Fighting Homesickness

Konnichi wa everyone!

I hope this entry finds you well and worry-free.  Here? Not only did we reach the halfway marker of our study abroad but we are in the thick of midterm season here at TUJ.  So, needless to say, things are starting to get a bit hectic around here.  I cannot believe that we are at this point already though! How did time move so quickly?  It seems like only yesterday that I was landing in Narita Airport.  I hope the rest of the term will go slowly so I can enjoy every minute. I only have a few more months left in Japan and I am already feeling sad about my future departure.  On the other hand, having been here for almost 2 months, I am beginning to feel a bit homesick.

Of course, I miss my family and friends back home but one of the biggest things I have been missing is FOOD! Japanese food is delicious, do not get me wrong.  However, there are those little things from back home that I have been craving for weeks now.  To ward off homesickness, me and my friends have made a point of it to find (or make!) the food from home that we are missing the most.  This past week, my friend Kelly and I went on a mission to find burritos.  It is so crazy, because back home, I do not even like burritos!  However, it was the little slice of American-esque life for a day that cheered us up.

A burrito made in Japan! Who would have thought...

Another way that I have been warding off any terrible home sick-ness, besides talking to friends and family back home, is to really just have some time to myself.  Living in a dorm with 40 other people, getting squashed in a crowded train going to school, getting squashed in a crowded train coming home…there is always something going on! But taking the time to recharge and just be alone has been one of the most beneficial things for me.  It allows me to sort through my thoughts and just have some quiet for once.

Once I am done being by myself, surrounding myself with new friends has made my time here so much more enjoyable. We like to go shopping, talk about life back in the US, just anything interesting that happened during the day, and go to a Japanese favorite… Purikura.  Now, taking silly pictures in a photobooth may not fight off the blues for everyone, but it is a nice place to just laugh and document a day out with friends. Together, you can decorate them however you want!

I do not mean to get sappy here, but being here has definitely made me appreciate my family and friends back home as well as the little luxuries that I take for granted some times…like burritos. Even if I do miss home from time to time, I will surely make the best of the time I have left here.  Until next time!

My Parents in Rome!

This past week, I had the pleasure of having my parents visit me in Rome! Long awaiting their arrival, I had many activities planned for them. They have visited Rome in the past, but I wanted to show them the city from a different point of view- MY point of view.

I no longer consider myself a tourist in Rome, since I have now been living here for almost seven weeks. However, when I was with my parents, it was hard to not appear as one. Spending time with them allowed me to experience Rome in two different perspectives: through my parents’ eyes as tourists, and as a growing member of the Roman community.

I understood that tourists have difficulty communicating. In fact, there is a stereotype that Americans expect everyone to know and speak English, which is, of course, not the case. When I first arrived in Rome, I knew very little Italian, but I used it anyway. I did not want to seem ignorant, and I wanted to learn the language. The first night I went out to dinner with my parents, they ordered everything in English. Afterwards, I kindly explained to them that next time they should try to order in Italian. I began to teach them simple phrases, like “where is the bathroom?” and “the check, please.” This was just one small step closer to making my parents feel a little more immersed in the Italian culture.

While my parents were visiting, I was very eager to teach them some Italian customs. For example, one night we ordered some delicious pizza, and my parents’ first instinct was to cut it into slices and pick it up and eat it by holding the crust. I told them that it was customary to eat pizza with a knife and a fork, and to cut it as you eat. Also, I taught my parents how to use the Metro. By doing this, I was able to better orient my parents with the layout of Rome. Instead of just taking a taxi everywhere they went, they began to familiarize themselves with the city and learn their way around. That way they could see and experience even more of Rome!

The weather this past week was beautiful, so my parents and I took advantage of spending time outside. We did a lot of walking, and my parents had many questions. I was able to explain what different monuments were, who built them and how old they were. I showed them Temple, the Residence, and the many places where I shop and eat. I was able to give them a good idea of what my life is like in Rome!

