After two months living with a Spanish family I have moved to a shared apartment to accompany four very friendly young women from Poland, the US, France and Greece/Romania who share a near harmonic environment on the 4th floor of a Franco-era apartment block. The apartment is in the perfect location, across from the supermarket and a short walk from the beach. This is something the girls take to their advantage when they go to their preferred cafe on the weekend to have breakfast and perhaps stay out long enough, if weather permits, to have lunch as well.
 |
| The new view |
It was an interesting experience to live with another family for such a long time. I can't possibly imagine having smelly young men treading through my home (and you would know what I mean by smelly after walking into the bathroom shared with 3 pubescent teenagers from Dresden). I must say I was quite happy to move out by the end. Despite my yearning for independence, I can't really complain for what I had there. A breakfast and an excellent dinner cooked by a chef who owns his own Spanish restaurant. I had a large and colorful room with a view on the Mediterranean and most of the time it was only me living there anyways due to the low season. One thing that did irritate me was the near refusal of the family to talk to me. Dinners were usually spent in silence as they watched television and I sat lonesome on the dinner table, perhaps accompanied by their 7 year old son, similarly mute. At other times I would mention a topic such as my presentation on the death penalty I had one day and suddenly the father wouldn't stop talking!
 |
| It seems traffic laws have abandoned this road I see from my window |
As it is one of my first times living independently and having to cook for myself it is a bit of a weird feeling. However, so far that hasn't really been a problem as they are all more experienced with the matter and often offer to cook for me anyways! (maybe because I dared kill a rather large cockroach in the kitchen for them - which we posthumously baptized Pepe) The one big problem with the apartment is the abundance of a language called English, a tongue foreign to Spanish soil. It seems to be a natural consequence of making good friends, whether in Freiburg or Malaga, the language people are more comfortable with eventually establishes itself as the lingua franca - which is nearly always English.
 |
| Eaten from right to left, this nigiri was fantastic |
My move to the new apartment coincided with a visit of my mother form Sweden that weekend. It was a delightful time, never too much and always pleasant. Not to mention the fact that I had some of my best culinary experiences in Spain. High quality tapas, steak served on a burning hot stone and probably the best sushi I've ever had contributed to a "firework of taste" as my mom coined it.
