Confessions of the Foodgirl

I have been effing loving my yogurt this week. Im all like "hey healthy
hipsters right on, yogurt is totally the cats pajamas. I may even throw some trendy oatmeal on this soiree." (for the record I have learned how to say soiree correctly so I'm going to be uber using it to make up for all my half whispered self conscious attempts in the past). Back to yogurt...  I take small pensive bites like on the commercials where you know they are thinking "my waist is shrinking because of this impeccable snack choice." (or they are supposed to think that?). Thats totally what I WAS thinking when I took my smart bites. That is until today when I read the label and realized I've been eating the FULL fat greek yogurt. Those jerks changed the off brand ones to look like the low fat labels and I've been living in a some salubrious delusion. 

Until the next time something colossal happens in my life,
Coco Therese Risch

Soiree soiree soiree.

Ps readers: . I had to start somewhere. Who knew it would be about yogurt traps. Good news though is shoulder pads are back, Arrested development is back and CAMILLES BLOGS ARE kindof BACK!! Can I have a virtual pat on the back? (aka that means a shiny comment present). 

Old People Bully Me

I ran into the grocery store to grab a few things before it and everything closed during the 3-hour middle of the day, ghost town phenomenon that happens everyday in Spain. I will leave my views on efficiency out of this. Sundays, everything is closed. All day. And it is horrible. It has a very apocolyptical feel. I wander the deserted streets wondering where I am going to find sustenance. (Like I am supposed to remember this fact every Saturday and be prepared for Sunday armagedon? Que va!) Anyway, my mother thinks its nice they still respect the  religious tradition of a day of rest. I, on the other hand, think that because the poor procrastinators like myself are forced into fasting, there is nothing religious about it. I actually become quite spiteful and bitchy on Sundays.

Where was this road taking us.... ah yes. Today. I went to the supermarket. I bought 5 five things. Bread, cucumbers, tomatoes, babybell cheese, jamon, and yogurt. Ok, six things. But the small amount that they can easily be held. The woman with two carts filled to the brim was in front of me, along with a million stranded carts. Now, I've had people behind me ask "me puedes pasar?" if they have fewer things than I do, and yes the religious, fasting human being that I am lets the person go first. When I am the person with less things however, I feel like I should be allowed to pass as well. The cycle continues right? I asked the woman and she said, no.

WTF.

Then all of the sudden I feel a sharp jab in my back. I turn around and an old man is growling hastily at me and pointing to one of the carts in betweent the woman and I. He had been off collecting more items to put in his cart. You've got to be kidding me. You want to go first too huh? I immediately was going to tell him "Look, it's not fair for you to abandon you're cart here to to save your spot. If it had worked like that, I would have placed mine here when I arrived and returned when I felt like it!"

My Spanish is not as quick as my English.

I was finger in the air about to say that and the conditional verb conjugations wouldn't remember the fucking dance moves. Hadn't we rehearsed conditional before? Now, go out there and stand your ground verbs! Make Camille proud! But alas, all I said was, "thats not fair." And another spainaird passed me in the check-out line.

I looked at the 18 year old cashier trying to get some sympathy out of him for everything that just happened but it was fruitless. Besides the people behind me were beginning to besiege.

Camille Covers Turmoil in Middle East

Recently I had to cancel (again) my trip to Morocco because of the massive hoopla in the Arab world. For that, I feel its time I dedicate a blog entry to this matter.

First off, I have not kept a Katie Couric eye on the events but I've scanned the AOL 3 second news clips before something about Charlie Sheen comes up. (Because now I can't get enough of his drug). But when I do see news about the unrest in Libya and the Middle East, I immediately find myself cheering for the rebels. I think this is because my American History education has taught me rebels are bad asses and red coats are dumb because they stand out. But I really have no idea who the good guys are and who the bad guys are. If I was watching a movie when I was little, my dad would fill me in on which guys were which. But somehow I can't just ask "Gaddafi is the bad guy right...?" And maybe not every revolution was like ours. However this I wouldn't know because in America we learned that History, is American History. So of course I know that George Washington was Jesus' cousin and the world began in 1776. But about the turmoil in the East, there are countries I've never even heard of yathzee-ing it up. Djibouti? You're a country? I thought you were something I ate with naan. Disculpa, but the truth is I've never claimed to be a current affairs buff. I just merely analyze current events by how they make me feel, what movie I am reminded of or how I can pun around the words. To top things off, sometimes I accidentally say I am from the Middle East instead of the Midwest. If I were you, I would avoid having me on your Trivial Pursuit team. I'm more of a Cranium and MadGab girl. And I can Skip it for like hours.

That is the update. I hope this has been educational.

Nuzzle Nuzzle

I used to think it was amazing that people started recognizing me places but I'm starting to realize I may stand out more than I think. A funny incident happened yesterday that contrasts my customs vs. those of spanish people.

I had gone to the gym and showered there. I never bring a hair dryer and I'm always too hot to wear pants to leave in, so I left with wet hair and in gym shorts. These are basically two of the seven deadly sins in Spanish women's eyes. Every woman at my gym leaves booted, vested, manicured and scarved. So ultimately to them I must have looked pretty gorgeous. Anyway, on the way home I stopped at the grocery store and bought my groceries and also an empanada to appease the hungry hungry hippo living inside me. It starts to rain, of course, and so I stumble race home as quickly as possible. I finally get inside and being the typical American that I am, I couldn't wait til I got in my apartment to eat my empanada. It felt like it should be my treat for the recent downpour of events. So even though I was with school bag, gym bag, and a ton of groceries, I decide to open my empanada in the elevator. This is where the story gets awkward.