I had such an amazing time with my mom and dad. I was definitely spoiled- we went out for dinner every night! We went on a tour of the Colosseum and Forum, the Catacombs of St. Agnes and St. Priscilla, and we got to experience Carnival in its height. I was so happy that my parents traveled so far to come see me- so in return, I gave them the best Roman experience that I possibly could.

Barcelona: “There are people in Tuttleman right now.”

Trying to describe Barcelona is almost impossible at this point. It has so many distinctive neighborhoods that there is no all-encompassing description of this darkly glamorous and urbane monster.  Its immensity is hard to imagine despite our many attempts to capture it with a panoramic shot.  Barcelona has an obvious liberal and politically active air, a diverse youth culture, pink/blue/green/blonde! hair, all tones of skin color, and the kinds of quirks that I live for.  It feels FREE.  I even saw the first example of a Desigual design being worn, and it wasn’t as bad as it looked in stores. And, it definitely doesn’t hurt that the city is hugged by shore, mountains, and plains.

Ahhhh, perfect.

Each neighborhood has a stark style, thus making it easy to distinguish once you have crossed from one to the next—though, there really is no way to accurately compare Barcelona with New York.  Where Madrid is a city of Spaniards, Barcelona belongs to all of Europe.  It doesn’t have the typical Spanish flair, as felt in Madrid.  In fact, I don’t think I saw any ham at all.  On the downside, this means that there was little to no opportunity to actually use Spanish. Another translation issue was certainly the fact that most immediate citizens of Barcelona consider their first language to be Catalán.  Catalán was used more prevalently than Castellano, and so it was much like being in a separate country entirely.  It sounds like and appears to be a meshing of Spanish and French. The abandonment of Spanish practice was a negligible sacrifice for a week in Barcelona.

The enormous underground metro system is highly efficient, running every three minutes to every location in the city.  Though it generally closes at 12, weekends it runs through the night.  The green line, which carries tourists to most of the well-known sites, is plagued by pickpockets. We witnessed this firsthand on our first ride from the airport to the city, though at least I had been doubtful of the high crime rate the people of our safe little haven Oviedo had told me about.  Exiting the metro, it is interesting to see the stars in the sky.  Despite the bright lights, the sky is so void of clouds that every star glimmers in a way that I have never before seen in a city.

We exited the metro at the Lesseps stop in the Gracia neighborhood, where our apartment was located.  This apartment was found through family rentals, which offers privacy and comparative luxury for lower prices than those found in hostels in major cities.  We fit 8 people into a spacious apartment with a fully-equipped kitchen, 3 bedrooms, leather couch, and outdoor pool. Even more wonderful was that it was a 10-minute (vertical) walk to Gaudi’s Parc Guell.

Parc Guell is known for housing a hippie community and also some of the Okupa (Occupy) movement, which originated in Barcelona months before those in other locations.  Parc Guell is the product of creative genius Antoni Gaudi, whose projects are a definitive aspect of the Barcelona style and infest most tourist shops with postcards.  Gaudi plays with neoclassical and gothic elements while adding what seems to be a spacey and hallucinogenic twist.  The park’s structures stretch out of caves, melt and drip, spiral, and spout water.  We came here often in order to hear guitar music and watch the activity.

I was also able to meet up with mi amiga mejor Julia Freedman, who is directly enrolled in la Universidad de Pompeu Fabra.  We hiked up to the art museum, which offered a great view of the city.  Behind is Mont Juic (Mountain of the Jews), the location of the 1992 summer Olympics–this event worked to essentially revitalize and reconstruct the city into an international center.  It offered plazas with an extremely clean design, white and lined by neatly pruned shrubs.  Barcelona is a prime example of the effects of hosting an event like the Olympics, as it completely transformed the fortunes of the city.

