Cordonices are very little

Yesterday I was sitting outside a cafe in Palencia with Manolo drinking iced tea, and two women in summer dresses walked by. Manolo said, "Palentinas guapas" (attractive Palencian women), as if he was pointing out a well-known feature of the city. I answered, "que tia mas buenas," and he nodded, a gesture that said, "just so." The night before he had taught me this phrase, which can be roughly translated as "she´s hot" (substitute "tia" with "tio" and "buenas" with "buenos" and you get "he´s hot"). We had been watching some celebrity news on the kitchen television while eating cordonices, little birds not much bigger than sparrows, when a blonde woman with boyfriend troubles exited an apartment to too much media attention. At this moment Manolo thought to share the useful phrase, which I had then trotted out on an appropriate occasion the very next day. Thus does my Spanish improve.

But I don´t improve without embarassing moments. Earlier in the day yesterday, I accompanied Manolo to Osorno, a town near to and larger than Espinosa, so he could visit the bank. While he talked to someone for some time (Manolo does nothing in a hurry), I sat and read a magazine about agriculture in Spain. I learned the words apenas (scarcely), ejes (axis), and temer (to be afraid). I hope to soon use one or more in a sentence. Anyway, that´s an aside and beside the point, though words are the topic. On the way back we stopped in Espinosa at the Ayuntamiento (local government office; every town has one), and sat down in a small office with three men. Manolo explained that one of them, Juan Carlos (and interestingly there was a portrait of the royal Juan Carlos on the wall) was the "caldo," or as one the other men put in, the "jefe del pueblo." I said "entiendo" and nodded. The men proceeded to discuss plans for an August fiesta (which will coincide with celebrations for both Manolo and Juan Carlos´ fiftieth birthdays), and I sat quietly, happy to try to follow but not to be expected to participate in the conversation.

I had recognized Juan Carlos, but I couldn´t remember from when (turns out it was from the dinner in Amusco my first night in Spain back in May), and so when we were back outside I asked Manolo how I knew the caldo. Manolo gave me a quizzical look, a "what the hell are you talking about?" expression that he is kind enough to only rarely bestow upon me. I repeated the problematic word, "caldo," and after a few silent moments of interpretive work, Manolo understood and said, "ah, no--alcalde," which means "mayor." Caldo, on the other hand, as I discovered when I consulted my diccinario, means "consomme" or "stock" (I´d been offered it as a primero in more than one restuarante on the Camino). Manolo´s confusion was understandable, as there is little apparent connection between town administration and soup.

Late in the afternoon yesterday we drove to Valladolid, which is where I am now. Manolo and Montse have an apartment, or piso, in the suburbs, and Maite and Sergio live just down the street in another piso. This makes it easy for Montse to care for baby Sara during the week while Maite and Sergio are at work.

Vallodolid is a huge city, the largest in the large province of Castilla y Leon. Here, and in all the Spanish cities I´ve visited, the word "suburbs" means something quite different than in the States. It does refer to the outskirts, and to new construction, but rather than single family dwellings, the wide streets are lined with tall, brick apartment buildings, six and seven stories tall. The street-level space is occupied by mostly small shops and restaurantes and cafe-bars all along the streets. Big construction cranes loom over these suburbs as more and more of the apartment buildings go up. All over Spain people are flocking in from the countryside to the cities, and it´s to these apartments that they are moving. In the evening last night I went for a walk in the neighborhood, downhill towards the wide Rio Pisuerga. Everywhere people were out, walking, playing with children, exercising their dogs (who were all on leashes, thank you), and gathering in small plazas and parks to sit and talk. Down at the river couples sat on benches making out, while other couples, a little further along in the process, walked by pushing baby strollers. The architecture might be different than in the villages or old city centers, but the social swirl seems little changed by the new living arrangements.

Back at the piso, I sat down to dinner with Manolo and Monte at a tiny table in the kitchen. Earlier Manolo had told me that he prefers to be in Espinosa, and I agree; their apartment is not much lived in yet and does not have the homey feel of the village house. Security is tight, and when we´d arrived he´d had to use several keys to get through a number of doors, grumbling that he didn´t need "llaves" in Espinosa. For dinner, Montse served baked fish (a whole lubina each) with scalloped potatoes. She put out a plate of sliced tomatoes too, after pouring olive oil on top.

After the meal, she asked if I´d liked the fish, and I said, "si, me gusta mucho." She said, with a skeptical look, "te gusta todos" (you like everything). And it´s true, every meal she asks me if I have liked whatever we ate, and everytime I say yes, me gusta. Which is pretty much always true, and when in the rare case that it´s not, what am I supposed to say? Still, I get her point. I could be a little more discerning. I thought about how Alix gets annoyed when she shows me a new piece of clothing and I say "yeah, it´s nice." People want more distinctive answers to such questions.

After dinner we three sat in the living room and watched an American disaster movie in which meteors threaten the United States not once but three times (the good guy from the first Terminator was in it). Montse brought out a big bag of sunflower seeds and two bowls for the shells and put them on the coffee table. She and Manolo sat close together on one end of the courch and talked quietly to each other through nearly all of the action. I found the commercials, which are all for cars, cell phones, and beverages, more entertaining than the film.