One of the best parts of living in a foreign country for a short, specified amount of time is that it’s incredibly easy to justify unhealthy eating. I will explain in a moment, but let me first tell you about my problem in Spain: chocolate and churros. I remember learning about them in the cultural section of my Spanish textbook in high school and hoping that one day, I’d get to try them. They’re these delicious lengths of fried, barely-sweetened dough that you can dip in sugar or a cup of luscious chocolate. They’re so delicious, in fact, that the key is not to eat so many that you can’t walk home, and I know from experience that this line is just a moving target, subject to the terrible irrationality of “just one more.” There are so many variations on this beloved breakfast food: chewy and dense, light and airy, thin and long, girthy and short, dark, light, and oily…my recent favorite is one that is crispy on the outside with just a thin shell to encase the airy, almost souffle-like interior. This churro (like all churros) must be eaten immediately when it’s hot and if you don’t, it becomes deflated and dejected in its own oiliness. This terribly short lifespan of a churro is actually just a mechanism to get you to eat quickly without stopping to question how many you’ve had.
And here is where you rationalize your churro experience for the second time (the first was deciding to even have them in the first place): “Since I’m only here in Spain for a few months, I have to maximize my churro eating because once I return home, I’ll never have them again!” It’s all the easier when they’re only a few Euros. Of course, this leads to more rationalizations like “Okay, I’m craving churros, so I’m going to go have some, BUT I’ll only order a few and not overindulge like last time!” Ahhh, we humans always think the next time will be different.
As my time left in Spain dwindles, I’m realizing (and justifying) that churros are about so much more than fried dough. It’s about the entire experience: watching the people go by against the backdrop of the Mediterranean, filling my ears with the sounds of Spanish, interacting with the elderly gentlemen who serve me, learning that churro dough must change with the temperature and humidity, and above all, experiencing a vital part of Spanish culture: taking it slowly. These are the pillars of Spanish culture that I’m so reluctant to leave behind. The churros lure me in, but it’s the warm feelings in my stomach, heart, and soul that make me come back for more.
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