It’s really getting on my nerves.
The number of times I’ve been into bars and the conversation with the waiter has gone something like this.
Me: Uno cerveza por favor.
Waiter: One beer, yes.
Me: Dos agua sin gas.
Waiter: Two still water.
Me: Uno martini rosso.
Waiter: One martini.
Me: Uno café con leche y uno café solo.
Waiter: One white and one black coffee. Anything else sir?
Why do they do that? This happened all the time last time we were in Spain and it’s happening here.
Firstly, how do they know I’m English? I’m speaking Spanish for God’s sake. I may be speaking it in a slow, stilted manner but I could be any nationality doing that couldn’t I? Why does he repeat it in English and not in French, German or Italian?
And secondly, is he doing it on purpose to make me feel like I’m totally wasting my time and effort because it’s obvious to him and the rest of the Spaniards in the bar that he can speak much better English than I can Spanish? He can there’s no doubt about it but all I want is a bit of encouragement. A pat on the head and a condescending, “Excellent sir, your Spanish is really rather impressive.” wouldn’t go amiss now and again would it?
Emma’s had her hair plaited in that Afro-Caribbean style that makes her look like Stevie Wonder in the seventies except that she’s white, pretty, female and doesn’t keep bumping into things. When she told me earlier that she was thinking of getting this done I didn’t believe her and rashly said that if she had her hair plaited then I’d have my hair dyed red. I appear to have made a promise that I can’t break according to Emma and may live to regret this sooner than I think.
The rooms in our hotel all have TVs, obviously, but you can’t adjust the pre-set low volume without using a remote control which you have to hire from reception. I hired one for Emma and Camille’s room but in our room I just sit closer to the television. Trouble is, when I’ve got my ear pressed up against the side speaker I can’t see the screen. But we’ve got a good system going. Pauline maintains a running commentary by shouting out to me what’s going on visually and I shout what’s being said back to her. The wild life programmes are the most difficult. I haven’t quite perfected a cheetah’s mating call or the male elephant’s rutting sounds but my Will Smith in the Fresh Prince Of Bel Air is a gem. With Pauline describing the action and me doing the dialogue who needs that remote control? Certainly not us.
By the way, that magician's assistant wasn’t naked after all.
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