Aceitunas, abuelas, y más; or, Yo amo España (Week 2 edition)

One of a few plazas in downtown Rota, Spain
It's only 1:30 pm, so no Spaniards are eating yet. Lunch for them is around 2-4 pm. 

The husband and I spent Monday through Thursday of this week, from 8:30 until 3 pm or so, going to required classes, also known as ICR. InterCultural Relations included presentations from at least 15 different commands, with information ranging from car/pet ownership, to environmental concerns, to how to buy a car, pay auto taxes, check on household goods, etc. It seemed to be never-ending, but was overall something we appreciated. It is often befuddling navigating a new culture, even if we do speak the language (but definitely not the dialect). The majority of our class was taught by Rosa, a Rota native who was a great teacher and endless fount of knowledge.

Aceitunas, flores, y ropa: olives, flowers, and clothing at
Rota's weekly gypsy market

Wednesday the kids tagged along because we went into downtown Rota, including lunch of tapas at a nice restaurant, a tour of the town church and palace in the historical center, and a drive around in a big bus to get our bearings of various businesses, parks, and historical landmarks in this area. Nothing shouts "we are daring!" (or "we are crazy Americans!") like a tour bus barreling through narrow, one-way streets. We still aren't sure if we are going to live here or in another nearby town, the larger Puerto de Santa María, but it is sure nice to have someone who grew up here to give us her perspective on the area, as well as her take on the culture and history of Andalucía.

We found ourselves at the Gypsy Market for the second time in a couple of weeks, and this time, we ordered fresh olives from a vendor. Our youngest paid attention to his Spanish lesson during the day, and I was very proud of him when he ordered "un medio de la abuela," or a half kilo of a type of olive nicknamed "the secret of grandma," or simply shortened to "the grandma." Oh. Em. Geeee. I wasn't a fan of olives before moving to Spain, but I have learned quickly that there are olives, and then there are Spanish olives. It's like a whole new animal. (Or vegetable. Or, technically, a fruit). In other words, they are ah-ma-zing.

In addition to learning how to order from the market, we learned many things about our new country, including driving laws.  How's this for signs?

Just a smattering of our various street signs

The good news is my husband and I are both licensed drivers in the EU! The bad news is all those laws we learned are not necessarily followed by the locals (including those pertaining to Spain's ubiquitous traffic circles). As our instructor, another Rota native, said, there are traffic laws, and then there is reality. "Just drive safely." Okay, well then. . .

As my oldest so smartly pointed out, we are in Spain,  and like the rest of the world---with the exception of Germany----sometimes traffic laws are mere suggestions.

Both Spaniards and Americans work on base. In fact, 70% of the hires on base are Spanish, per the SOFA. Here are some of my favorite quotes---can you guess which one is from an American? Some funny stuff here:

"Nobody celebrates the Fourth of July like Spaniards!"

"If the paperwork is complete, you get your car in ten minutes. If there are problems, I think maybe one month."

"You need your blue tourist passport to travel to Gibraltar, which belongs to the UK, unfortunately."

"Andalucians just drop off the end of all words to save time." And heard daily: "¡Adió! (instead of Adiós) and ¡Gracia! (instead of Gracias).

Overall, four days isn't a lot to give up to learn about everything from insurance to the best wines from this region, so with our newfound knowledge, we are moving onwards and making the best of our new Spanish home.