Office Hours

Today I went to my history professor’s office hours, which, now that I think about it, is the first time I’ve done that here in Spain. I went to present a book that I read, as part of the final grade includes reading a book from the bibliography and discussing it for twenty minutes with him. Even though this class bores me slightly, I love the professor—he’s young and always saying things like joder and coño, two words I’m pretty sure are neither academic nor relevant to the class material.

What started out as a book review quickly turned into a lively discussion about environmental policy, US politics, and then later, life in general. He told me that he had studied one year in Michigan, so of course the topic quickly turned to American culture. He said his favorite grocery store there was Trader Joes (which promptly reminded me how much I’m craving their chocolate section, and we both reminisced about their delectable array of prepared foods), and how the most shocking thing of his life was entering a McDonald’s and seeing an obese man sitting alone, downing a burger in less than ten minutes. (And here I am, thinking….Ten minutes? It took him that long?) It was so interesting to have this cultural reflection with him. He simply could not grasp the fact that someone would eat a midday meal alone (McDonald’s here in Spain is a family place, he said), and the sheer size of the people in the restaurant blew him away.

Of course, as Spain would have it, one food conversation led to another, and I suddenly found my professor drawing me a handmade map, marking his favorite tapas bar right near my new piso. I couldn’t get over how typically Andalusian this was—go in for a book review, spend three minutes talking about the text and then 17 just chatting and discussing the culinary delights of this little city. He raved about the fresh fish portions at this bar, and how you can even ask for gazpacho (a chilled tomato soup) as your drink instead of a beer! I walked out of his office 20 minutes later, assured of a high grade and the exact location of Bar de Julio, clutching his homemade map in hand. It’s no McDonald’s, but I guess I’ll give it a try!