The Malaga hotel I stayed in
last night was is Calle Moby Dick. I wonder whether there's
another one anywhere else in the world.
More
fun with my (expired) residence card: In the hotel in Aranjuez the
guy at reception queried it and, misunderstanding him, I said it
didn't matter it had expired as my number was still the same. He
replied that the problem wasn't that it was no longer valid - which
was of no concern to him - but that he needed to know when it had been
issued. So I guessed at a date and he entered this in the hotel
computer. Here in Malaga, the girl at reception entered the date of
expiry as the date of emission. Which all rather questions - yet
again - why all this paperwork is being generated.
And
talking of fun with numbers . . . I tried last night to make a
transfer from one of my bank accounts to the other but was told - 5
times - that the password was wrong. So I then tried to change my
password and to re-instate the one I thought it had been. But I
was told that I couldn't have a new one that was the same as the old
one. In other words, that the password had been correct all along. So
I added a letter at each end. And was told the same thing. So I added
another letter at each end and was finally told it was OK and I could
make the transfer. Each of these attempts, by the way, involved using
a code sent to my phone. Taking up half an hour of my time. I guess
it makes sense to someone.
Finally
. . . a lovely Spanish vignette. My elder daughter and I went down to
the hotel restaurant this morning and asked if we could just have a
coffee and not the the 13 euro breakfast. 'Of course you can', we
were told. I left before my daughter but this is the conversation she
had when leaving:-
How
much is it for 2 coffees?
You
are invited [They're free]
Oh.
Are you sure?
Señorita,
we are in Spain!
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