An Outsider's Viewpoint
And along comes an Englishman to get Spanish readers in a kerfuffle. The more things change....
Two Sundays ago, Chris Haslam of The Times, wrote a mostly tongue-in-cheek article on Spanish habits. To begin with, a visitor should know the difference between tapas and pintxos. To be sure, I don't know the difference myself, only that pintxos is a word written in Basque, so perhaps it would not be wise to ask for a pintxo in Cádiz. Getting a tan and learning the language are also important. Well, while I know the language from babyhood, the tan has escaped me all my life.
Then, he says, to pass as a Spaniard, one must act like an extroverted pig in a bar, shouting and hugging and kissing all and sundry, and throwing everything on the floor. I beg to slightly differ. While it's true that effusive greetings are common among people that know each other, especially in smaller towns and villages, any stranger that just wanders in off the street and starts greeting purely unknown people like long-lost relatives should get ready to be taken away to the local police station, where the nearest relatives will be called to come take charge of the poor sod. As for throwing everything on the floor and eating tapas at the counter, I think there's some truth in that in some places, but don't do that in an unknown café. The waiters will look daggers at you, and might even bring out the broom to try to make a subtle suggestion.
Yes, those delicately decorated fans on sale in some specialty stores (the expensive ones, not the tourist traps), are only for decoration, not vigorous use. And, yes, we do use hand-held fans in Spain. Only we use the cheap ones we buy in the Chinese bazaars and the euro stores (kind of like the ancient five and dimes back in the States). Summer in Spain can be H!O!T!, especially from the meseta southward. And, yes, the locals have learned the places in which to spend the hottest hours of the day, unlike the guiris walking around Sevilla, late July, mid-afternoon, temps in the 40'sC, shrivelling in the sun. Of course, those Spaniards who work outside have no choice, but they do know the use of a head covering and a bottle of water. In this, the British author was correct.
Another instance in which he was generally correct was in the use of extra-official vocabulary. Spaniards tend to swear a lot. However, we do know that some words should not be used in every situation. Ocassionally, an exclamation might get away from us, and the example he used of a teacher on a field trip in Salamanca was probably because said teacher was exhausted and fed up with her indifferent charges. While the principal in school might not have let the teacher get away with it in class, I'm sure he probably understood the exceptional circumstances, in the case that someone denounced her, which I'm pretty sure no one did. While frowned upon, the ocassional use of swear words with youngsters is completely understood.
And, of course, impunctuality is a trade mark in Spain. It is completely normal for people to show up late for things. All given times are merely estimates, from the doctor's office to the television shows. Rarely will anything begin at the time it is supposed to begin. Which is why when something does begin on time, we are surprised. Though, while most are not punctual, there are some, like my husband, who value arriving at the time one is supposed to arrive. Others learn the hard way, like a group of businessmen who travelled to Japan some years ago. Thinking the Japanese were also approximate in their scheduling, they showed up late to a meeting and lost their bid for business. The Japanese thought the Spaniards weren't serious if they weren't even going to show up on time.
As for the food, yes, Spaniards might be thought to be eating almost continuously. But that's because we believe in the five meal a day plan. We get up, and, while some may eat toast, the sobrasada (a type of spreadable sausage) might get lifted eyebrows in some places in Spain. Butter is perfectly common on toast, too. Olive oil, while toted by some, seems to be more common in the south. Breakfast around here is generally cookies and milk, bread and milk, cereal and milk, muffins and coffee, croissants and coffee, or any other combination of sweet and coffee, milk, and sometimes juice. In the mid-morning we eat again, generally something short and sweet, with its correspondent coffee. Lunch is generally anywhere from one to four, depending on where in Spain you are. In the north the time frame is shorter; I've found kitchens that closed at three. In Madrid once, we had lunch at three, and when we left at four, people were still coming in. Then, there's the mid-afternoon snack, or merienda, and supper from between eight or nine and ten or eleven.
As for eating everything on your plate, I advise you do it because it's food you've paid for, and it's a shame to waste it. But no one in public will accuse you of wasting food. Besides, the rations are not extremely large, unlike those served in the United States. The famine of the 1940's has left its imprint on eating habits, but mostly only upon the generation that suffered it. So, if you are invited to a house where the person serving the food is in their eighties, you might expect disapproving clucks of "why won't you eat any more?" after having ingested enough food to feel like you might go rolling down a hill if you happen to stumble.
The last jab is also pretty accurate. In toilets with motion activated lights, the lights do not take into account everyone's sitting habits, so you might find yourself stretching your hand out for the toilet paper and everything goes black. And you will see the little red light of the switch, which you won't be able to reach from where you are. Toilets generally do not have outside windows, either.
While the article is not completely accurate, it is pretty much, and obviously written tongue-in-cheek. Yet, people have become upset, and have pointed out that the British are not exactly clean, and that their progeny that come on vacation here are generally drunk and disorderly. And that also has its germ of truth. No one's perfect.