When you turn the corner from the Sagrada Familia metro stop, the first feeling may be confusion.  And then you spy the massive vision out of the corner of your eye.  And then you gasp.  Some people even scream. The church is a daunting and dark vision.  After writing a 15 page research paper on its architecture last semester, it was really humbling to sit in its shadow.  One of my favorite activities was watching mouths drop as visitors enter and look up.  And receiving 2.5 million visitors a year, I am positive that each makes about the same shocked face.  The detail is some of the most incredible and heartbreaking work I have ever witnessed.  You can spend hours outside without actually seeing or believing all of Gaudi’s intricate and yet unfinished masterpiece (luckily, for enthusiasts, that is how long the line generally lasts). Student discount for 11 euro and 3 euro ride to the top.  Colorful mosaic windows span the building with alternating color schemes.  After 120 years of continuous construction, it has not yet materialized into Gaudi’s ultimate dream.

The tourist walkway Las Ramblas was overwhelming in terms of claustrophobia and harassment by those attempting to peddle paella, live turtles, Catalan cream, and Barcelona FC scarves.  I found it to be underwhelming in terms of fun.  La Boqueria is a little gem to the side of Las Ramblas, an enormous market containing some incredible fresh fruit smoothies, live crabs and lobsters, and peanut butter/hot sauce/Goya/all the other things you miss by now.  By night, it is clogged by drunks, prostitutes, and McDonald’s clientele.  The nearby Placa Reial/Plaza Real holds a 20’s style lounge bar, a jazz club, and flamenco site, but there are so many other options for nightlife that the area is avoidable.

Barcenoleta is the neighborhood containing the man-made beach, boardwalk, extensive bike lanes, yachts, paella restaurants, gelato, and live music.  The band Gadjo, was a particularly interesting performance, with the combination of brass, a standing bass, and an accordian.  And though we were not able to catch their concert in La Sala Monasterio later that night, we walked away with a CD.  We spent an entire day in this area, though it was not quite warm enough to shed layers or swim.

Sunday we visited the Picasso Museum, embedded in the antique and truly charming Born neighborhood.  It has a very classic European feel, the only neighborhood in which it is legal to hang laundry from the verandas.  The museum offers free admission Sundays nights, for which we were incredibly grateful after experiencing a few days of inflated Barcelona prices.  It was interesting to see the evolution of Picasso’s work throughout his long lifetime, which spanned almost the entirety of the 20^th century.  Born in Malaga, Picasso lived in Galicia, Paris, Nima, and Barcelona, which influenced his radical style shifts.  I was most interested by his ceramic urn work, which I had never seen before.  But surely the highlight is the grand finale, in which he plays with Velazquez’ Las Melinas (see below, and imagine a room filled with others).

We opted to celebrate two birthdays and perfect weather with Budget Bikes, a three hour personalized bike tour throughout the city.  Sometimes, there is nothing like blue skies and bike lanes.  Because Barcelona is fairly flat with wide streets and lined with bike lanes, it is the ideal biking city.  Without this tour, there are so many crevices we would have overlooked.  I was quickly entranced by the alleys of the beautiful Born neighborhood.  I even fell off at one point after colliding with a pole because I could not stop looking up and around at all of the beautiful apartments and specialty boutiques.  Many utilize the city’s bike rental system, which I have only seen elsewhere in Montreal.  Most streets carry a rack of pristine red rental bikes which tend to be inexpensive and can be locked and returned in any of the infinite locations.

Inspired by our own tour guide Rick Steves, I have created my own top 5:

1. La Sagrada Familia

2. Bike Tour of Old City

3. Bo De B-cheap eats in Barconleta

4. Teatro Apolo-Nasty Mondays-alternative dance club-despite a steep cover it was my favorite night out in Spain thus far.

5. Dressing up for Carnaval…and realizing that we were the only ones who did so

Go to Barcelona.

Una Montaña Rusa / A Rollercoaster

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to do much for Carnaval. I went to Avilés for a little bit Saturday night, but I’ve been sick for a few weeks and couldn’t do much this weekend. Something else has been going on for a few weeks too.

We were advised that we might experience some ups and downs while studying abroad. I’ve had a few small ones since being here, but I hit my lowest low this past weekend. It probably started a few weeks ago and went downhill since, but I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out what was wrong – I wasn’t doing anything, including speaking Spanish. I had gotten into the habit of staying home if I didn’t have anything to do. I wasn’t exploring the city, asking other people to go out and do things or traveling a whole lot. Why?! I’ll get to that later, but what I’ll say now is that it wasn’t working.

