Life on the Home Front

     Here in little Salamanca I am living with a lovely host family. We live in the Barrio del Oeste (West Neighborhood), which is a super nifty place, because a couple years ago they started a project where young artists can paint the garage doors. It is sort of like a walking outdoor art gallery. We personally live near the giant green dinosaur. Near the central fountain there are trees and bikes covered in crocheted yarn, etc... super creative hippie stuff like that.
     Other than blabbing about the beautiful garage doors in the neighborhood (they are seriously the coolest garage doors you will ever see), I should tell you a bit about our actual house. Spaniards don't spend much time in their houses, so nothing too exciting happens here, but we do always have a big family lunch together. Me and another student from my program live with our host mom, Pilar. She has a son and daughter both in their twenties who live with their dad (though the son spends most of the year working elsewhere). They all come over for lunch and we tend to share our individual plans for the afternoon whilst watching the actual news on TV. Lots of news. Overall, we become very well informed citizens over lunch.
    Only downside of lunch is that it's at 2:00pm at the earliest, which is pretty early for Spanish standards. The meal schedule in Spain is delayed about 2-3 hours and becomes increasingly delayed as the day goes on. Spaniards don't really start functioning till 9am at the earliest. Lunch happens anywhere between 2-4pm. Dinner in our house is at 9pm, but that's pretty early for Spain, as some people don't eat until 10:30 or 11:00pm. I have developed a new habit of eating chocolate chip greek yogurt for dessert with every meal. I tell myself it's healthy because it's yogurt. Yogurt or fruit is the typical dessert here (despite the impression I've given with my addiction to ice cream shops and bakeries).
     Then there is Jaco. An extremely tiny Yorkshire terrier who enjoys barking, peeing around the house, and running in circles. Overall, a friendly little dude. He thinks his reflection is another dog, but... at least he's cute. He also, thankfully, is very Spanish in his sleeping habits, i.e. he knows how to sleep in like a champ.
     My host mom is very good at putting up with my creative grammar and vocabulary. Sometimes I say things that apparently are non-existent and she gets quite a kick out of it, so much so that she starts incorporating my made-up words into the family lexicon. I tell her that's dangerous because then I will keep thinking they are words! She finally informed me the other day that I'd been calling the trashcan the garbage man. To my credit, in Latin America the word for garbage man can also mean trashcan, but I guess that is definitely not the case here. Contrary to the implications of my Spanish, there is indeed not a little garbage man living under our sink.

Cristina, Me, Tiana, Pilar

Our neighborhood 

The Plaza Mayor at Christmas time