Two Sundays ago, Chris Haslam of The Times, wrote a mostly tongue-in-cheek article on Spanish habits. To begin with, a visitor should know the difference between tapas and pintxos. To be sure, I don't know the difference myself, only that pintxos is a word written in Basque, so perhaps it would not be wise to ask for a pintxo in Cádiz. Getting a tan and learning the language are also important. Well, while I know the language from babyhood, the tan has escaped me all my life.
Then, he says, to pass as a Spaniard, one must act like an extroverted pig in a bar, shouting and hugging and kissing all and sundry, and throwing everything on the floor. I beg to slightly differ. While it's true that effusive greetings are common among people that know each other, especially in smaller towns and villages, any stranger that just wanders in off the street and starts greeting purely unknown people like long-lost relatives should get ready to be taken away to the local police station, where the nearest relatives will be called to come take charge of the poor sod. As for throwing everything on the floor and eating tapas at the counter, I think there's some truth in that in some places, but don't do that in an unknown café. The waiters will look daggers at you, and might even bring out the broom to try to make a subtle suggestion.
Yes, those delicately decorated fans on sale in some specialty stores (the expensive ones, not the tourist traps), are only for decoration, not vigorous use. And, yes, we do use hand-held fans in Spain. Only we use the cheap ones we buy in the Chinese bazaars and the euro stores (kind of like the ancient five and dimes back in the States). Summer in Spain can be H!O!T!, especially from the meseta southward. And, yes, the locals have learned the places in which to spend the hottest hours of the day, unlike the guiris walking around Sevilla, late July, mid-afternoon, temps in the 40'sC, shrivelling in the sun. Of course, those Spaniards who work outside have no choice, but they do know the use of a head covering and a bottle of water. In this, the British author was correct.
Another instance in which he was generally correct was in the use of extra-official vocabulary. Spaniards tend to swear a lot. However, we do know that some words should not be used in every situation. Ocassionally, an exclamation might get away from us, and the example he used of a teacher on a field trip in Salamanca was probably because said teacher was exhausted and fed up with her indifferent charges. While the principal in school might not have let the teacher get away with it in class, I'm sure he probably understood the exceptional circumstances, in the case that someone denounced her, which I'm pretty sure no one did. While frowned upon, the ocassional use of swear words with youngsters is completely understood.
And, of course, impunctuality is a trade mark in Spain. It is completely normal for people to show up late for things. All given times are merely estimates, from the doctor's office to the television shows. Rarely will anything begin at the time it is supposed to begin. Which is why when something does begin on time, we are surprised. Though, while most are not punctual, there are some, like my husband, who value arriving at the time one is supposed to arrive. Others learn the hard way, like a group of businessmen who travelled to Japan some years ago. Thinking the Japanese were also approximate in their scheduling, they showed up late to a meeting and lost their bid for business. The Japanese thought the Spaniards weren't serious if they weren't even going to show up on time.
As for the food, yes, Spaniards might be thought to be eating almost continuously. But that's because we believe in the five meal a day plan. We get up, and, while some may eat toast, the sobrasada (a type of spreadable sausage) might get lifted eyebrows in some places in Spain. Butter is perfectly common on toast, too. Olive oil, while toted by some, seems to be more common in the south. Breakfast around here is generally cookies and milk, bread and milk, cereal and milk, muffins and coffee, croissants and coffee, or any other combination of sweet and coffee, milk, and sometimes juice. In the mid-morning we eat again, generally something short and sweet, with its correspondent coffee. Lunch is generally anywhere from one to four, depending on where in Spain you are. In the north the time frame is shorter; I've found kitchens that closed at three. In Madrid once, we had lunch at three, and when we left at four, people were still coming in. Then, there's the mid-afternoon snack, or merienda, and supper from between eight or nine and ten or eleven.
As for eating everything on your plate, I advise you do it because it's food you've paid for, and it's a shame to waste it. But no one in public will accuse you of wasting food. Besides, the rations are not extremely large, unlike those served in the United States. The famine of the 1940's has left its imprint on eating habits, but mostly only upon the generation that suffered it. So, if you are invited to a house where the person serving the food is in their eighties, you might expect disapproving clucks of "why won't you eat any more?" after having ingested enough food to feel like you might go rolling down a hill if you happen to stumble.
The last jab is also pretty accurate. In toilets with motion activated lights, the lights do not take into account everyone's sitting habits, so you might find yourself stretching your hand out for the toilet paper and everything goes black. And you will see the little red light of the switch, which you won't be able to reach from where you are. Toilets generally do not have outside windows, either.
While the article is not completely accurate, it is pretty much, and obviously written tongue-in-cheek. Yet, people have become upset, and have pointed out that the British are not exactly clean, and that their progeny that come on vacation here are generally drunk and disorderly. And that also has its germ of truth. No one's perfect.
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