The worst part is that I wasn’t even speaking a lot of Spanish, which surprised me because the language is the main reason I came to Oviedo. I was pretty much only saying what was necessary to my host family (¿Qué tal?, estoy bien, me voy para la cama, hasta luego, etc.) and not really making conversation like I had been during my first few weeks here. I was even speaking almost exclusively English with all of the other Temple students I came with, something I swore to myself before leaving that I would not do. I have a Tándem partner too, but we’ve only been meeting once or twice a week for an hour or so.

I hit the lowest point in my slump this past Tuesday morning. I had been frustrated that I wasn’t speaking Spanish and that I was getting worse at it, and because I was so frustrated I didn’t even feel like trying anymore. So, the cycle continued and, in my opinion, I was slowly losing my ability to communicate. I had also been sick for a while, which only made my attitude and mood worse.

Anyway, on Tuesday my host mom took me on a trip to see a few little towns on the coast of Asturias. When I tried talking to her in the morning as we were leaving, I couldn’t say what I wanted to. And when I say couldn’t, I mean I literally could not form sentences and it felt like about 90% of my vocabulary was simply gone. I was at the point where my heart started racing, I started feeling really nervous and thought to myself “What if I go back to the U.S. without having improved my Spanish at all?” That’s when I took the reigns and decided to turn things around.

As host my mom and I traveled from Tazones:

to Villaviciosa:

to the beach of Rodiles:

I really, REALLY tried to talk more and more. We got lunch in Lastres (fabada was on the menu, which I LOVE by the way):

And by the end of the day, I had noticed a significant improvement in my ability to have a conversation. A significant improvement in just one day! Imagine how well I would speak if I were using just Spanish every single day? For that reason, I made a promise to myself. I’m not extremely religious, but I try to give something up every year for Lent and, you guessed it, this year I’ve given up speaking in English, apart from when I have to (i.e. on skype with my parents, with my Tándem partners, etc.). I figured this would be the perfect way to really force myself to do this. It seems to have been working so far – in the few days since Tuesday morning, I’ve seen a huge turnaround in not only my speaking but also in my attitude.

Going back to the reason why all of this way happening, I’m pretty sure it has to do with feeling comfortable. We’ve been in Oviedo for six or seven weeks now and it’s starting to feel a lot like home. Arlene, the other blogger from Oviedo, wrote a post a week or two ago about everything being new and exciting wearing off and feelings of normalcy starting to set in. Here’s the link. Anyway, this is definitely what was happening to me. I feel so comfortable here, which can be a blessing and a curse. It helps ward off the homesickness, but it also stops you from exploring and actively trying new things. That’s why I’m going to try and keep in mind that I’ll only be here for three more months and that I don’t want to go ‘home home’ 1) not being able to speak Spanish and/or 2) regretting not having done everything I wanted to because I settled down too much. I saw this picture and thought it would be appropriate to post:

Matsugen with Maki

This past Saturday I decided to indulge in some traditional にほんしき キュイジーヌ (Japanese Cuisine).  I met up with my friend, まきさん in the Ebisu section of Tokyo, about a half hour from the Ontakesan Dorm.  When we got there it really hit me that this was a very non-touristy restaurant. Since Tokyo is considered the capital of Japan, there is a lot more English within in the city than one would expect.  Albeit it is nowhere near as much as an English speaking country, but just enough for foreigners to make their way around the city.  Therefore, a significant amount of restaurants have partially English menus.  松玄 (Matsugen) had no English whatsoever on their menu.

The waiter escorted us to a table, long enough to fit eight to ten people comfortably.  There were already four people at the other end.  Thinking they were friends that Maki forgot to tell me she invited, I began to make my way down the table opposite of her.  Then I caught her glancing at me, with a small look of concern. She motioned for me to come to her side of the table.  In this particular restaurant you sat next to whoever you came with.  The others who were sitting at the end of the table were totally different parties.  The sense of privacy is different in Japan, something that has catches me off guard every once in a while during my travels.  In America it seems like we are much more concerned about who is in our “space.”  You’d be surprised by how much “space” we have that we really do not need.

