Ever since I got here, I've been struggling with Spanish. This is the same kind of experience I have every time I go someplace where I actually need to use my language skills: for the first few days I'm in the honeymoon phase, where I feel like everyone understands me and I can understand everything I need to. Then all of a sudden it's like my comprehension plummets - I can't understand anyone anymore, and I'm incapable of forming a basic sentence without a dozen mistakes. One of the best examples of this so far came towards the middle of the first week I was here, when there was a massive hail storm. The apartment I was staying in then (they moved me to a nicer one a few days later) had an air conditioner in the wall - but it wasn't sealed, it was just placed in the wall. When this hail storm hit, the hailstones - and the torrential rain that accompanied them - came into the room around the air conditioner. I ran down to the office to beg for more towels to try to stop what was beginning to look like a very localized flood, but in my haste to explain the situation I used the wrong verb. "Llover" means "to rain" in Spanish; "llorar" means "to cry." Guess which one I used.
Anyway, I'm telling this story to explain my amusement today when I realized that it's not that I can't speak Spanish - I just can't have normal conversations. I struggle to read a menu or to explain that I believe my showerhead is clogged, but I have no trouble whatsoever having detailed conversations about more intellectual issues. Today as I was traveling to a meeting I had an extensive conversation with my cab driver about the Mexican political system, compared and contrasted with the U.S. system and with complete explanations on both of our sides as to what problems we felt each system faced (Mexicans are, not surprisingly, very cognizant of American politics. They have to be, because the decisions taken in the U.S. have major ramifications here). Then as I was returning from the meeting, I had a very detailed conversation with that cab driver about racism here and in the U.S., complete with causes and explanations for variation. So apparently I can speak Spanish, so long as it's not about anything practical.
Speaking of not being able to discuss practical things, I am continuing my quest to eat as many things I could not previously identify as possible. On that note, this is a fruit called a granada china, or golden pomegranate. It is named after, but I think not actually related to, a pomegranate. It reminds me more of its other namesake, however - a grenade.
The granada china is an unexpected fruit. It has a very hard outer shell, almost like an egg - it actually makes a cracking sound when you open it. Inside is a hollow space filled with goop-encased seeds. You're supposed to eat both goop
and seeds; apparently you can tell a
granada china is ripe when you shake it and hear the innards rattle around loosely. This is not at all appealing to look at, and the texture admittedly leaves something to be desired. In fact, texturally it's a little like eating mucous. Flavorwise, however, it's great. It has a sweet flavor, vaguely like a melon, and the seeds provide a nice little crunch. I liked this a lot more than the mamey I tried earlier in the week, but I'm not sure whether I can get over the texture enough to try it again.
On the plus side, I seem to be able to eat the majority of produce here without trouble - yesterday I bought a sandwich with lettuce in it, which was extremely exciting since I haven't had lettuce since I got here, and didn't have any problems. This means that when I go back to my buddy the fruit guy at the market this weekend I plan to buy some of the absolutely gorgeous cherries he always has piled up there. Happy weekend!
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