You know you've lived in Spain when....
While I've enjoyed all of this Salmantina's reports from my "home town", not even this amusing list beats the photo of an ice encrusted bedroom window she forwarded last winter. If she dreamed of winning the eternal admiration of the Salmantinos she'd left behind, she did so with that photo. That frozen window is still the talk of Salamanca, and the courage and presumed clothes-layering talents of the woman who dared lived behind it are legendary.
Without further ado, here are a few amusing ways to recognize an American who's lived in Spain.
You know you've lived in Spain when:
1 You can't for the life of you figure out why bars and clubs keep closing down just as you get started with a night out. Surely the night's just beginning?
2 You aren't just surprised that the plumber, painter or repairman has turned up on time; you're surprised he turned up at all.
3 You think it's nice to tell everyone how great they look today.
4 Not giving every new acquaintance dos besos just feels so rude.
5 What's with all this butter on toast? And where's the olive oil? Toast without olive oil? Is this a joke?
6 You forget to say please and thank you when asking for things. You implied it in your tone of voice, right?
7 You don't see sunflower seeds as a healthy snack - they're just what the cool kids eat.
8 Every sentence you speak in English contains at least one of the following: 'bueno,' 'vale,' 'venga,' 'pues nada'...
9 You recognize clapping as an art form, not just a way to express approval.
10 You have friends named Jesus, José María, María José, Ángel, and Inmaculada Concepción. Many of each, in fact.
Let me add a few of my own:
You can't even think about drinking coffee with cold milk.
Nor will you entertain the possibility of a meal without bread. How will you get the food to your mouth?
You plan nothing until you are about to do it. And you think nothing of spontaneously calling friends, and yes, expecting them to drop what they're doing and join you.
You say goodbye at least a dozen times before actually leaving. Anywhere.
Often these goodbyes last long than the visit that preceded them.
Ah, and my favorite:
You plan a 5-week unpaid vacation to walk a pilgrim's route across the country, alone, and nobody blinks an eye. Even the most casual acquaintances merely make note of your start date, to be sure to call during the walk and egg you on.
Labels: on living in Spain