Peased y Pan

I had the highest hopes of beginning this story with my how I have new bakery friends- but THAT will have to wait. I have just sat down at the table. My family is in the room, playing video games, listening to Katy Perry at a deafening level on the other computer speakers. Andreita and Andrea are talking and laughing, and I realized they are talking to me. I kinda laugh, not knowing what´s being said because my head is swimming with Katy P, and I know it will be followed by Metro Station...(I can only hope the Jonas Brother´s are skipped on this play list). Finally, Andreita asks me something I definitely do not understand. The conversation went something like this:

Andrieta ¨Who peased on hour rag?¨ This was in English, because I didn´t get it in Spanish, either.
Me ¨What??? What did you ask me?¨
Andreita ¨Who.Peased.On.Hour:Rag?¨ Rag??? tú sabes?¨
Me ¨Andrieta (laughing) I don´t know wha- No me intende. ¿Que?
Andrea (mama) ¨Peased, Courrrney, PEASED.¨
Brother ¨haha, Peased. (To mother and sister) A ella no le sabe, haha.¨
Me ¨¿Que te dijiste? Como es Peased? I don´t understand what you are telling me.
---Everyone is laughing at this point. I look like a fool, and they might even be laughing at me. I finally get what PEASED is when Andreita makes the sitting-on-the-toilet gesture and immatates peeing.

Me ¨Oh!!! Pissed. Wait...Who pissed on my rag?
Andreita ¨Si. ¿Quien?
Me ¨Uh, what? No one pissed on my rag. What rag? What is a rag?
Andreita & Andrea simultaneously ¨RAG!!!!!!!¨
Me ¨I DON´T GET IT. WHAT IS RAG??? WHY ARE WE ALL YELLING???
Andrea(mama) ¨Que?¨
---Andrieta has to explain to her mom what I have just yelled in English. I have no clue what´s going on in this conversation at this point. I´m not sure what or where my rag is or WHO the hell pissed on it. Finally Andrea walks out side and picks up my RUG that I gave her yesterday because there seemed to be a puddle of PEE on it.

Me to everyone ¨RUG!!!!!!!! Ah, who pissed on my rug? Not Rag, Andrieta R-U-G!¨
Andrieta¨ That is what I said.¨
---Oh blast, I blamed the pee pee stain on her and everyone laughed.

The real answer to the question ¿Quien PEASED en tu fombra? or Who pissed on your rug?
---The damn dog

Now that the Mystery of the Yellow Stain has been resolved, I can get back to how I have Panaderia friends.

I was working on Thursday at Casa Regina, where in days passed I was called names and punched. Thursday was looking pretty uneventful and one of the other people there asked me if I wanted to go to the Panaderia with her. One of the other residents works at this bakery and she wanted to say hi and see how his day was. I´m never one to pass up an opportunity to expand my knowledge of the city and perhaps get some bread out of it.

The short walk brings us the the Panaderia I pass daily on the way to the gym. (Okay, not daily, but maybe 2 or 3 times a week). I am always tempted to skip the gym and dive head first into the bin of baked goods, but there is ALWAYS an absurd line. It was my thought that this town outta get another Panaderia. (Later I will find out that there are PLENTY of other Panaderia´s in Villa Allende and that this one is the oldest, having been around for nearly 100 years- and DUH white girl, simply the best one in this town).

We walk in and Silvia, the woman I have arrived with, exchanges some friendly words with the gentleman behind he counter. I have not understood one thing she said since we left. I actually don´t think she was speaking Spanish, because oddly enough, I can understand most things spoken to me here. (By the way, upon entering this marvelous place of which I imagine Heaven will smell like, I´m sure I gained a minimum of 10 pounds- You could almost FEEL the butter seeping in through your pores, YUM). He looks at me, smiles, and we all walk to the back. I am not expecting this, but end up getting the grand tour. Backs of restaurants or kitchens of delis are nothing new to me. With my Pops in the food business, I have seen almost every restaurant in Albuquerque from back to front, all before the age of 10. I was constantly late in elementary school due to the 7am visits to the Bagel Shop in Rio Rancho- No problem for me, I always left with a NYC style bagel, bigger than my face.

