El Salvador, December 2008, Part I

El Salvador Part 1

It was 7 am on December 16th, 2008. The lovely young Mexican American woman from Boulder CO we were chatting with yesterday came by to say goodbye. We boarded the van taking us from Antigua to Guatemala City with the very well traveled Swiss woman who was on her way to South America;

The comfortable Tica bus was about an hour late leaving the City but soon we were driving through mountainous, volcanic rural areas strewn with ignacious rock and cinder, dormant (I hoped) volcanic peaks not far off. The roads are better or at least faster than in Mexico, if for no other reason than there are fewer speed bumps along the way. We enjoyed the views in silence because the dvd player thankfully wasn’t working.

At the border immigration and customs came through the bus. Papusas (stuffed tortillas), chicken and other offerings could be found in the tiny booths and tables. The ubiquitous vendors found their way onto the bus offering platanos fritos, sandwiches, water and other beverages. They competed with one another, each in rapid fire conveying the contents of their offering.

As we headed south the landscape flattened and became uglier. It’s the dry season in el Salvador. The vegetation is dead or dying and everything along the road is covered in dust. We passed through many small towns with plain concrete structures with corrugated roofs, small ‘tiendas’ (shops) with friendly sounding names and slogans on the rough concrete walls, many of them general stores selling mostly food. There were lots of car repair shops too, complete with shade trees. On either side there were fields of corn and other vegetables growing in the dust.

The outskirts of San Salvador extend for what seemed like hours. But once at the bus station it was just a 10-15 minute taxi ride to Hotel Simililus near Metro Center, where Nic was to meet us. Nic’s our nephew. He joined the Peace Corps, and is just starting his second and last year here unless he re-commits. The Peace Corps houses volunteers at this hotel. Nic was here last fall when he was recovering from his broken leg. He and the staff are very close- he was here over a month. Leti was at the door to welcome us; Nic had told her about our arrival. He called her Niña Leti, (Daughter Leti). ‘Niña,’ I later learned, is a term similar to ‘Miss,’ and seems to be in lieu of ‘señorita,’ while ‘Señora’ is used only for the very old.

Leti called Nic when we arrived. He told us he would not arrive until tomorrow. He was playing soccer with other volunteers near the Guatemala border.

Our first outing was for dinner. We walked down the hill to Metro Center, a very American looking shopping center. We felt like we were back in the States, especially given what was on offer in the food court and restaurants, the prices and the greenback – the dollar became the official currency of el Salvador in 2001. We finally settled on a restaurant where we ordered pan pizzas and coca light. The bill came to an astounding $18. We could eat for two days in Mexico for that, and this meal would have been cheaper in the States, and better. While we were there the restaurant was playing Christmas music in English, one a rendition of “I Saw Momma Kissing Santa Claus” by the Jackson 5. Michael must have been about 8 years old. He said “I did, I did!” from time to time. Good grief!

Nic arrived mid-morning the next day, fresh from the chicken buses which go everywhere in this country very cheaply if uncomfortably. We took a chicken bus to have lunch at his favorite ‘torta’ (sandwich) place across town close to Peace Corps headquarters. The tortas were wonderful, served hot and only $1.25 each, and we sat on the sidewalk on plastic chairs next to the tiny green stand.

There were two or three workers busy filling orders. By way of contrast, a bit later near the dentist’s office Nic and I had cappuccinos. They were good but $2.50 each! But unlike tortas, which are everywhere and usually good, coffee in el Salvador is lousy, often instant, so getting a good one turned out to be expensive and rare, despite the fact that coffee grows here. The good stuff is mostly exported.

The lesson we learned here was the two worlds of el Salvador, one very poor and the other quite well to do, the Metro Center/cappuccino world and the sidewalk torta world. Naturally the former outnumbers the latter by a very, very wide margin.

