Lazy Sunday

The lifestyle here is starting to grow on me. It took some time to accept that nothing is open on Sundays. Pretty much nothing. Almost absolutely nothing. The few exceptions are the cafes that cater to those who don't cook for themselves which is good because people here would otherwise starve on Sunday. I just got back from the lab (also very much empty) and found that the cafes are actually full this evening of men riveted to some sort of football game. That's soccer for you yanks - the Super Bowl is going to come and go without notice in this part of the world.

I had to make an effort to go to the grocery store last night to stock up on groceries so that I'd have something to eat today. Beef stew. I'm excited - my first attempt to cook something real here. It's difficult to cook in a strange country since nothing is quite what you're used to. Like onions - they had sweet onions and green onions (scallions) so I went with the green onions. Now sort of wishing I'd gone for sweet. Or just said screw it all and got a block of yummy dried meat and more cheese.

Yesterday was super fun. Marian and her husband met me and Marta in the morning for a drive out into the countryside. We stopped first in Santilla which is a midieval village that's been preserved and turned into quite a tourist destination. Apparently the narrow cobblestone streets in the summer are thronged with foreigners, and you can see evidence of their past and future presence in the hotels and hostels and pizza and burger bars. But it's delightful in January on a misty day in the 50s. We wandered a few streets with local delectables and had coffee before progressing on to the next destination. Apparently we're going to try to make a return trip on another day because it's close, and it's the village nearest the Altamira Cave.

The second village was also midieval but different from the first in that Santilla is where the wealthier marquis lived, and it has a big old Romanesque cathedral and larger nicer houses whereas Barcena Mayor is up in the mountains and is a more rural agricultural village. The houses are all made of rock with dark wooden terraces, many of which are draped in vines and potted plants. The houses are built in multiple levels with the ground floor serving as housing for livestock. Many people have since converted their ground floors into a garage or shop or workshop, but there was a pony under one house and evidence of livestock under a couple more. The village is a historical site now so even though people still live there and carry on about "normal" agricultural lifestyles, it's in the presence of a lively tourist attraction with bed and breakfasts, restaurants, and giftshops dotted throughout the windy cobblestone streets. It's tastefully preserved, and the benefit of it being a tourist attraction is that the government supports conservation projects that keep these 600+ year old houses intact.

And what blog post would be complete without a description of the meal of the day? We dined at a little restaurant on the river that runs down through the valley along the edge of the village - El Mason Rio Argoza. Another fabulous meal. I only look at the menus to see if there is anything I recognize and memorize the treats that are ordered for me. Otherwise, I leave the selections entirely up to my hosts. Good idea all around. We started with a warm dish of eggs scrambled with wild mushrooms that was perfectly salty. Then there was a dish of sauteed slices of chorizo made from wild boar swimming in scarlet red grease, a plate of thinly sliced ham (jamon) which is a staple of just about every meal, and a platter of assorted "puddings". The puddings were interesting. A Spanish pudding, at least in this area, is a block of something between a mousse and a semi-soft cheese that's made at least partially of egg and comes in several flavors. Our platter had one made with the delightful soft blue cheese that I wrote of earlier, another of fish, a third with mushroom, and the last with crab. They were all wonderful and served with little squares of something similar to melba toast. And we Americans have no appreciation for proper bread compared to the Europeans. The bread here (most of it at least - if it's good) is super hard and crunchy on the outside but light, fluffy, and delicate on the inside. It's inspiring me to crack open my new bread book when I get back and try to master a good artisan loaf.

I'm making myself hungry with this post, so I'm going to be off to finish my stew and settle in to watch a movie before dozing off for the night. I hope everyone is well and enjoyed your weekends. Hasta luego...