In July of 2021, I finally had the opportunity to travel to Spain. After many years of longing, I was incredibly eager to go. I knew that I was in for a culture shock, despite having previous knowledge about Spanish culture. There’s nothing comparable to an immersive experience that would prepare you for living in a stranger’s home and adapting to their norms. 

I had arrived in Salamanca and was introduced to my host family, after which I was whisked away to settle into their apartment. Almost immediately I was faced with my first obstacle. My host mom asked what I wanted to eat. Trying my best to be polite and make a good first impression, I told her that anything would do. Prior to even arriving in Spain, I had made a promise with myself that I would try anything once. I can tend to be a picky eater in the sense that I stick to a few foods that I know I like. So, this was my first test to uphold my promise. I also knew that food and mealtimes hold a special place in Spanish households. Clearing your plate and complimenting the person who prepared the meal is the norm and considered disrespectful if not done. I became incredibly anxious because I was nervous to upset my host mother if I ended up not liking what she had cooked. I hardly ever faced any issues with eating the food my host family prepared for me. Inevitably there were times I didn’t love something that was put in front of me. But, overall the anxiety about meals subsided. 

I was most inclined to the relationship Spaniards have with meals one particular night that my host sister prepared dinner for me and my roommate. I had a late lunch and wasn’t super hungry, so I didn’t finish all of my tortilla española. I made sure to tell her that I didn’t finish only because I was full. However, an hour or so later my host mom called me into the living room to ask what happened at dinnertime. Initially I was very confused, but she went on to tell me that after we finished eating my host sister called her in tears because she was insulted that I didn’t eat the food she had cooked. I was so shocked to have heard that I made her upset; that was obviously not my intention. I reassured her that it was simply because I wasn’t that hungry and a tortilla española is very filling! For a few days, I could tell my host sister was still bothered by it. I felt so bad that I had upset her, but ultimately it came down to cultural differences. To me, I didn’t finish all the food because I was full. To my host sister, I hadn’t appreciated the time and effort it took her to prepare the food for me. This small incident was a big eye opener for me. I hadn’t fully understood the significance meals had in Spanish daily life until I was a part of it myself.