Buses belong to the poor. A ride is $.25, ‘una cora’ in the local lingo, a distortion of ‘quarter.’ Many of the buses are old, and often very old school buses from the US (a few are from Canada). They belch black diesel smoke, have manual transmissions that get you going slowly and noisily (especially if the engines are equipped with blowers), but once going they fly! There are newer, smaller and less polluting mini-buses that cost the same ‘cora.’ Although they run much cleaner and quieter, they are not as pretty as the school buses, which are often highly chromed and fancily painted, giving a special decorative accent to what is otherwise a very dreary place, filled with unattractive shops and dwelling some of which are mere shacks. In fact it’s hard to find anything attractive at all.

Nic thinks the buses are privately owned. This makes sense, given how they handle money. There are no receipts or coin deposits. The money goes into the driver’s hands, or his assistant’s, and into a box or pocket, so there is no reliable way to account for revenues. I imagine the driver leases a route, paying a fixed fee per month, so what he earns is his own affair. The government subsidizes fuel costs, but you are on your own when it comes to repairs. Drivers joke that these buses should not be called chicken buses but egg buses, because they break so easily.

The buses are often very crowded, making me feel a bit claustrophobic so sometimes I stood near the door rather than sit down. On longer rides if you have a seat, Nic told us, you’d often end up holding packages or children for people who are forced to stand. It’s a rather friendly environment filled not only with people but packages and the occasional – yes, you guessed it – chicken. People use the public transport for shopping and deliveries alike, so people wanting to sell a small animal, even regular vendors sometimes ride to market with their goods for sale.

At the Peace Corps office (where you can get aspirin, books and the internet), we met Lisa (I think that’s her name) who planned Nic’s participation in a radio show from San Miguel. This is a weekly program to teach English to Salvadorans. There are enormous numbers of Salvadorans in the US, so there should be a lot of interest in this program. Then we took a bus or two to the hostal where Nic is staying. It’s a lot cheaper than the Simililus but has comfortable seating in the lounge. Most PC volunteers stay here when they have to pick up the tab. Nic says there are private rooms as well as dorms, but Peg wasn’t interested in moving.

That evening we ate dinner at the Euro cafe. It’s just a few minutes walk from our hotel and is in a street crowded with restaurants. I wish we’d known about this area last night. We had dinner for $2.50-3.00 each. Nic ordered a bucket of beers. The order comes in a steel bucket with ice, for about $1.00 each. The price is right but none of the beers have much flavor. Along with the beer comes loud music, but at least it wasn’t the Jackson Five. Some of Nic’s friends joined us, including Jeannine. I began to wonder if something was going on between her and Nic but then I heard that she is married, so I let my curiosity abate, but something about Nic’s behavior was different. He’d been somehow distracted the last time I’d spoken with him, but as it was all none of my business I said nothing.

On Thursday we boarded the bus for San Vicente. I can’t remember why we went there but Jeanine would already be there, which seemed just great to me, since she’s friendly and a lot of fun. The last bit of the journey there involved yet another form of transport: the pickup. It was a small one, perhaps a Nissan, with a steel frame jutting up from the fenders. For una cora or some pittance we drove, some sitting, others standing as we bounced down the steep hill, our luggage at our sides, my graying hair flopping in the breeze. I hope they have a cover for this thing. During the rainy season it rains every day, usually in the evening, so a cover would be essential to keep you from drowning.

I don’t know who San Vicente was, but he cared neither for cleanliness nor beauty if current conditions are any indication. It’s one of the ugliest places I’d ever been, trash everywhere, beauty in design prohibited, loose dogs wandering about. Vendors spread a blanket or sheet on the sidewalk, then arrange their goods on them- at least their arrangements are usually attractive. Amazingly the people are spotlessly clean, their clothes all look like they were washed yesterday, and everyone has bathed very recently.

Nic took us to a hotel without a name. It has a shared bathroom down the way a bit over a dirty looking concrete floor. I think Nic said his PC group stayed in San Vincente during training so that’s how he knew about this place. Nic is in another room across the way. It was now that we learned for sure that he and Jeanine were, shall I say, getting rather close. It was nice to see but I didn’t quite understand the Wendel part. We’d met him and found out he was the husband. Hmmm.

