursday practicing. I still can’t do it!). It made me feel like I have a friend here, and that’s a really good feeling.

On Friday I finished work a little early at 6, drove to the airport, and by 10 I was back in Leeds Bradford airport, ready for a week in the UK. It seems odd to have only been in my new job for 2 weeks before coming back, but Cinderella had a ball to go to! Well, and a training course, and 2 days in my company’s UK office… I’ll be meeting the other 6 graduates who are being trained up by my employer at the same time as me and “bonding” with them over a night of food, wine and dancing, and a few days of theoretical training. I’ll also get to know some of my colleagues from the UK office – the ones whose names I see on emails and hear over the phone – I’m looking forward to putting names to faces. But more on the week to come next weekend!

Hasta Luego