Since my Japanese is limited, I suggested that Maki do most of the ordering, instead of reading every single dish on the menu to me. I told her beforehand that did not know much about Japanese cuisine, so she was more than determined to make me try anything she could think of.  I finally realized the reason why we had to sit next to each other in the restaurant: every course we ordered had to be shared between us.  Before each course, Maki would show me the correct way to remove the food from the main plate and prepare it with various seasonings and spices. Then I would make a clumsy attempt with my chopsticks to match her elegance.  Realizing your incapacity to accomplish tasks so simple to others is a very funny, yet enlightening, experience.  In between eating we would talk in English, and sprinkle bits of Japanese in between.  Maki kept her e-dictionary handy just in case I brought up words that she did not yet know. During conversations, I began to notice how abstract some words really in are in the English language.  It took me a good five minutes to figure out how to explain the word “motivation” in a way that Maki could understand.  It was not because her English was lacking; it was because motivation is a concept of American society.  Since we develop an understanding of it just from living in society, it is much harder to explain what it is.  What I am trying to say is that you can’t really teach someone a feeling.  Everyone thinks about and feels motivation in a different way.  I am sure there is a word in Japanese that has a similar meaning to motivation, but not the exact meaning though.

I enjoyed the food so much that I forgot to take pictures of it all!  We snapped few during the end of our meal:

Curry Udon for the main course....すごい

Mochi for dessert...too good

A Vegetarian in Rome

I am a vegetarian (granted, a relatively new one who does still eat seafood). Before coming to Rome, I was anxious that it was going to be difficult for me to find food in restaurants to accommodate my dining restrictions. I mean, Italians have a reputation of loving their meat. It is a reputation that I have found certainly holds true, and for good reason. Italian cold cuts are some of the best quality meat products in the world. Mortadella (smoked ham similar to bologna) may be gross in the United States, but according to my meat eating friends, it is fabulous in Italy. In almost every specialty food shop there is cured meat hanging from the ceiling. You find this in several restaurants as well. Meat is something Italians take pride in.

Despite this reality, it is not impossible to be vegetarian in Rome. In fact, it has started to become easier. There are a few health food stores and specialty shops around that sell alternatives to meat, like tofu and tempeh, and some grocery stores have even started carrying them as well. The fresh produce available at markets is overwhelming, making it super easy to prepare vegetarian meals at home. Even restaurants are generally vegetarian friendly. At the very least there is usually one pasta dish that is meat free. In every pizzeria, there are several options that don’t even have cheese on them making those options full on vegan.

While it is possible to be vegetarian in Rome, there is a point of caution that needs to be mentioned. The concept of vegetarianism is different from how it is in America; in Rome the definition is not as strict. For example, my first weekend here, we were brought to a special lunch with a separate menu prepared for vegetarians. This “vegetarian” menu included fish. Where as in the United States, it is assumed that a vegetarian does not eat meat; in Rome the opposite is assumed.  This was proven to be the case once again when I ate lunch at an all vegetarian restaurant.  Back home, a menu at a vegetarian establishment would not contain seafood, so I was not expecting to find any on this menu either. However, two of the dishes I tried surprised me by containing salmon. Since I still eat seafood, it was not a problem for me, but for stricter vegetarians, it is something to be aware of.

At other restaurants, I have asked if my dish could be prepared without the meat and was told it would not be a problem only to see them literally take the meat out of my bowl before serving it to me. In Rome, this is no different than if the meat was never in it at all. Other times, I have just been judged or seen as odd for being a vegetarian. When I have told some waiters that I do not eat meat, they have looked at me as though I had three heads. This is by no means the end of the world and can actually be amusing once you get used to it.

Ultimately, the important thing is to be aware that the American meaning of the word “vegetarian” differs from Roman meaning. As long as you are prepared and willing to take a few extra precautions, it is possible to eat meat free in Rome and still enjoy the marvelous food that Italy has to offer.