But we were distracted by the amoeba conversation. Wendell told us that PC volunteers spend a great deal of time dealing with intestinal issues. When he first encountered this problem he went to PC headquarters from his site to get some pills. This must have been quite fun given that chicken buses do not come with bathrooms. After a course of treatment you have to go back to the capital for a follow-up visit. Then you get another infestation and do the same thing again. He gave up on the official route for dealing with the critters, and he says everyone does. You just deal with as best as you can, and share your stories with other volunteers over beer. That PC life here. Beer and amoebas.

It wasn’t the talk about all this that caused my intestines to go haywire. I’ve got visitors! My stomach feels like it’s twice its normal size, it’s painful and I’m nauseous to boot. My mouth tastes like old, very old rancid Fritos. Our visit to a papuseria for dinner did not help a bit. I thought maybe drinking coke would help. It didn’t. I suffered through dinner, hungry and sick at the same time, and shuffled back to Hotel La Dumpa. Nic and Jeanine went to their room, the one with its own bathroom.

I got up in the middle of the night. It was that or ruin the sheets. It was pitch black. I did not have a flash light. I managed to find the dirty bathroom in time, and left the light on so I could find my way back to bed. Listening to my stomach noises somehow put me to sleep.

New friends and another paella

We met Nuria (young woman with black hair in the photos below)  at the language group which meets at the Portland bar every Tuesday.  She claimed her mother made the best paella during one of our discussions.  I’d asked about paella in an effort to broaden my understanding of what constitutes ‘paella’ in the land of paella.  More of this below.

Nuria’s parents invited us to their house for paella one afternoon.  They are very warm and friendly.  Her mom, who runs a small clothing factory in the basement employing  5 (down from a peak of 12), loves to cook and has a great kitchen.  In fact the house is great.  It was remodeled not too long back.  It was her parent’s house, which she inherited I assume.  There are 3 floors and about 3 bedrooms, tiles floors and baths, quite Spanish in look and feel, and modernized as well.

She offered to teach Peg how to make paella.  But I am the paella chef so I looked on.  (continued below the slide show)

[slideshow id=12 w=400 h=400]

She used a traditional paella pan.  This is a flat pan about 2-3 inches deep.  To get a wide flame, so the heat is not just in the center of the pan, they buy a big ring which they connect to bottle of gas.  Sometimes they cook outside.  She just put the gas ring on her gas cooktop and fired away.

She told me that you put in enough olive oil to cover the pan bottom to within about 2″ of the edge.  Then you add the chicken and rabbit.

After the meat is cooked, you cook the onions, garlic and a bit of pureed tomato- it may have been sofrito, which is garlic, onion and tomatoes cooked in olive oil.   When the onions are slightly brown you add the stock and the paella spices.  She did not measure anything.  Since there is no cover on the pan you need more than a 2/1 ration of water to rice.  She add broad green beans and the garrafon, large white beans.  Her recipe is pretty similar to another of our local friends.

Before dinner there was plenty to eat.  Nuria’s father sliced smoked ham off a leg (complete with hoof).  This kind of ham is generically referred to as ‘serrano ham.’  The Italians call it prosciutto.  It’s in the same family.  There was some strong cheese, probably sheep.  Manchego cheese is made with sheep’s milk but other varieties are too.   There was some fine wine, too, while we waited.  In the meantime Sari and I chatted while she cooked.

The paella was lovely and once again better than what we’d had in restaurants a few months ago when we arrived.

Figs grow in Spain and there are several right close by.  The first issue of the fruit each year is very large, perhaps twice the size of one harvested in the second round.  They weren’t ready yet so we could not have them for dessert.  But the other dessert was wonderful, toron ice cream.   Toron is made from almond paste, egg whites and sugar.  It makes that dense candy that you might have seen or tried in the US.  It is also found in Italy.  Fabuloso!

They rolled me down the steps when it was time to go.

