Paella en el Campo

The following weekend was quite different. On Saturday I attended a “Paella en el campo” (el campo=the countryside). I happen to be a big fan of both paella and the countryside, so I eagerly accepted the invitation. Ana, a woman in choir, invited us. She is a kind, warm, Sevillian woman with three sons (ages 28ish, 23ish, and 17), two of whom are in choir as well. It was her birthday, so she invited some people from choir to her pueblo. This town, Carrión de los Cespedes (cesped=lawn, grass), is where her parents are from, where she was born, where she spent summers as a kid, and where she goes for weekends and summers now. The town is about thirty miles outside of Sevilla, and the four Germans and I met up to be driven by Ana and her husband to the cabin. I was pleased to see that I was the only American in attendance. I have been getting to know the Germans in choir, so I was glad to have an opportunity to really bond with them. The Germans are Michel, the one guy, Rebecca, Manuela, and Hannah. Hannah is the one I’m closest to, and she was key in my invitation. She is super nice, and cute and stylish (short blonde hair and a red jacket!) and she loves to laugh and does so easily. Other guests included Paco, an elderly bass in choir, Elena and Franci[sco], also in choir, and their four-year-old son Massimo, a couple who met in choir as students (the woman is Italian and was studying abroad, her husband is Spanish) but no longer attend it, and their three-month-old baby boy, among others. We arrived at Ana’s cabin, which is hidden by a gate which opens onto a lemon-tree lined dirt road to the house. The house is adorable, think Pochet for those of you who can, with a little fireplace and little bedrooms and the wonderful smell of mothballs and must. There is a front yard complete with a swimming pool, full of many months worth of green rainwater. Hannah and I played with Massimo as the others began preparing Paella. Massimo is a wonderful, adorable, outgoing little boy who happens to look strikingly like Patrik, a little boy I babysat all through high school. It always baffles me how well children speak Spanish. I’ve been studying Spanish for eight years, Massimo is only four, yet he can use imperfect subjunctive vosotros without having to stop and think. Per his mother’s cue, he showed off the English phrases he knows, with a thick Andalusian accent: Chhhhello! Wherrre arrrre yous? Vye-vye!!! We read books and kicked a soccer ball around the driveway, and it felt so good to be around children again. We all helped with the paella prep (if it weren’t for me the paella would be slightly under-tomatoed) while Massimo’s dad Franci and his cousin set up the “grill.” Ana has a gigantic paella pan, which she keeps in the garden shed, that required hosing off. This pan was placed on a paella pan holder, which was plugged into a tank of some kind of gas. Massimo’s dad manned the spatula as I watched exactly how to prepare my favorite food in the world. This day was absolutely perfect. We ate all the paella we possibly could, sat with our feet in the pool (after removing the semi-decomposed, flattened hedgehog), Ana brought our several straw hats for the fair-skinned Germans and me (I left with a great tan), we simply relaxed all afternoon. The beauty of it was the English was not an option. For the first time since I’ve been here, I spent an entire day speaking in Spanish (with the exception of trying out everyone’s favorite German song, “Lachen [uber das feld],” which none of the Germans knew). The entire day was just so Spanish. Later in the afternoon, Ana made a pot of coffee and brought out some cookies. Franci fetched his guitar and embarked on playing and singing some Spanish songs. Ana, Paco, and Franci’s cousin sang along, and several of the Spaniard accompanied him with the appropriate clapping rhythms. I tried out a few that I’ve learned in Flamenco class, none of which were correct. This was the perfect Spanish day and the perfect summer day rolled into one. After a couple more hours, the youngins decided to go for a walk. Ana led the Germans and I on what ended up to be a long walk through the town. We were walking back around 9:00 at night, and it was just so peaceful. The moon was out, we could see the stars, hear the crickets (or maybe I added that part), and smell the sweet Andalucian air. The sky was a beautiful deep blue, and I was so content. Hannah and I agreed that this day was the highlight of our time here so far. As Ana packed up the leftover paella to bring home to her hungry sons, we picked lemons off the trees to our heart’s content, as Ana instructed, to bring home. I still have a bag full of fragrant, organic lemons, with which I have no idea what I’m going to do, but they’ve made their way into tea and Carmen’s baked goods. This day was one to remember.

Fotos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2008994&id=1232310007&l=2291121e46