Location: Pamplona (Iruña), Navarra, España
Soul Site: Santa María La Real Cathedral of Pamplona
Alimentos: Garroticos from Pastas Beatriz
Highlight: The very, very old kitchen + views of Pamplona
Dear Pop Pop,
Hello! I am writing you a letter hoping it will reach you in Colorado faster than the postcards. I have so much to tell you. I almost can’t believe it, but today marks exactly six months of living in Spain!
First, I started a cooking workshop two weeks ago. The class meets every Tuesday night for eight weeks. In each two-hour session, we learn how to create appetizers and “tapas” to serve at dinners and parties. Some of the tapas are cooked, some are cold, and (mostly) all are delicious. I’ve already enjoyed chopping veggies up into a Spanish ratatouille (“pisto”) to stuff into grilled mushrooms (“champis”) and making pear and gorgonzola-filled fried tarts (“empanadillas”). And we’ve decided to elect someone to bring a loaf of bread and wine to each session, so my Tuesday dinners are spoken for! I think this class will be a good way to squeeze in some extra Spanish practice. Though my listening comprehension has vastly improved this year, I am not speaking as often as I had hoped during the weeks.
Second, these days, I’m reflecting on where I really am after six months. I think I have reached some of the goals I initially set for myself, even far surpassed them, such as feeling comfortable “fending for myself” in a foreign environment alone and becoming a bit more laid-back. With others though, like with my speaking fluency, I feel like I have lagged behind. Maybe because I am timid or lack confidence and in those moments I feel afraid to take risks. But I am so self-aware, and that makes it very easy to criticize myself. It’s harder to give myself credit for how far I have come. It’s easy to forget that living normal life on a Saturday morning here in town is every bit as much of an adventure as hopping on a plane to a tropical island because my role is to be here in Logrono, exploring and absorbing this year. I am less meant to be in an airport or on a train, more meant to be walking in the park, turning a corner on Gran Vía, and frying champiñones in the kitchen. My role doesn’t have to be grand or cinematic. In these final months, I want to remember that being here and with these people is enough. Maybe my impact is to do “small things with great love,” like St. Mother Teresa so perfectly put it. So I’m going to keep working on that, now that I’m really in the thick of it.
Third, I have to tell you about the Mid-Year Conference! Fulbright hosted my entire cohort at the University of Navarra a few weeks ago. This seminar was our official marker of the midpoint of our grant years here in Spain. The ~200 grantees took planes, trains, and automobiles (and buses, and maybe ferries and taxis, too) from every corner of the country to touch down in Pamplona and take some time to re-connect, re-invigorate our teaching and research, and reflect on these same sentiments I have begun to share with you: Where are we right now? And why?
The days were jam-packed. From catching up with friends from Orientation during daily all-you-can-eat breakfasts to guest speakers, to 15-minute presentations from grantees about everything from beekeeping in the Canary Islands, to Andorra’s culture, to manual photography in Galicia, to ambassadresses (female ambassadors) in the 17th century, to optimal decision-making, to the structure of support systems for unaccompanied immigrant children in Spain versus in the United States… to group cocktails, to debate-style reflections on the grant, to a working session about Second Language Acquisition theory and practice… and a talent show featuring the first-ever immersive whistle choir and the La Rioja cohort ending the show with a tortilla-throwing interpretation of Lizzie McGuire’s “This Is What Dreams Are Made Of”…I left feeling overwhelmed with awe for the brilliance of my cohort, inspiration to support my fellow grantees (whom I now consider lifelong friends), and empowerment to more creatively build excitement about language learning for my students.
The final event of the conference was a guided tour of Pamplona’s Cathedral, Catedral de Santa María la Real de Pamplona. It’s a 15th century Gothic church with an interesting Neoclassical façade from the late 18th century. I was excited to see the inside because when I visited Pamplona for a day in late November, I didn’t have the chance to get inside. The two most interesting points on this tour were a layered plexiglass model of the Cathedral that allowed viewers to see different interiors in motion with the light of a phone shone at different angles and distances, and the kitchen.
Our guide told us this kitchen dates back to the 1330s, making it either the oldest (or one of the oldest) and maybe the only monastery/cathedral kitchen you can visit, in Spain, or all of Europe—I admittedly didn’t catch the exact factoid for you. But I remember standing and staring up at the 27-meter chimney, surrounded by the other Fulbrighters whispering to each other making plans to meet up again, or simply absorbing, balking up at the same stony view. It was a strangely cozy space, that kitchen. And I was thinking, Wow. We’re really doing it. We’re really in the kitchen now.
The “kitchen” being “the thick of it.” We’re deeply involved. We're in the middle of the action.
At this halfway point, we’ve ceased to be spectators. What we do daily has begun to define us more than we expected, I think, and it has messed with our plans. It's shaken up our perspectives, tweaked our goals, and made us care about things differently. I am speaking for myself here, but I would strongly suppose that many of my friends would agree. I feel like I have left the restaurant table and am chopping carrots at the counter, slamming the cabinets open and shut, heating up oil in the pan. It kind of happened before I knew it, but here we are. Six months in, and I’m on dish duty at last.
Before I left Pamplona, I wandered away from my friends to find a special pastry from Pastas Beatriz that I had tried when I briefly visited in November. These garroticos are emblematic of Pamplona, according to both my friends and the bakery’s website. So this time, I wanted to find them for myself. I entered and watched the counterwoman spinning around the kitchen in the back before flying through the swinging doors to weigh out a quarter kilo of the most divine pastries I have tried thus far. I grabbed my bag of chocolate-filled, laminated squares of delight, waved goodbye, and snuck in a bite or two on my race back to grab my suitcase at the hotel. Smears of melted chocolate undoubtedly decorated my face, but I didn't care. I was happy. I knew I was headed back on the bus to Logroño, right back into the kitchen.
I’m excited to find out what I can manage to cook up. Oh, and I wanted to see if I could send you a box of the garroticos, but I was warned that the smell is so unmistakable around Navarra and the rest of Northern Spain that, without doubt, they would have been stolen in transport and would never make it to Denver. So, I guess you’ll just have to imagine.
I miss you and the mountains, and I can’t wait to see you this summer.
Sending all my love from the kitchen,
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