Some new friends

We met Nuria at the language group which meets at the Portland bar every Tuesday.  She claimed her mother made the best paella during one of our discussions.  I think I’d asked about paella in an effort to understand what constitutes ‘paella’ in the land of paella.  I learned that paella contains only rabbit, chicken, large white beans called garafons, and I think also wide green beans.  There are many rice dishes also made with safron, but they do not call them paella.  When made with seafood, for instance, it is called El Señor or something like that.  There is a black rice version made with the ink from the squid.  You can check out the many variations in Penelope Casa’s book, The Foods and Wines of Spain.

Nuria’s parents invited us to their house for paella one afternoon.  They are very warm and friendly.  Her mom, who runs a small clothing factory in the basement employing  5 (down from a peak of 12), loves to cook and has a great kitchen.  In fact the house is great.  It was remodeled not too long back.  It was her parent? house, which she inherited I assume.  There are 3 floors and about 3 bedrooms, tiles floors and baths, quite Spanish in look and feel and modernized.

She offered to teach Peg how to make paella.  But I am the paella chef so I looked on.  (continued below the slide show)

[slideshow id=12 w=400 h=400]

She used a traditional paella pan.  To get a wide flame they buy a big ring which they connect to bottle of gas.  Sometimes they cook outside.  She just put the gas ring on her gas cooktop and fired away.

Connections to a video

In March we went to the Consulate to get a document notarized in connection with my effort to obtain dual citizenship.  Someone had posted a notice from a bar where you could exchange English and Spanish.  We went to that bar.  There we met Husan.  Husan had learned to the play the piano after moving from Korea as a 10 year old to the Canary Islands.  The Canary Islands did not fall into the sea so therefore Husan could finish her training,which took her to Vienna.  Therefore she was able to take a job in Valencia 18 years later.   She invited us to see one of her students perform.

Here is the video:

Husan Park accompanies Carmen Romeu, soprano.

This is Carmen’s last performance at the school.  She is already working and should become successful as an opera singer.  This is a highly competitive field and relatively few people find steady work.  She has a fighting chance.

Spanish cuisine- tapas

What is the Spanish cuisine

Tapas

Tackling this topic is difficult because of the immense breadth and depth of the Spanish cuisine.  There are regional dishes and variations, ingredients galore and a long history.  But I’ll be taking my cue from what you encounter as you walk around Valencia.

Probably the first thing you notice are the tapas.  Tapas (the word for cover or lid) are everywhere in bars and restaurants.  More than anything else, this is what Spaniards order when they go out.  The servings are modest in size so you can eat multiple varieties in the course of an evening.  Not that it’s a cheap way to eat anymore.   Let me give you an example or two.

Peg and I went out with a group a couple of weeks ago.  We went to a nearby spot.  They decided as a group what to order.  In a while, out came chicken croquettes (always deep fried), marinated mushrooms, patatas bravas (potatoes in a  mildy spicy red sauce, about as spicy as anything gets here), some sort of chicken fingers, and a couple of other dishes.   You can get slices of manchego (sheep cheese) marinated in olive oil, anchovies, calarmi frito (fried), red peppers, green peppers, tortialla española (potato omlette), patatas alioi (potatoes in a garlic mayonnaise sauce), various ways of stuffing eggs eg with tuna.  The list is endless.   These are run between 3.50 ($5.00) and 8.00 euros ($11) a pop.  Our modest repast with our friends cost us 20 euros ($28) including beer, which runs about $5 a pint.  It is not exactly a cheap night out and we were not exactly full either, but was fun- it is always fun. Another night went to a bar near our first apartment (we call it the green bar, near the Torres Serrano) and we spent 40 euros for 4 although this included a bottle of wine for 8 euros ($11).

We remember it being cheap in Madrid when we were living there, late 1998-May 1999. They’d give you some olives with your beer. The beer was maybe .75, now over $2.00 for a caña, which is about 8 oz so, very small, and $5 a pint.  I am talking ordinary beer, nothing fancy.  And at that time in Madrid you could get an order, una raciòn, of say patatas bravas for maybe $1, as much as $2 in a fancy place.  In one place where we used to go for a beer in Madrid they gave you a small plate of paella.  We do not get much free here, although there are a few such places still.

