We are making some headway in our ability to shop in the local markets, but we are never completely sure what we will get when we place our orders. More often than not, when we order food in a restaurant, we are served something totally different than what we thought we were ordering. It is because of this that we are learning to embrace the restaurants that serve a Menu del Día (a set lunch menu, usually about 8-10 Euros). Since we don't know what most of the food is anyway, we don't have to waste time pretending to interpret the menu and we are usually served the best of the restaurant's offerings for that day - it's a great system.
Speaking of restaurants presenting communication issues for us, on Monday we took a day trip up into the mountains to Teruel. It was a chilly, windy day so we spent the majority of our time in cafes and restaurants waiting for our train back to Valencia. We stopped for lunch at a wonderful little restaurant off the plaza. As we were leaving, Caroline needed to use the restroom and asked me to join her. Luckily, the place was pretty crowded so I agreed to go with her (we have been working on letting her go alone if the restroom is within sight). As we tried to leave the restroom, we noticed that the doorknob was broken off the door and we had no way to get out! UGH! Because of the crowd, my door pounding could not be heard and I had to use my cell phone to call Bill, who was waiting outside with Henry.
As Caroline began to panic inside with me, Bill tried frantically to tell the restaurant manager that his wife and daughter were stuck in the bathroom (under stress, it is pretty difficult to recall what you have learned about speaking a foreign language!). We could hear them yelling outside the door - which only increased Caroline's anxiety - as they tried to figure out a way to get the door opened. In what I can only imagine as desperation, the manager decided to kick the door open to get us out, so he had to try to communicate to Bill that he would need to phone me to tell us to stand clear of the door. Fortunately, there was just enough room to move away from the door (most of the public Spanish restrooms are TINY), and after a few strikes, the splintered door came flying in. The manager was extremely apologetic and we left amidst stares and murmurs from the remaining patrons (¡Qué triste americanas!). Such DRAMA!
I can't believe how flippant I was about picking up and moving to a foreign country - where we knew no one, didn't speak the language and knew nothing about the culture and customs. I think we made a bigger deal out of moving from the suburbs to downtown Chicago than we did about coming to Spain! There have been a few days - when the language seems completely jumbled and it feels like someone has moved all of the streets around on us - that I have felt defeated and overwhelmed, but those days are rare. That being said, though, I am very proud of the strides we have made and the efforts we will continue to make. Aside from the obvious benefits of growth and education we are all experiencing, the mental exhaustion is helping me sleep very soundly at night, and that's a wonderful thing!