 

Putting the “Study” in Studying Abroad

Regents Park - Beautiful even in February!

Up until this point, the majority of my time in London has been spent exploring the city, meeting new friends, and enjoying nights out on the town. This week, however, was a big reminder about why I am actually here – which is to study of course! When I imagined my study abroad experience, there really was not any school involved. I pictured playing football in Reagent’s park and shopping in Oxford Circus, but sitting in a computer lab was never part of my dream! Unfortunately, with two assignments due this week, it the computer lab was an unfortunate reality. With a 2500 word paper on social and cultural capital in terms of urban regeneration, and another on my visit to the Tate Modern gallery, this week was filled with a lot less frolicking and fun than the rest of my weeks have been. This was particularly unfortunate solely because this was the first week where London has been truly warm and sunny – with today’s high reaching 60 degrees! As much as I would have preferred being outside enjoying the weather, a few days spent hard at work are a small price to pay for an opportunity to live in a foreign country! After hours and hours of looking up how to reference using the Harvard method and perfecting my papers, I finally completed both papers in time to head to my Thursday evening class. During that class I received my first grade of the semester for a short paper I submitted last week on Israeli Tourism. I looked down at my grade and saw a big “65″ written across the top. My heart dropped as I saw the failing grade, and I quickly went to read the list of comments on the back page. I was even more confused when I read the comments and realized nearly all of them contained positive feedback, with very few answers as to where I went wrong. The girl sitting next to me then looked over at my grade and congratulated me, which took me even more by surprise. She laughed, and explained to me that in England any grade from a 65 and up is an A-! Apparently a 75 in England is a near perfect grade, and no one ever gets higher than that! This certainly made a lot more sense in terms of the feedback I had gotten, and definitely made me a lot happier as well! To congratulate myself on a good first assignment grade and the successful completion of two other assignments, I got myself an ice cream cone and headed to Regent’s Park to sit and admire what was left of the beautiful day. There is something so relaxing about that park, as old couples and young children alike stroll up and down its many paths enjoying the beauty that is everywhere. Even in what is still the middle of winter, the park is green as any I have seen with dazzling flowers somehow still showcasing their beauty. I love this aspect of life in London, because even though you are in the middle of the city it seems so easy to find peace and quiet in nature whenever you need it! Next on my to-do list is a nice long nap, before my weekend can officially begin!

Galicia: La Peregrinacion

Mid-February we joined the Erasmus Student Network for a bus tour of Galicia, the north westernmost region of Spain, in order to explore La Coruña and Santiago.  Finesterre, the very edge of Galicia and the westernmost tip of Europe, was thought to be the end of the (flat) known world until the 15^th century.  Ships sailing beyond would supposedly fall from Earth.  While in Galicia, we enjoyed a rare period of sunlight, a break from a near incessant downpour in the region.  This meant that the students of Oviedo experienced a similar break, promptly sprawling out on the stone steps of a church near the hotel.  Galicia is also a region celebrated for its shellfish and Albariño wine.  In fact, Enrique Iglesias loads a jet with Galician cuisine every month and transports it across the Atlantic Ocean to stock his fridge.

The resting place of Saint James, Santiago is the destination of the infamous European pilgrimage, a snaking path marked by conch shells.  Every known path to Santiago in Europe, from as far as Poland, Germany, and Italy, is made conspicuous by the small embedded golden shell. The cathedral of Santiago is the final destination for the pilgrims; those of the Catholic faith from as far as Poland travel by foot, by bike, or by horse in order to visit the Saint’s remains and absolve their sins.  In the past, the road was quite dangerous and many perished from thirst and exhaustion while crossing the Spanish plains.  Thus, it is a path also marked by graves.  It has become relatively safe with improved technology and accommodations, though many prefer to dress in the traditional garb with walking staff in hand.  The Cathedral is just as impressive of a vision from a distance as it is front and center.  Its face, “La Gloria”, presents sharp and detailed features—lined by the statues of various saints and littered with columns.  A pervasive theme in its adornment is the conch shell.  The Cathedrals four doors, in the shape of a cross, were each created in a unique architectural period, presenting the evolution of Galician cathedral presentation over centuries.  Post-tour we enjoyed some of the regions infamous Albariño wine in an outdoor seating area near its central park, conveniently within earshot of a pair of troubadours performing lounge versions of well-known songs. The sunlight was dazzling against the white pavement, and a massive St. Bernard posted near us with a similarly stupid grin on its face.  The wine was a unique white with a surprisingly light taste contrary to its acidic and potent odor. By night, we left the hotel in search of Santiago’s nightlife only to find that there isn’t much during the coldest parts of winter.  This led us to a restaurant serving pulpo de la gallega, Galician octopus. Steamed with sparsely added olive oil and paprika, its simplicity attests to the sublime quality of the seafood in the area.

