After a late night full of fun and foolery, we were up early the next morning to be out of the house and into the town of Trogir for our cooking class. Melissa and Jenn, two of the female scholars who were on the trip last year, planned this entire weekend and did a fabulous job. One of the activities that they did last year was a cooking class and everyone raved about it, so we all decided to do it again. Jenn booked a class with a woman from Trogir so we could all learn how to make some authentic Croatian food.
We left early in the morning, but were unaware of the parking situation and ended up being about a half an hour late to the class. When we arrived at the meeting location (which was also kind of hard to find), we were greeted by a very angry Croatian women, Ivana, pointing at her watch and telling us that we were 30 minutes late and that we should have called. Never mind that most of us didn't have international phone plans. She proceeded to yell at us about how we were 30 minutes late and she thought that we weren't coming. We were shocked. I know we shouldn't have been late, but she deals with tourists all the time and should know that we aren't all great at navigating new cities and finding parking.
Despite the rough start, we sat down for tea and coffee and tried to smooth things over. We learned that it was her birthday, as well as a lot about Croatian history and food. By the time we were ready to hit the market to go shopping, I felt a little bit better about our decision to push through and stick with this cooking class, although her sense of humor seemed a little much for our taste. She did teach us how to pronounce and spell some Croatian words, though, which was nice. Melissa took this very seriously and tried to spell things throughout the day. Ivana wrote an F on her notebook. She thought it was funny. We did not.
After our Croatian spelling lesson, we headed to the market to buy our supplies for the day. The markets of Trogir reminded me a lot of the markets in Turkey, which made me miss it, but there is nothing like getting fresh food!
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Our fearless leader. Truly not afraid to say anything. |
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This man yelled at us in Croatian before someone told him to stop. We came to realize that Croatians are just very very VERY blunt. |
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Old town Trogir |
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Jen and Claire....probably puzzled over something that Ivana said |
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Walking to Ivana's house. She kept reminding us that we had to hurry since we were late early. Got it. Thanks for the reminder. How could I forget? |
When we arrived at Ivana's house, where the cooking would take place, we were shocked at how small her kitchen was. When researching cooking classes and making the booking, Jen had made sure that the class could accommodate all of us. She was reassured that nine people plus Ivana would not be a problem. I don't know how they thought that was true because this kitchen was tiny! It was a good size for maybe four or five people, but definitely not nine. Anyways, we proceeded.
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Jess aproning up! |
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Autumn peeling some carrots. I think her look summarizes our sentiment at this point. |
After peeling vegetables and throwing them in a pot with some chicken, we moved on to fish.
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Heather getting lessons from Ivana. She seemed to like Heather, but Heather did not like her. |
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Our finished product! |
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nom nom nom nom nom |
Overall, it was fun to take a cooking class with everyone. Since we were such a big group, I think we were able to brush off some of Ivana's more blunt comments and realize that she was a little crazy, as well as the cultural barrier was very present. I didn't learn a ton of cooking strategies, but that's okay. I didn't go into the class really expecting to. I did laugh a lot and get to eat some delicious food, so I'd call it a success.
After the cooking class, we wandered around down in the market some more before heading back to the villa for dinner. We picked up Rais, the scholar in Lisbon, Portugal from the airport and spent the rest of the night hanging out at home, eating spaghetti, and laughing at the crazy cooking class that we attended.
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