I learn the man, named Sergio, is one of the owners- his wife being the other. He is nothing short of a linebacker past his prime. It is quite possible that this man ate a loaf of bread and fresh pastries daily for 20 years. We got to talking, laughed at me being American, spoke of Global Warming, and laughed at Silvia, for speaking in a Spanish that I couldn´t understand.

I tell him of my fond addiction to Dulce de Leche, the sweet goodness they put on bread and crackers, in pastries, the flavor of ice cream, and keep in the fridge which I constantly dip my finger in and run away in my house. It is kind of like a Nutella, only the color and consistency of Carmel, and an extraordinary flavor. He laughs and says I will be fat in the future. (I didn´t find this funny). A few moments later, a woman, of approximately the same size enters the kitchen. She has a presence that demands cooperation, looks like she could snap her husband in half, command an army of 10,000, and give you the beast bear hug you could ever want. She is the Señora of the house, Lucy. She looks at me and asks my name. I have stepped foot in her kitchen and I´m not too sure of she likes it. She might kill me and put me in the dough for tomorrows bread. (Which would be delicious, I may add). Instead, she asks where I am from, I make a silly joke and she laughs until hey eyes water. We talk of the history of the bakery and that it was her grandfathers. I say my great grandfather owned a butcher shop. (I am almost positive this is accurate, but if anyone from my family can correct me, by all means...) We laugh, and I say that I like meet. And Wine. This is where the friendship blooms into BFF status. We speak of all types of wine, boxed and not, Italian, and Argentine, she likes that I like wine. Right about now, she has handed me a freshly baked roll. There is no comparison to how undeniably delicious a freshly baked piece of bread is. She explains to me the difference between the ones with grasa, and sin grasa. (Bread that will make your ass fat, and bread that will make your ass fatter). She said she thought American girls were funny when they ordered hamburgers without the bun, or diet cokes. I replied, ¨yo también.¨ I´m not even going to suggest the idea of whole wheat bread here in her kitchen, for fear that I may be shunned.

This is when Sergio comes in with a fresh pastry stuffed like an eclair with Dulce de Leche, topped with powdered sugar, and a cute little cherry on top. Oh my! He thought my love for the sweet nectar of Baby Jesus could be empowered if I ate one of these nifty little creations...He was right. With powdered sugar all over my lips, and some crumbs in my shirt, I mumble how splendid it tastes. We all laughed some more. (My guilt for having left work to eat Argentines´ delicacies lessened when Lucy then brought me another piece of ¨pan.¨ It was small and cute. I was already full. Were they testing me- let´s see how much the American can eat before she explodes??? Never one to insult people and their creations, (unless you created that fancy BS version of Campbell's Tomato Soup, I hate you) I stuffed that little number in my mouth. I tasted the butter before it touched my lips.

Lucy loved that I was enjoying this. It was approaching time to go, and Silvia had to get back and finish the work I skipped out on by having a field trip to the Courtney Turns into a Circle Person, factory. (Thanks, JP;) Lucy and Sergio speak among themselves for a few seconds and turn to me, both bearing the widest grins I have ever seen. Boarder line creepy, but mostly friendly. The ask me if I would like to come to an Asado on Sunday. They say there will be wondrous amounts of food. Oh, and there will be wine, naturally.

Count me in!

Lucy leaves, and I make quick plans with Sergio, and say ciao to everyone else in the kitchen. Lucy comes back from the front and hands me a bag full of rolls, ¨Para meriendas, y con dulce de leche, jejeje.¨ SCORE! She Makes sure I´m coming on Sunday, I thank them for everything, and make my exit.

After telling all of this to my host mother, she was so excited that I made random friends. Andreita, on the other hand, says that I´m friends with her competitor...I forgot she too works at a panaderia! Well, you snooze you lose, I can´t be friends with everyone, and I never received free bread from your neck of the woods, sorry sister! Haha.

I bought a delicious bottle of wine. (well, 2, one for myself, and one for my Sunday friends...I had to make sure It was good before showing up with it). I plan on stuffing myself sick tomorrow. You will be informed of this, too...whether you like it or not!

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