Hang On

Roughly two weeks ago, on Tuesday, December 18th, the world as I knew it flipped upside down. I was wrapping up my first semester teaching in Valle Gran Rey, and was preparing for a weeklong Christmas trip to Lisbon. I had been experiencing moderate anxiety for a couple of weeks leading up to that day, but had been unable to pinpoint a source or a trigger. I just woke up one day with that familiar pit in my stomach and couldn’t shake it. Normally, I can chalk it up to hormones or something in the stars, and it eases after a day or two. But this anxiety was different, and settled in my mind in a way I hadn’t experienced since my sophomore year of college. I wrote it off as homesickness and frustration with my ankle injury and tried to move on with my life. When my mom asked to call me that afternoon, I immediately shot down the thoughts in my head that something could be wrong, and told myself she just wanted to talk. After two weeks of anxiousness, I was mentally loaded for bear and was working hard on redirecting unhealthy thought patterns. But just seconds into the phone call, my unexplained uneasiness suddenly had root. My dad had been diagnosed with stage IV pancreatic cancer. 

Thinking back, I’ve never had such a clear turning point in my life. Basically all prior change has been pre-meditated. The events that rolled out after that phone call with my mom were anything but. In the following 24 hours, I canceled my Lisbon plans, booked flights home, alerted those close to me, packed a suitcase, cleaned out my fridge, pleaded for and (thankfully) retrieved a return authorization from the Spanish government office on the other side of the island. By the grace of some all-powerful entity, I found a transatlantic flight for just 350€, despite the fact that I was booking just two days in advance. The JFK-Ohio leg was nearly the same price. I spent 39 hours in transit, completely numb. I hadn’t been expecting a return to the United States until June, and much less one under these circumstances. I had also been planning on avoiding winter for a year, having lost my ironclad Maine cold tolerance completely. But shock and disorientation make for a fine coat. 

I am home now. The days have been slow and gray, with little bright spots here and there. I am relieved to be in the arms of my family, taking in these precious moments with them in our little rural bubble. Nearly everything is different, but a few things remain unchanged. My brother is still making us laugh, my mom is still holding everyone together, and my dad is still first and foremost concerned for everyone else. I have to laugh when he asks me “What’s wrong?!” Of course, I am still the family’s emotional weak link. 

Against my Gemini stellium nature, I’ve had little contact with the outside world—I can’t seem to muster the energy to maintain lengthy text conversations or even answer many messages at all. All of my processing has turned inward. Spiritually, I feel full of mud. I know that I have to seek a “new normal”, but it seems like such an immense effort right now that I’m not yet inspired enough to face. I’ll get there, though—I know people get through times like these by leaning heavily on their spirituality. I welcome any recommendations.

I know for certain I must recapture my sense of gratitude. It will come back to me as things settle down and the seemingly constant flow of bad news stems a bit. For now, I’d like to officially publish a list of the things I am thankful for in this moment.

1. My dad starts chemotherapy tomorrow. I know he will head into this battle with the same optimism and intensity he’s always carried inside. Though it’s going to be a tough road, we’re all relieved that tomorrow is the day we start fighting back. 
2. We have an incredibly supportive network of friends. I always knew that my parents had a lot of connections because they’re nice people and great birdwatchers, but I never fully grasped the sheer number of amazing people who care about my family. Thank you. 
3. I’m so lucky to have had the privilege to race all the way home to Ohio from a tiny rock halfway around the world. And though there’s no good timing for something like this, having it line up almost exactly with my Christmas break is incredibly fortunate.
4. The sun still rises every day, even if Ohio hides it behind gray flannel most of the time. 
5. I am healthy. 
6. Everything in our lives has rapidly been distilled into things that matter and things that don’t (there’s a great Rascal Flatts song about this). Problems and worries that once seemed insurmountable are now entirely irrelevant. Sprained ankles will heal. Money will come back. Happiness should come first whenever possible.
7. I have a sweet, thoughtful, and patient boyfriend who’s certainly gotten more than he bargained for when he invited la americana to watch the sunset back in October, but who has handled every twist with grace and understanding. 
8. I also have a big family of wonderful coworkers waiting to welcome me back to Canarias. Thanks to them, I will leave one home and return to another. 
9. My current anthem: Hang On by Guster. 

