When we were talking in class today about the first questions we ask about people, I think there is one more: what is your name? We want to know what to call each other. However, our host mother has not told us what to call her. So far it hasn´t been an issue, but I am curious.
She is a wonderful, sweet woman who reminds me of a grandmother figure. She has invited us into her home and taken great care of us. On the first day, she showed us pictures of everyone in her big family. Everyone but two of her nieces still live in Sevilla. She is the only one who still lives in El Centro, the downtown neighborhood where she has lived her whole life, and where we are living now.
One thing that has stood out to me as far as cultral differences has been proximiety. The first day when I was sitting on my bed, she sat down on it as well to talk to us. In the U.S. I think people would either ask first, or do that when they are comfortable with each other.
She has told some wonderful stories. The firt day, I gave her some pecan and peanut brittle from San Antonio. She was so excited about the pecan brittle. The cathedral is across the street from our apartment, and she told us that as a child she would go there with her cousins and siblings and eat pecans from the one pecan tree that was there. As far as I understood, that tree is no longer there. She was really excited about the pecan brittle because she had never had pecan candy before, and I guess now it is harder to get pecans in Sevilla.
She watches telanovellas and the news (the Spanish news is entirely made up of female broadcasters, from what I´ve observed so far) with enthusiasim, and cooks us delicous meals. Before we left today she made sure to tell us to be safe with drinking. She better than anything we could have asked for — however I still don´t know her name.