Let’s just skip over the Switzerland that I didn’t see. Cold and rainy Geneva along with 12 hour days filled with “Je ne parle francais” was enough for me to make a few resolutions: 1) take those French classes I always wanted and 2) not to miss my EasyJet flight to Madrid. Iceland’s erupting volcano attempted to delay my entry into Spain, but I got there just in time. My friend Amy was waiting for me having arrived at our Madrid hotel earlier that day. A week in Spain exploring wine country, Spanish art, and of course food. Lots and lots of food. (This will turn out to be a little too much enthusiasm, but you only live once.)
I love Spain. The way of life. The freshness of the food. The oh-so-exacting nature of the language. The Spanish don’t easily offer up information. They answer a question with just the information required. Ask the wrong question – that’s your fault. But ask the right one – be prepared for an onslaught of opinion and conjecture. How are you supposed to tell the difference? Well you can’t. It’s all about nuance and intuition. You have to figure out or really feel the Spanish language to know which words to use when. I suppose it’s probably the same for most languages. When you do, you’ll have a marvelous time. So what if you don’t know Spanish? Learn some. Seriously it’s not hard to learn basic words in any language. Hello. Goodbye. Thank you. Please.
I’ve been amazed in my travels by tourists unwillingness to show courtesy to their non-English speaking host country by picking up some basic phrases. A little learning will go a long way. Especially once you realize that Spanish maps don’t actually tell you how to get anywhere. Also, a week with a bunch of four language speaking Swiss is enough to make you vow to kick them off their smug high horses. So far, I have two down, two to go. I’m already looking forward to picking a fight in French.
