Spanish life is not always likeable but it is compellingly loveable.
Christopher Howse: A Pilgrim in Spain
Spanish Life- Oh, dear. I suspect the hapless driver won't be believed . . . Cue jamón puns.
- More on turrón here. I used to much enjoy one of its antcedents in Iran years ago. A bit on its history here.
- The media here is far more concerned with what goes on in Spain's ex colonies than the British media is in, say, India. With the exception, in the UK, of the USA. But, then, the latter is a superpower whose actions impact on the whole world. Which one can't really say about Venezuela or Bolivia, for example. I wonder if the Portuguese media obsesses with Brazil and will check this out when I have lunch down there today.
- I wonder if we'll ever see this in Galicia.
- This is nice to know but, of course, as they're 'foreign', we'll never see them in any supermarket here in Galicia.
- There was another constantly yapping dog near my table yesterday. This time it was the mutt of one of a group of heavy drinkers and tramps who gather under a nearby archway (soportal) and about whom no one ever does anything. Least of all the police.
- Which reminds me . . . We now have the official stats on the police checks last week in 'Zona 10'. Control points: 12. Offenders fined: 0. But where are these cops when you need them in the old quarter at night, when bike riders flash past you in the dark at 20kph
- Never in Britain’s history has there been a more dispiriting election of such political magnitude. Seems about right to me.
- Rudi Guiliani has appointed a 20 year old with absolutely no qualifications as his Communications Director. Female, of course. You have to admire the clown's chutzpah. Details here.
Spanish
- Word of the Day: Repipi. Prissy; Hoity-toity; Prim. This is how a Spanish friend describes all Brits. Admittedly based on living in England (and Wales) for several years.
- It would have been ironic, I guess, but at 8pm last night I almost became the first victim on the O Burgo crossing I've written about, despite wearing fluorescent armbands. I was half-way across one side when a car kept coming and coming, only stopping on the (wide) crossing itself, a metre from my legs. I couldn't see the driver but I imagine there was the standard hand up in apology. One tends to freeze at times like this but my mouth recovered quickly enough to manage some choice Anglo-Saxonisms. Though I rather doubt he or she could understand anything other than the gist of them.
No comments:
Post a Comment