Tapas are a bit more vegetable and seafood type of item, though there are meat based tapas here, for example those ham croquettes.   You get serrano ham on bocadillos, which are basic sandwiches, so they aren’t tapas though you could order them at the same time.  Montaditos are more in the tapas area.  They are “Things mounted on a piece of bread.”  You could  get a montadito with chorizo, for example, a bit of chorizo (dry sausage in the pepperoni family) .  But its more veg and seafood here, and there is cheese, too, very good, strong cheese.

Tapas and the cuisine in general are heavy on the olive oil and often on the garlic as well (noticeable but never biting).    There are a lot of deep fried items amongst tapas, but less so in the other meals.

Croquetas de Jamon - Ham Croquettes (c)

Because we are close to the sea here, there is perhaps a greater prevalence of seafood.  In the tapas bars you see gambas (shrimp), bocarones (small fish) and sardinias (you can figure this one out) and octopus usually in a vinegar based sauce but perhaps fried also.  These days you find fish all over Spain, even fresh, of course, but there is more and greater variety on the coasts.

Tapas are about having fun as much as eating.  You sit in bars, outside on the sidewalk as much as inside, for the weather permits outdoor seating year round.  Your friends join you and you talk about your week, the economy, politics.  Or whatever.

St Vincent Ferrer’s day parade.

Processions on St. Vincent’s day feature an effeminate Vincent flinging his index finger skyward.  Curates in procession wore the bishop’s red or plain black for the rank and file.   Women joined in, dressed in black, middled aged and older women, with veils and a little rigid curved piece on the back of the head from which fell more black lace.  They looked quite somber and dignified.  A military contingent marched in goose step and bands played.  Sparse crowds watched as the city’s patron saint rolled pass, some clapping as he went by.  How odd, i thought, to clap for a statue.  I guess if you can believe in magic bread you can clap for a statue.

Pasta paella

Peg made a pasta paella  yesterday, with clams and shrimp.  Interesting you can have a saffron dish using pasta- a real thin pasta.  With the excess clams I made pasta with clams today.  They don’t call it a paella here, only rice with a bean called a garafon, chicken and rabbit is called a paella- there is never seafood in paella here.  And this is where paella was invented.
This weekend there is a ceramic fair in the Plaza de la Virgen and the city band plays and you can dance at 11.  PM that is.  You know what late owls the Spanish are.  At midnight there are, guess —- fireworks.  And more music and dancing.
These people know how to have a good time!

Gaudi’s Barcelona and Dali’s Figueres

March 22, 2011

Photos/slide show from Barcelona, Figueres and Tarragona

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After Fallas we drove to Barcelona, about 350 kilometers to the north.  There were 6 of us in the van.  Four of our good friends are here for a visit.

Barcelona is Spain’s second largest city and among the most gorgeous of Europe in large part due to the architectural style called Modernismo.  Antonio Gaudi, an architect whose flamboyant style is to be found nowhere else, makes a visit here obligatory for those who want to see in person what they have marveled at in photos.

We were there just two days and in that short a time you have to see La Sagrada Familia, the Holy Family, a cathedral whose height dwarfs its footprint.  The structure gives meaning to the phrase ‘over the top’:  it is over the everything.

La Sagrada Famila, still under construction after over 100 years

The Gothic quarter has many small streets, not haphazard as in most medieval quarters, but laid out on a grid that is left over from the Romans.  On one edge you find a Roman wall.  Within the quarter there are a few Roman era buildings, some medieval, others modern, including a Gaudi apartment building.  This was his first apartment building, as I recall, which we stumbled across while looking for a bar for an early beer with Neal. We were returning from a visit to the Maritime Museum.