The elevator door opens and its really dark in my hallway. I am super weighed down and about to collapse and I didnt finish my empanada. The light switch is on the wall to my right but I have no available hands. Of course I didnt want to set some things down just for a light switch, (even though in three seconds I would have had to set them down to get my keys) so I think quickly and impulsively and attempt to turn the light on with my only available body part, my nose. Just as my nose touches the switch, the door next to me opens and out walks one of these trim prim Spanish women.

The drenched American girl wearing shorts in February, overloaded with bags of all sorts and holding a half eaten empanada appears to be nuzzling the light switch. I thought my spanish has been improving but there were just no words to rectify this situation.

Ah, yes I blend in like chameleon.

My middle name is Scaredy Cat

Last night I reached for my glass of water and because hand eye coordination has never been one of my bragging rights, I basically pushed it off the table where it soon met its death. Being that I was snuggled in nicely in my nest, cleaning it up wasn't really something I wanted to deal with so I threw a pair of red pants on top of it. I think my logic was the red was supposed to signal my attention this morning when I got out of bed. No alerts went off this morning. No one was hurt but it left me thinking all day.... Someday I could be a mother? I sometimes can't believe the situations I put myself in. How easy it would have been to clean up, rather than getting out of bed to a scene straight from a Saw movie.

I wish I was more proactive but I'm just not and it turns out Spain and I share that in common. I've done some activities since I've been here that would qualify as waiver necessary adventures. Ha, yeah right, I have not even seen a waiver of any sort. Are we just over protective in the States? Or more prepared for accidents? When I went sailing we walked on these balance beam-thin floating things that they use to fish for mussels. Here this photo explains better than my 20 adjective sentence:

When I stepped on to this unstable structure on top of freezing cold water, my legs immediately turned to linguini. That trigged the intrinsic reaction to become horizontal as soon as possible. The instructor saw my fear and came over to give me a hand. But (and this applies to all boys) somehow thought it would be hilarious to shake me in my moment of already extreme trepidation. I thought I was going to cry. Actually I think I did. Then he announced as an afterthough, "ah girls, if you fall in the water, No move. I come to you, because the mussels... they have knives in the mouths and can damage the body."

I think this was the only verbal acknowledgement of what to do if something bad happens. And maybe it was the translation or word choice, but I felt whole heartedly worse after he said that.

On Saturday we decided to go horseback riding.  I guess I felt I've been needing more risk in my life and eating questionably expired cheddar just wasnt cutting it for the adventure level. But honestly, I was really really excited for this.

Until....

I met Jacob.

Pronounced "ha-ko-bo". He was my horse. And I am pretty sure this was the first time he had a human being on his back. We got off on the wrong foot when I called him Jacob and maybe commented on his matted hair. He took offense really fast and decided he wouldnt listen to my commands at all. When I kicked to go faster, he halted. And when I told (asked/begged/insisted/pleaded) to stop, he sure as hell did not. I told the horse trainer that Jacob wasnt listening to me and doesnt speak Spanish or English. And you know, like trainer like horse. He didnt really help me out either. I would have thought again, the apparent fear in my face would signal some reaction. He didnt shake me like the sailing instructor but he did use this stupid pokey thing on Jacob to make him go the right way and I was like "god please stop tormenting my horse!" (But in a moment of crisis your brain definately does not produce translations for such important phrases).

 I dont trust that trainer or ha-ko-bo. 

Here is a picture. Jacob is on the far right trying to appear pony-esque. Do not be fooled by his small stature or silly horse facade.

They look peaceful in this next picture as well but they were actually just fed up with pictures and turned around to start doing their own thing again. (However, this also happens alot with Risches.)

 

Moral of the story is Im going to be reading some books for a while and hope no more precarious situations call my name. Here are the things I do for sure know about myself so I can be sensible next time making a decision. Camille does not like heights, spiders, fast things, unstable things, heights (its quite important so it gets listed twice), animals that aren't cute and fluffy and fully tamed or divided by a protective glass, slippery rocks, crazy druggie people, oh and she really hates being trapped in a kayak underwater. (That adventure didn't take long to abandon and swear never to attempt again.)

Soy asi.

-Camille S.C. Risch

Peace Day

We celebrated "Dia de Paz" the other day at school. It was a beautiful sunny day and we took the afternoon off to celebrate the event. After the banners each class had made were put up and applauded for, we went out to the playground. We all held hands in a spiral formation and started singing a song. Apparently there was a choreographed dance as well that I didnt know. But with elementary school children they repeat the song and dance like 5 times and fortunately I picked it up in a cinch and was whirling and twirling with everyone else.  Then something was announced and a mass stampede to the center commenced. I had no idea what was going on (as always), I just knew that all the children were pushing towards the center of the black hole and something awesome must be up there.

Turns out we were releasing doves.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Please stop and look at how cute my school/children are:

http://centros.edu.xunta.es/ceipriadevigo/

I stopped in the fruiteria

When I run I usually put my key in my ipod pouch with a two euro coin. Tonight I stopped by the fruiteria and dug out my belongins and then dropped the key in the crate of potatoes. The man had no idea why i was being so picky choosing potatoes and I had no idea how to explain. Until, eureka! I held up the key to the whole shabang.

And then he found out I got crazier because I kept asking "how much would my total be with ...this... (holding up a pepper)?" I wanted to get as close to two euros as possible. Turns out, you can buy a head of cauliflower, six carrots and two bananas. What a deal!