Before Spain I had never eaten churros con chocolate. They are quite good, and I expect to eat them again sometime soon. However, before I can truly continue this story, I need to take you back to orientation.
Veronica, our program director is very frank and takes no prisoners when she says things. One piece of advice was as follows. "Some people on the streets may invite you for chocolate. It isn't chocolate. It is hasheesh. You can go just don't tell me. Churros con chocolate is actually chocolate and is fine." And I made a mental note that I wanted churros, and not a chocolate bar.
Later in the week my roommate had a craving for chocolate, and I had never tried churros. Our mistake was telling our host mother that we were going out for chocolate, instead of chocolate and churros. We dug our hole deeper when we said that it was one of those night when you just needed it. I should have noticed something when all she said was 'Vale' (O.K.) and look at her son, who smirk and looked down at his laptop.
Churros are one of God's gift to creation. So we all are clear.
The next day it hit me what exactly we said to our host mother and I rushed from class to tell Marissa. We could hardly wait for lunch to get home and clear up the mess. Once there, however, I felt so self-conscious, I didn't know how to begin. I felt terrible. What does this woman think of me? She really is a stranger, taking me into her home. Have I greatly offended her? Can I fix it? All these thought whizzed through my head, and I sat and ate lunch in silence. So did everyone else.
Finally Marissa couldn't stand it. "¡Amelia probó su primeros churro anoche!" (Amelia tried her first churros last night!)
Our host mother glanced up and a look of relief crossed her face. "Ah...Churros!"
She seemed very happy about churros and proceeded to tell us the best places in the city for them. Our host brother shook his head and left the table.
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