an idiot in spain

santiago diaries

Wednesday, 20th September.
International Language of Soap Operas

Last night, just as I was falling asleep, a new snorer let rip! Barb got the giggles again. But this bloke wasn't in the same league as the Brazilians.

We stopped at a small cafe this morning, where a Spanish soap opera was showing on tv. It was brilliant. We knew exactly what was happening, and we hardly spoke a word of Spanish. I may not speak the International Language of Love, and I am acquainted with the International Language of Money, but I think I may well be fluent in the International Language of Soap Operas. Dodgy music, wobbly sets, wooden acting, thin plotlines. What more could you want?

Here's what was happening: A wheelchairbound bloke was in court in a damages or criminal proceeding. It doesn't matter. Anyway, he has these fervent phonecalls with some woman, who seems to be living in a hotel room. Or she lives in a flat decorated like a hotel room. It doesn't matter. There is a supermarket, and all the staff at the supermarket never work, they only gossip. Also seems to be a lack of customers at that supermarket. Then, during the trial, Wheelchair Man gets really upset with what the opposition lawyer is saying, and stands up! Shock horror. Then we see the woman of the fervent phone calls popping pills then having nightmares. Magic. Channel 5, 10am weekdays. (That's in Spain, kids.)

The outskirts of Burgos went on forever. Burgos is a city, and we were going to spend tonight in a hotel room. All very cosy, isn't it? Don't even think it, JT, and don't bother emailing me, I know what your smutty little mind is thinking. When we finally found the hotel and sorted out a suite (boys in one room, girls in the other, all above board) we found the pastry shop from heaven!

Now I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but the pastries in Spain are out of this world! And they're cheap! They are soooooo goooooood. When we get to a town, we first find the refugio, then we find the pastry shop. And maybe a bread shop or supermarket, but WE NEED THOSE PASTRIES!

Anyway, the lady at this pastry shop was mildly amused by our lack of Spanish, and loved the way we'd buy stuff, go off and eat it, then come back fifteen minutes later for more.

Back at the hotel room, we discovered that we had cable! So we watched, for the first time since we'd been in Spain, some of the Olympics! Looks like we're winning loads of medals, nice. All those pastries seem to be slowing the Spanish athletes down. How are Canada doing? Oh, Canada.