Thank you for your time spent reading this journal-entry-turned-blogpost. I’ve been drafting it in my head for a week now to explain tone changes/delays in posting, but I realize it also helps me immensely to distill and transcribe my thoughts. I am grateful for this medium and hope to bring more joy here soon. 

If you would like to keep up with my dad’s story, please visit https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/bt3updates.

Eating in Canarias, Part 2: Out on the Town

Bueno! Now that I’ve chronicled my adventures as a #home #chef (#homechef), it’s time for me to try to describe the experiences I’ve had dining in restaurants here on La Gomera. Though I transited through Tenerife, my experience on other islands is nil. However, this past weekend, I left La Gomera for the first time since early September to attend a meeting, and got to explore another chunk of basalt for a few days. I was very excited to go, but also felt like an octopus clinging to a rock with four tentacles. I was not entirely certain I wanted to leave!

In our pre-departure guidance and orientation, it was stressed over and over again that Spanish social culture revolves around food and drink. That we should never be afraid to apuntarse, AKA to join a group for coffee, dinner, or drinks. Of course, I’ve found this to be spot on, especially in this sleepy little town—time is spent with friends at cafés, restaurants, and bars. The typical American budgeting of only eating out once every week or two is totally incompatible here. Every Thursday evening, a group of at least 6 teachers goes out to eat and have a drink or two. This has been aptly dubbed juernes, which is the combination of jueves (Thursday) + viernes (Friday). Plans are always announced in the group chat, and everyone responds with either “me apunto” (I’m in) or “me quedo” (I’m staying home). I almost always apuntarme, and have kind of been throwing financial caution to the wind in favor of new experiences. I didn’t come to Spain to sit at home alone!

The typical dinner structure is as follows: Once everyone has arrived to the restaurant of choice (usually around 8:30 or 9 pm), one seasoned veteran orders for the table. They typically ask around prior to ordering, but people generally put their faith in this spokesperson and don’t even crack their menus. After ordering, we get bread and mojo to start. Mojo is a staple of Canarian cuisine, and typically comes in two different flavors: red and green. Mojo rojo is made from garlic, vinegar, and peppers, and usually has at least a little bit of a kick. Some restaurants have reputations for having very picante mojo rojo, and someone at the table always gives a warning if that’s the case. Mojo verde, on the other hand, is cilantro-based and mild. Though rojo comes close in some restaurants and has certain niches where it excels, I am a strong verde ally. Bowdoin people: this is a debate on par with that of Moulton versus Thorne.

Los dos mojos--image from spain.info/es

Though the food we order varies on location and attendees, we typically get one or two appetizer-ish dishes and two meat-based entrees. Dishes are placed strategically in the middle of tables, and everyone takes a small portion to try. I still have trouble with this when something is particularly delicious and I feel like I could easily eat the full plate myself (if not two), but I have come to appreciate the method for how many different things I’ve been able to try for the price of one meal. I also think it’s very interesting to watch people share food so regularly—in the US, there’s the classic “you HAVE to try a bite of this”, but that’s just one bite and then it’s back to your regularly scheduled eating. In Spain, I eyeball the dish, lock in on a target, serve myself an appropriate portion (making adjustments if I accidentally take too much), and only go back for more if I’m certain it would be fair. One thing that always makes me laugh is that it seems to be customary to leave one tiny portion on the group plate. I think it’s a symbol of politeness; a candle left in the window for anyone who might want more. But no one EVER eats it. It could be a single chunk of pork loin or steak, or one more spoonful of dessert. People gradually finish chewing, put their silverware down, and carry on conversation as the lone bite chills in the evening breeze (we always eat outside!). I have spent many an hour locked in a stare down with these sad remnants. I’m also apparently not very subtle—if there is significant food left over, it’s usually offered to me. My teacher friends have also learned to interpret my indirect American tap-dancing of “no, I’m good” to mean “yes, I will 100% eat the rest of that.” I feel so seen. 

Without further ado, it’s time for some food description. To start, I’ll detail one of the most typically Canarian meals I’ve had. It blessed my life about a month and a half ago, when my fellow teacher and friend Mariola invited me to go up into the interior of the island with her, her daughter, and her daughter’s friend for a day. We went to La Laguna Grande, which is not actually a big lagoon but instead just an open expanse of grass with no trees. A lot of people go there to hold barbecues and picnics, but one of the main draws is the restaurant. I knew I was in for something good because Mariola is one of my favorite people to dine with—as a native Gomeran, she knows exactly what to order, and also always advocates for ordering more food for our dinner groups just to be safe. 