The tour took us from Santiago to the coastal port city La Coruña.  It is a city made famous by the Torre de Hercules from the twelve labors of Hercules; constructed in the first century A.D it is the oldest functioning lighthouse in the world.  The lighthouse is on a rocky face overlooking a sea painted by the deepest of cerulean blues.  Patches of yellow spring flowers dotted the hill.  The prime real estate of La Coruña faces the lighthouse and the sea, a long expanse of four story apartments in shades of white and ivory with floor to ceiling windows (though, this might actually detract from its appeal due to the consistency of the rain).  The Plaza de Maria Pita is found just inside the city limits, a plaza dedicated to a woman who, during times of war when most men had been killed overseas, led a battalion of women against the English attacking Galicia.  To continue with my ravings about Galician seafood, this is where you can find the best pulpo de la gallega, mejillones de la roca al vapor (mussels), and percebes (steamed barnacles).  Though I would have never thought to order something as unaesthetic as a barnacle, it was lucky that my adventurous friend Alissa was there to let me sample hers.

It seems that there is a reason as to why Galicia is the only other place Asturians speak well of in all of Spain.

Slow Food in Italy

Italy is the founding nation of a global food movement known as the Slow Food Movement. This movement was originally founded in 1986 in opposition to fast food. In fact, it was started in protest to a McDonalds opening near the Spanish Steps in Rome. Today the movement has expanded to over 150 countries, including the United States. Its objectives include promoting buying local, fresh, and organic food, educating the public about the food system, food safety, and the risks of fast food, and trying to encourage people to buy the best tasting, best grown, and best overall food for yourself and our world. Many restaurants in Rome embrace this slow food movement, one of them being Urbana 47.

Urbana 47, named for its location on via Urbana, 47, right by the Cavour metro B stop, is by no means your traditional Italian trattoria or pizzeria. It is much more similar to the kinds of restaurants that populate Philadelphia. It was relatively small, very modern and super sleek. Although the look and feel of the restaurant was more what I was used to, the thing that got it on my list (as is always the case) was the food. Urbana 47 prides itself on “healthy cuisine,” but most importantly, the restaurant has a “zero food miles” philosophy. This means that all their ingredients come from nearby, small producers which allows them to leave a small environmental footprint and insure they are using only regional, fresh, and quality ingredients.

In addition to the a la carte option, Urbana 47 also offers 3 tasting menus for you to choose from “to make you appreciate the quality of “km 0″ local products,” as they put it. I opted for the first tasting menu: 2 savory courses and a dessert for 35 Euro.

Since Urbana’s menu was more modern and a bit more refined than the trattorias I had become familiar with, I was less certain about the items that I had ordered. There was an English version of the menu online that I had looked over, but I did not remember details from it. This made it all the more exciting to guess which dish was mine as I watched the kitchen prepare the plates.  When I saw them plate this particular dish, I desperately hoped it was meant for me and was happy to find out that it was.

Two generous slices of mozzarella di bufala grilled and placed atop two piles of crispy chicory with a sweet and spicy tomato jam on the side. Oh my goooosssh. This was incredible. It was rich from the cheese which had traces of smokiness from the grill and was countered by the bitter-sharp taste of the chicory, and then it was all brought together with the sweetness of the jam which lightened the whole thing up. Perfection.

