all right, fine, I will tell you about my family

So I'm staying with this family, yes? And I've said several times that I'll tell you about it, yes? Well finally I'm keeping my promise! (see Mom and Dad, I *do* listen to you ;) )

So my house seems to work a bit differently from some of the other places ISA kids are staying. Instead of sleeping a couple doors down the hall from the señora et al., my roommate Julianne and I actually live in a flat two floors above our host family. So when lunch or dinner time rolls around we trip lightly down the stairs and call at the door (a literal translation of the Spanish phrase) and Pepita lets us in and gives us food. We usually go down a little early, though, and talk to Pepita and help set the table while she cooks.

Pepita is the first person I'll tell you about, and the best way I can think of to do that is to describe her as the quintessential Spanish mother, always bustling to and fro and getting things and asking if we want more bread, more soup, some cheese, maybe some jam for the bread, etc. etc. etc. She is about five feet tall, pleasantly round, and usually clad in comfortable clothes, house shoes, and apron, but with impeccably done makeup. The first day Julianne and I were here she immediately called us her girls and took us under her wing at once. We can talk to her about anything - absolutely anything! Nothing fazes her, and she likes to know what we've been learning, including the dirty words and all that. When Julianne learned how to say "to have an orgasm" she said it all sheepishly, feeling weird to be saying such a thing to a mom figure, but Pepita's response was "why would you be shy about that? it's natural," and once Pepita and I were discussing different kinds of cheese and she mentioned one called tetilla (which is a diminutive of the Spanish word for tit), explaining that it's called that because it looks like someone just took a boob off a woman's body and put it on the table, complete with gestures repeated several times over. Which reminds me - Pepita never says anything just once. Most Spaniards tend to repeat requests and compliments several times, it being rude to accept either one on the first go-round, but Pepita seems to take it to an extreme. She will say something like "If you want more bread, there's more" and then go into variations on the theme for a couple minutes: "if you want more bread, there's more. there's always more bread. more bread is just over there. there's more bread if you want any more" and so on and so forth. She will also talk to Dori, the little dog, in a half-sing-song voice for quite a while at a time, saying the same things over and over and petting and patting her.

Which brings me to Dori! I'm not sure what breed Dori is, but whatever it is she's really cute. She stands about a foot high at the shoulder, is all black, and has floppy ears that sometimes flip inside out. Whenever I go downstairs she's always excited to see me, and she'll stand up on her back legs, pawing at my leg and hand until I scratch her behind the ears, and if I stop she'll run her head into my hand until I start again. She rarely barks, except when she's in a bad mood, and she loves to play with her little toys, growling and trying to wrest them from my grasp. As soon as we sit down to eat she's right there, putting her front paws on your leg and making hungry/sad faces until you give her some food, and if you try to ignore her she'll let out a little whimper that lets you know she's really suffering and would be much better if you'd let her have just one little bite of your ham or cheese or egg. The family is sometimes pretty rough with her, smacking her harder than is probably comfortable and dragging her around by the legs or tail, but she rarely complains (although Julie and I sort of cringe). Really the only time she gets cranky is when her more or less cousin Kira comes over (the pet of Pepita's daughter). Kira is a very energetic dog, always running to and fro and trying to steal whatever Dori happens to have at the moment (ball, toy, food, etc.). She's less well-behaved than Dori, and she is a little less than house-trained, unfortunately. ... They're both very cute, but I like Dori better.

Also in the family is Pepita's husband, Abelardo. At first I could not for the life of me understand what he ever said - he has about the thickest Andalucia accent I've ever heard - but now that I'm more used to both the accent and him, I can usually understand him, and he's pretty funny in a dry sort of way. He and I have good-natured little arguments about when is the proper time to sleep, night versus day, and how much you should really work. Despite his claims that you should work during the day and sleep at night, though, he always encourages me and Julianne to go out partying, especially to this particular place where it's legal to drink alcohol outdoors and everybody brings their own bottle of whatever and hangs out in this park thing. We haven't been, but he keeps bringing it up and asking when we're going to go. He always peels his apples before eating them, and his favorite food is a chunk of bread with a chunk of dark ham - especially the white part, the fat. I don't understand why he likes the fat better, but to each his own, right? He can eat that and I'll eat Pepita's delicious tortilla española.

Abuelo doesn't usually eat the same thing I do either. Pepita's elderly father usually just has a piece of toast and some juice, and he has his own little place at a table in the kitchen, complete with tablecloth and everything. Every day when he finishes his meal he shakes out the cloth and calls to Dori to come eat the little crumbs that fall, and then he shuffles off to go watch tv. Whenever he comes into the kitchen to eat, the first thing he says is always "Muy buena ... Hay apetito?," asking me and Julie if we're hungry. He is even harder to understand than Abelardo, because in addition to his Andalucia accent he has the old-man-mumble added to the mix. Most of the time he sits in his armchair in the salon, watching the news and occasionally putting in a comment when something interesting happens.

So that's everyone who actually lives in the apartment. Pepita's two daughters, though, are often to be seen there. María del Mar, the younger, eats lunch with us almost every day, and she always has very stylish outfits, well-done hair, and too much makeup. She also is very loud, like the typical Spaniard, and rather funny. The slightly older daughter, Nani, comes over a lot but rarely eats, at least not that I see. She's quieter than her sister, and she is usually cuddling with one dog or another (Kira is her baby). Her husband Eduardo is occasionally to be found there, wearing navy pants and brown shoes and chatting with Abelardo, with whom he seems to be great friends. Pepita's sister Ascención lives in the same building, and she is sometimes there too, with or without her husband. ... Today at lunch there were I think eight people all trying to fit into the tiny kitchen: Pepita, Abuelo, me and Julie, María del Mar (no nickname), Ascensión, her daughter Lorena, and Lorena's boyfriend, whose name escapes me. He is quite a character, and although I don't always know what he says, he can always make the family laugh heartily. Nani was in the other room, and Kira and Dori were running around everywhere. I can only imagine what fun there is around Christmas, when all of the family gathers for parties and so on!

So that's that! The whole family is great, and Pepita is very much like a second mother to me and Julianne. I'm definitely going to miss her (and Dori) when I go!