...when you're in Barcelona.
Last autumn I went there for a weekend to escape the clammy Amsterdam November. It was well worth it, with the sun out constantly for 2 of the three days and so many things to see and do that it seemed like I had been there for weeks on end when I came back.
But I digress. What I really wanted to say, aside from do visit Barcelona when you get the chance, has to do with the different customs, two of which I stumbled into in my usual bumbling manner.
The first of them happened when I had just arrived, was still at the airport and trying to phone some of the hotels I had meant to book earlier but never come round to. I was standing in the phone box for quite a while fishing through my notes to come up with the numbers and trying to communicate in Spanglish with the various receptionists when I noticed someone making odd signs at me. I really thought he was crazy when he started tapping at the pane and used his hand to show what I thought was the crocodile mouth that parents sometimes do for a shadow puppet rendition. Of course it wasn't that: when I finally left the booth and went past him he gave me a hard talking to in Spanish till he learnt that I was a foreigner (not that unlikely on an airport I would have thought) then he burst out laughing. He explained to me in broken English that he was producing the scissor symbol, recognized universally throughout Spain with its meaning of: "Cut it short, please!"
The second strange occurrence happened, or rather didn't, when I was waiting for 2 Spanish people I had met in a park, and who had kindly invited me to a seafood restaurant. We were to meet at a certain bench by the marina at 9pm. So I turned up at the time and they didn't. Over the next 30 minutes even Barcelona started to feel frosty to me and finally I decided to leave - just when they arrived: "In Spain," they explained holding back their laughter, "it is assumed that you're at least half an hour late for any appointment."
Take 30 minutes to look at the Barcelona travel guide.
Last autumn I went there for a weekend to escape the clammy Amsterdam November. It was well worth it, with the sun out constantly for 2 of the three days and so many things to see and do that it seemed like I had been there for weeks on end when I came back.
The first of them happened when I had just arrived, was still at the airport and trying to phone some of the hotels I had meant to book earlier but never come round to. I was standing in the phone box for quite a while fishing through my notes to come up with the numbers and trying to communicate in Spanglish with the various receptionists when I noticed someone making odd signs at me. I really thought he was crazy when he started tapping at the pane and used his hand to show what I thought was the crocodile mouth that parents sometimes do for a shadow puppet rendition. Of course it wasn't that: when I finally left the booth and went past him he gave me a hard talking to in Spanish till he learnt that I was a foreigner (not that unlikely on an airport I would have thought) then he burst out laughing. He explained to me in broken English that he was producing the scissor symbol, recognized universally throughout Spain with its meaning of: "Cut it short, please!"
The second strange occurrence happened, or rather didn't, when I was waiting for 2 Spanish people I had met in a park, and who had kindly invited me to a seafood restaurant. We were to meet at a certain bench by the marina at 9pm. So I turned up at the time and they didn't. Over the next 30 minutes even Barcelona started to feel frosty to me and finally I decided to leave - just when they arrived: "In Spain," they explained holding back their laughter, "it is assumed that you're at least half an hour late for any appointment."
Take 30 minutes to look at the Barcelona travel guide.
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