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 He replied that the problem wasn't that it was no longer valid - which was of no concern to him - but that he needed to know when it had been issued.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!