The Engorgement

By the time I come home, I will be as round as a ball. Seriously, someone is going to have to roll me home like the blueberry girl in Willy Wonka. Unfortunately, the food here is amazing and my Señora feeds me a ridiculous amount of it every day. She starts out small, just a couple of muffins and a cup of coffee for breakfast. However, by lunchtime she seems to have convinced herself that I will die of starvation unless she does something about it. Doing something about it involves a constant stream of “¡Pon más! ¡Ponte más, mi niña!” I try my best to dissuade her by telling her from the very first that I’m not that hungry, but to no avail. She will load me up with whatever lovely fried thing we’re having that day and then watch me like a hawk, ready to pile more on my plate as soon as I get close to finishing. My objections of “no tengo hambre” or “no puedo comer más” are useless in the face of her solicitude for my wellbeing. I am obviously not eating enough if I only have three helpings of soup or only half a loaf of bread or only two servings of kiwi, cucumber, tomato and olive oil salad. I really should have more!

Having struggled my way through the main meal, I have to switch tactics to try to prevent dessert. As quickly as possible in my state of food-induced stupor, I grab my plate and silverware and waddle to the kitchen. However, I’m not quick enough for her, she’s way ahead of me, ordering me in no uncertain terms to bring out dessert when I come back. Usually dessert consists of a cup of flan or several oranges, apples or pears. I’m amazed at how quickly she can down oranges! By the time I finish peeling my first one, she’s just swallowing her second or third. However, she always makes sure to save at least four for me…If possible I just eat two and hold my ground against all urging to finish the rest. When I do manage to resist, she’ll slowly and sadly gather up the remaining fruit, try once more to get me to “cométela!” and then shuffle back to the kitchen in her slippers to put the fruit away for another day. I’m learning (as my Spanish culture instructor says) to “eat first and ask later” but sometimes I admit to being a little put off by the food here. It’s always delicious once I convince myself that I can indeed take the little fish by the tail, remove the backbone and chomp it down, but it takes some work.

Right now, I’m in dread of the pile of purple tentacley things that were soaking in a bowl of water when I went into the kitchen this evening. They’ve moved from the sink to the fridge…ominous, very ominous. I imagine that they will turn up tomorrow as a delicacy – fried purple tentacles (everything is either fried or soaked in olive oil) as a treat for me and her daughter at lunch tomorrow. From what I’ve gathered, her daughter and son-in-law are coming to lunch tomorrow. It should be interesting because it will probably mean that she will stay longer than 10 or 15 minutes. The other two times I’ve seen her daughter it’s been a flurry of kisses and loud, rapid-fire Spanish between her and her mom, a conversation which I at first thought must be angry (the tone and volume seeming to indicate so) but have since figured out is entirely friendly based on the frequent burst of laughter. No smiles, mind you, just laughter. It’s very confusing. However, the conversation is never long…she’s gone in a flash as soon as her husband/fiancé/boyfriend/dude shows up. I’m really not sure what their relationship is, I’ve heard him referred to as so many different things. I’m beginning to think they must be married; I’ll have to find out for sure tomorrow. Speaking of which, I’m getting tired (all that food!) and am thinking of going to sleep. Goodnight, or really for you it’s just good evening. Either way, I hope it’s a good one, free of purple tentacles!

Since writing the above, I've eaten the tentacles. Fried, fortunately, so they didn't taste bad at all. It's just the texture that gets to me. However, I am getting good at eating whatever she puts in front of me, purple and gross looking or not!