Since we came by car we had a few adventures in parking.  When we first arrived we tried a garage.  It was so cramped that not only was making a turn difficult, it was claustrophobic as well.  We finally found a spot on the street.  Parking is free between 2 and 4 pm and after 8 pm until 8 am, otherwise we tried to feed it from the parking ticket dispenser, which accept coins, bills or credit cards.

We drove to Figueres after visiting Gaudi’s park.   Figueres is known for the Dali Museum.  The Dali mansion is 30 kilometers outside town.  The famous Cadillac that showers the mannequin occupants is gimmicky in my book, as are some of Dali’s dual image paintings, which, unlike the Caddy at least needed great skill to do.

But the man could draw, so I spent time lots of time on his drawings.

He can also paint what he wants, in various styles.  A rare example of the diversity of his skills was the exhibit of his Disney movie work.  It was never completed as the agreement with Disney fell apart.

I have been wanting to see this museum for years and I would not mind going again.

We left the mom and pop hotel/restaurant bar, I think it is called the Gallego, to start our return.  We stopped off in Tarragona, another Roman era town perched on a cliff with gorgeous views of the Med.  There’s a small excavation in the town center.  They have uncovered the Forum.

Our first restaurant meal in Valencia

Spanish restaurants can be disappointing, despite having some of the best ingredients to work with.  But today we were certainly not disappointed with our experience at Peregrino (the Pilgrim).

The meal started with a complimentary appetizer.  Today it was a small bowl of a kind of beef stew with a few potatoes.  I know it does not sound like an appetizer, but it worked.  It was excellently and uniquely spiced.  It came with some very good bread with a bit of olive oil sprinkled on.  Some Spanish bread tastes stale no matter how fresh it is, and is very dry as if they use no oil, and there is little or no salt to boot.  This was nearly as good as the best French baguette.
The offerings here are quite ambitious, especially for such a small place.  For today’s specials (menu of the day) we could choose between a soup from Gallegos or a mixed vegetable plate for the first course, and  between a beef joint with fried potato slices (not french fries) and a selection small fried fish for the second.  (Note- Gallegos refers to the region of Galicia, which is a variation on Gaul, the Roman word for Celtic).  The soup had greens in broth, and tasted like the collard green soup we’ve had in a Cuban restaurant in Tampa.  My veggies were wok-cooked  but tasted like a ratatouille.   We enjoyed both ‘primeros platos’ a lot.  The portions were ample.
We shared the stew and the fried fish, some of which looked like sardines.  But don’t think of canned sardines.  These are much bigger and generally milder.  They were breaded lightly and deep fried.  They must have used very hot oil as they were not too oily.  Though not as small as canned sardines generally are, they are still a bit of a challenge to eat.  They were not de-boned and the small spine was nonetheless to big to eat.  They were kind of fun if you like that sort of thing, like eating crawfish.  The meat was braised and tender. with a delicious light sauce.  The side potatoes were well cooked.
The menu comes with a really good house wine, their own blend of 3 tempranillos.   I think this grape is only or mostly grown in Spain.  Nice body, good fruit.  It went well with everything.
I was full before it, but the menu included dessert.  They make a bunch of them here but the menu includes a choice of an almond cake, which is very Spanish, and a brownie with peanuts, which isn’t- in fact I’ve never heard of it before.  Both were fabulous.  The almond cake was moist and almondy enough and came with a (briefly) flaming sauce.  The brownie was dense and chocolatey but I could not taste the peanuts.  They were finely chopped.
For 2.45 euros, you get a delicious Segafreddo (our favorite, an Italian brand) coffee and after dinner drink.   We got an alcoholic one called “Yerbas” (herbs) and another made of raspberries, but no seeds and no alcohol.  I liked both.  The former was a bit strong for Peg.
The service was very good.  The waitress (the daughter who was filling in for the waiter who was off sick) and the mom, then later the dad, all were right on top of things.  They talked to us, saw to it everything was as it should be, and said a friendly hello and goodbye.
All of this came to 15 euros each.  We’ll take friends there and probably go on our own as well – it’s only four blocks from our apartment, very close to the supermarket we use.
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