Of course, we started off with bread and mojo, but soon after, I was introduced to one of the loves of my life: queso asado. Queso asado is basically a triangle of super fresh goat cheese that has been roasted/grilled to perfection, such that the exterior is browned and the whole thing is slightly smokey and really flavorful. It’s often topped with mojo or miel de palma (palm honey), which is a Canarias staple. Queso asado is typically just consumed straight up with a fork and knife, which always makes me feel like I’m getting away with something because Americans rarely consume large quantities of cheese without some sort of medium (fries, chips, crackers, etc). However, I’ve also had it in bites throughout a walnut and arugula salad dressed with miel de palma… Oh lord. 

You could play Canary Islands bingo with this picture: queso asado, almogrote, mojo verde y rojo, and a gofio treat all in one!

Our next dish was one that I can confidently say was one of the more peculiar things I’ve consumed: chicharrones con gofio. You’ve heard of pork cracklings—now, imagine them hidden under mounds of floury roasted grains mixed with a little sugar. When each forkful enters your mouth, you’re first almost choked by the gofio, which is the consistency of powdered sugar. It’s slightly sweet with a wholesome grainy undertone, and dissolves quickly. You then feel the heat of the pork crackling (insulated by the topping), and taste the rich and savory flavor set off by the touch of sweetness from the gofio. Though I wasn’t entirely sure if I really liked it or not, I could not stop eating it. My current preference for consuming gofio is in a dessert mousse, but people here use it to top soups, mix into smoothies, and hold together terrines. It’s nearly impossible to imagine until you’ve tried it. I ate a gofio-based cookie the other day, and the closest flavor I could think of was really good cereal milk. Below is a video courtesy of my friend Gara, who toured a gofio factory today and recorded the entire process!

                                                            

Chicharrones con gofio--image from La Abeja News

After drowning myself in pork fat and gofio, we moved on to the first main dish, which is rather universal but executed extremely well in Canarias: chicken breast in a mushroom sauce. Pechuga de pollo en salsa de champiñón. Oh man, do they know how to serve chicken here!! This is a staple at most restaurants, and it’s hard to go wrong ordering it. It typically comes with rice and some roasted/sauteéd vegetables, and always has potatoes on the side. You get your choice of fries or papas arrugadas, which is the typical Canarian preparation (wrinkled with salt). We usually opt for fries which we can drag through the remaining mushroom sauce, while arrugadas are best enjoyed with mojo or even almogrote (a pâté made from hard cheese, olive oil, peppers, and garlic).

A classic dinner plate--image from Pizzería da Luiggi on Tenerife

Following the chicken in quick succession was an enormous bowl of puchero, which is a traditional Canarian stew. The recipes seem to follow an “everything but the kitchen sink” policy, and every spoonful brought me something different. Chickpeas, pumpkin, squash, beef, chicken, pork, green beans, sweet and white potatoes, carrots, and more, with a corn cob to finish it all off. Everything was totally tender and harmonized perfectly. Since it was my first puchero, I was given the honor of eating the corn. One pot of this could probably feed me for a week! I want to attempt it soon, but I’m not sure I have a pot big enough. 

Image from hiperdino.es

To finish off our meal, we ordered leche asada covered in miel de palma. This dessert is very similar to flan, but slightly less uniformly dense, which allows the miel de palma to infuse it all with sweetness. As I mentioned earlier, another popular dessert is mousse, which comes in many different flavors—gofio, passionfruit, chocolate, and mango. It’s always a nice, (texturally) light way to assuage my sweet tooth… And I love seeing it on English translation menus. 

Image (and recipe!) at cookpad.com

tag yourself I'm cocolate Mouse

This post really ran away from me, but in the best kind of way. Of course, I’ve only described a portion of what I’ve experienced, and have so much more to tell! I am now being frequently fed by a Canarian mom, and let’s just say I reaaaaallllyyyyy need my ankle to heal so I can get back to running ASAP and counterbalance things a little bit. 

¡Buen provecho!