The Inner Circle

Human Highlighter Suit Tally: 6

When we traveled to Barcelona last December/January during our holiday break to check out neighborhoods and schools, we swapped houses with a Barcelona family.  In setting up the exchange, we corresponded by email and once talked by phone but had never met them.  About a week ago, an email message popped in to my inbox from Nerea.  “Have you arrived in Barcelona?, “she inquired. “Is there anything we can help you with? Our boys would love to meet Carmen and Milo—will you come for a meal to our home?” So on Sunday, we went for lunch to their home—which was a little strange only because we had cooked in their kitchen, slept in their beds, bathed in their tub.  The kids knew where all of the toys were and went straight for them, making themselves at home.

Nerea, who is Basque, and Iu, who is Catalan, served up a fabulous Catalan meal, starting with white asparagus, and a salad of mache, figs and fresh cheese.  Iu cooked an “arroz”—a rice.  We would probably call it a paella, but here there is a whole range of cooked rice dishes.  This was a seafood arroz, beginning, as many dishes here do, with a sofrito—a mix of onion, tomato and garlic finely diced and cooked slowly in oil until it becomes a thick, brownish sauce.  The sofrito was simmering on the stove when we arrived and it smelled heavenly.  When it’s done, the ingredients have melded to such a great extent that you can’t distinguish what’s in it by looking at it.  You have to use your taste buds, and your nose.  The rice is added to the sofrito and then cooked almost like a risotto, with cups of seafood stock (homemade of course) added and cooked until the rice absorbs the liquid.  The shrimp, clams and mussels are added and kept on the heat until just cooked.  The result is a dense, rich dish redolent of the sea.  Comfort food.  We had cake, and then chocolates, and then coffee.  And more cava.

We sat and ate for hours, talking about politics, food, places we need to visit during our year here.  They invited us to use their country home in Basque country.  People describe the Catalan culture as one that is difficult to penetrate.  It´s difficult to get to know someone well, but once you are in, you are in for life.  In contrast, Americans are seen as very easy to get to know superficially, but it often ends there.  We felt extraordinarily welcomed by Iu and Nerea—perhaps because they had lived in our home and vice versa.  It seems as though our home exchange experience got us entry into the inner circle.

We learned this first when, shortly after we arrived in Barcelona, we got together with Alec’s stepmother’s cousin (Olga) and her husband (Borge).  You may be familiar with them from other posts.  During this first meeting, we mentioned that we were looking to buy a used car and asked Borge if he had any advice.  He immediately offered us one of his cars.  For the year.  For free.  And all because, it seems, we are family.  It does not matter whether we know each other.  We are connected, and that’s that.  We did end up buying our own car, but given how long it took between plunking down the deposit and turning the key, it was a good thing we were able to borrow Borge’s car for the year.  So it’s beginning to feel like we have some people here, and it feels good.