Bar Provincias and kind Spaniards

Tonight, after the final orientation discussion of the program, a group of friends and I went to look for dinner at one of the local tapas bars. We originally were headed toward Bar Pöe, a spot highly recommended by a friend of mine who previously studied in Granada, but found it too busy to fit in nine loud Americans. After passing another few restaurants and bars, all similarly small, I was losing interest in traveling in a herd of foreigners.

On the way to the Plaza de Bib-Rambla, which has a large number of restaurants geared toward tourists with tables big enough to seat all of us, we passed a street with a small bar with wooden tables and stools outside. Although the outside area was empty, as it was pretty chilly tonight, the inside was packed. The other girls decided against it quickly, but Gracie and I decided that we would stay and eat on our own, if only to decide on some food quickly.

We walked inside Bar Provincias, where it was warm, lively and smelled great, but we were originally a little awkward. Everyone inside was obviously a local, and even with only two of us, it was evident that we stood out. We made our way to the back of the bar, where a crowd of about eight adults were sharing a couple plates of appetizers and laughing with the bartender. After hesitating for a few minutes and feeling very out of place, the bartender turned to us and we ordered drinks, stumbling through our Spanish. He immediately asked where we were from, and we told him we were from Chicago. He introduced himself as Jorge, and pointed out one of the women at the bar as his sister.

As we looked around, all of the tables were full except for the one in the corner, where the group of adults had set their coats and purses. As we again hesitated awkwardly, his sister stood up to move their things to the corner.

Gracie went up to the counter to order, but they were out of the dish we had decided to split. As she looked at the menu again, the Jorge’s sister and her husband gave recommendations on which dishes were the best. Their recommendation was a good one, as Jorge brought us out bread and a dish similar to shrimp scampi, but served in olive oil and garlic so hot that it was still boiling when brought to our table.

Gracie at the Bar Provincias 

The food was fantastic, but as we got up to pay and meet up with our friends, Jorge and his sister grabbed forks and had us try the tuna and tomato dish that their group was sharing. As we were talking to them, two girls around our age started talking to Gracie, saying if we were ever at the restaurant again, we should sit with them because they would love to practice their English. Even if our attempts to speak Spanish were littered with grammatical errors and a horrible accent, talking to the people about trying to improve our Spanish during the program seemed to impress them.

As we were leaving, Jorge joked, “All Americans are fat and ugly, no? You two are skinny and pretty. Don’t you just sit around eating hamburgers all day?”

I’d like to think that we proved some American stereotypes wrong today, but if nothing else, venturing off the beaten path got us some great food and an inside look at the culture and people of Granada.