A few notes about what I've learned about Spain in the last couple of weeks. (We'll leave here in a couple of days, so this may be my last chance to get these thoughts down.)
Finding a good cup of espresso coffee is not easy. That surprised me. (I was getting Spaniards mixed up with Italians, I think.) A lot of cafes have those awful Nescafe pod machines, or drip coffee.
Many Spanish seem to enjoy travelling in family groups. A few times, I've found myself in a cafe in the morning (the Clingon still in bed catching up on beauty sleep) and in walks a group of 10 or 12 people, looking for tables. I order quickly then.
The Spanish seem to be extremely fond of pig meat in all its forms. Walk into any bar, shop--not just butchers, but pastry shops and tourist tack shops--and you'll find rows of pig legs, going green and black, hanging from the ceiling. Sometimes there's a tiny fake pig leg hanging from a taxi driver's rear view mirror. I wonder how all the real pigs' legs get eaten. (Some of what I've seen the Clingon put in his mouth turns my stomach. I've come to realise that we just can't share tapas.)
Spanish people, like the Turkish, love smoking, young and old. Sometimes, as I walked down a narrow alleyway in the old part of Sevilla, I could smell the after-breakfast cigar of an old guy in the next alley.
Spanish people are very happy to speak to the Clingon, and they all compliment him on his Spanish. Generally, they seem to be quite friendly and amiable. Not as polite as the Turkish to this old girl--no-one has stood up for me on the Metro here, or anywhere at all--but they generally greet us with "Hola", and "Buenos dias!".
So, off to get a bite to eat now, at 9.30p.m. We are becoming more like the Spanish, eating late. Can't stay up and out though. Have to be in bed by 10 if I'm going to continue walking for several hours every day. Tomorrow we've got tickets to the Alhambra, which we can see from our room.
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