Before you go to any culture, the most important question you should always ask is “Be honest. How good is the food, really?” Hearing good responses about the rich food of Spain, I decided it wouldn’t be awful to spend five months here. With food like paella, churros y chocolate and more, I suppose I could manage.
However, things can never be as perfect as one would hope. Turns out, there was a slight glitch in my perfect food paradise: the timing of food. Usually, breakfast is eaten whenever you get up (probably somewhere between 7:30–10 but closer to 8 or 9). Then, lunch isn’t eaten until 2 or 3. Dinner is usually somewhere between 9:30–11. All I can say is, “What. The. Heck.” For me, I think the times Americans eat makes much more sense. It’s probably because I’m ultra-biased, but eating at 10 p.m. just doesn’t make sense to me. In addition, the time from breakfast to lunch is long enough to make a skeleton starve.
At least, that’s what I thought before I got here. Interestingly enough, it’s been fairly easy to adjust to the eating patterns of the Spaniards. Lunch is the largest meal of the day, so you usually aren’t super hunger when dinner happens and you only need to eat a little. And, for some reason, my small breakfast of chocolate milk and cookies (which is legitimately what they eat for breakfast here. Strange, right?) are enough to tide me over to lunch. Barely tide me over, that is, but it tides me over nonetheless. While it does take time to adjust, the hours aren’t nearly as bad as I initially thought. Strange? Yes. Unbearable? Well, the food is worth the wait.