My second dish was more of a mystery to me. All I knew was that it was something with cod. It ended up being a cod and potato tort topped with a creamy parmesan cheese sauce. Even as I ate I couldn’t find where the super fresh taste of cod was coming from. I didn’t care. The dish reminded me of scalloped potatoes, a favorite of mine growing up. Despite how much effort clearly went into the making of the dish, it didn’t taste overly complicated. There was a good balance between the cod, potato and cheese, and it was just enough food to satisfy my hunger.

What my dessert would be was, as well, a mystery to me. What I was brought was quaint, simple, and chocolate. It looked promising.

I was pleased to discover that the dessert was a take on tiramisu. There was a light chocolate-coffee mousse layer on the bottom topped with a light sponge cake layer, topped with a chocolate pudding layer finished off with a bit of whipped cream and espresso beans. It was not too sweet and had more mousse than cake to it, which I liked.

Urbana 47 ended up being exactly what I needed. I was ready for a break from heaping piles of pasta (delicious as they may be) and was missing the restaurants I had grown to know so well in Philly. At Urbana 47 I was able to reconnect with a more familiar style of dining while still experiencing the classic flavors of Rome’s chicory, cod, and cheese. The best part of all was that I knew the food I was eating supported a local system of fresh, quality, slow food.

A Weekend in Galicia

Galicia (pronounced Gah – LEE – thyah, or something close to that), the autonomous community right above Portugal in Northwestern Spain, is usually plagued by rain and fog. Fortunately, when we visited this past weekend there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Galicia is known for its Cathedral of Santiago, beautiful coasts, distinct dialect/language and amazing seafood, all of which I got to experience when I was there.

El Camino de Santiago (The Way of Saint James) is a famous route that many religious pilgrims take each year to visit the remains of the apostle Saint James the Greater in the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. The seashell has come to be a symbol of Saint James, due to one legend or another about his body’s arrival in Galicia. These shells can be seen all of the city as well as Spain, pointing towards the endpoint of the pilgrimage:

The shell has a metaphorical meaning as well. The lines on the shell are said to represent the convergence of the multiple different routes that end in Santiago de Compostela. Oviedo has La Cathedral del Salvador (The Cathedral of the Savior) and I actually learned a saying in one of my classes that goes something like this:

Quien va a Santiago y no al Salvador visita al criado pero no al Señor

Which translates to:

He who goes to (the Cathedral of) Santiago and not (The Cathedral of) The Savior visits the servant but not the Lord

Regardless of whether a pilgrim stops in Oviedo or not, they finish their journey at Cathedral of Santiago, a towering building constructed under the reign of Alfonso VI of Castile in the 11th and 12th centuries, although altered and embellished in later centuries.

After staying in Santiago de Compostela overnight, we left for A Coruña the next morning. A much bigger city on the Atlantic coast, La Coruña is the second most populated in Galicia. I knew it was a city world-renowned for its seafood, so I went planning to EAT. And eat I did. After seeing some sights though. We stopped first at La Torre de Hércules (The Tower of Hercules), a lighthouse supposedly dating back to the second century. Actually, this lighthouse is the oldest functional lighthouse in the world. Here’s a photo:

We spent some time here, also checking out the coast:

After taking the bus back into the city, it was time to try this seafood Galicia was famous for. A friend and I stopped at a little restaurant and went to town. We tried percebes (barnacles that grow on the rocks on the coast), some of the biggest mejillones (mussels) I have ever seen and pulpo (octupus) that was to die for. I had eaten it once in Oviedo and once in Santiago de Compostela beforehand, but the octupus in La Coruña, served over potatoes with oil and paprika sprinkled on top, was beyond what I could have imagined. It wasn’t chewy like I was expecting and it tasted fantastic, plain and simple.

I certainly enjoyed it. After a weekend away, I’m ready to hang out in Asturias for a little bit. We have a four day weekend for Carnaval and I’ll most likely be traveling to Avilés and Gijón, two nearby cities, for the festivities. I’ll be sure to post about that next time, maybe with some pictures of me in costume. As they say in Spain, ¡Hasta luego!