Hoy es fiesta ... and other oddities of Spanish life!

Monday was QUIET on our street! Too quiet! Especially for a Monday! I strolled down to the supermarket only to find that it was closed. A niggly little voice in my head reminded me that I had recently overheard someone say something like “lunes es fiesta en Vigo”. It certainly seemed to be the case so I popped into the baker’s shop – they NEVER close apparently – and asked why. Well, Sunday was the feast of San Roque and since the saint’s day fell on a Sunday, everyone had Monday off, except the baker of course! Spanish logic! But in fact not much different to what happens in the UK if Christmas Day or Boxing Day falls on a Sunday.

Another mystery raises its head for me, however. Who IS San Roque? The French have him as well, Saint Roc, and the Italians, but I’ve never heard of him. Mind you, I’ve never heard anything about San Fermín either, apart from his apparently being the patron saint of fools who want to run in front of bulls! It must be the consequence of my NOT having had a catholic upbringing. A mixture of Methodist and the lower, simpler version of Church of England doesn’t teach you as much about the whole gamut of saints.

Ah well, that explains the feria that I came across on Calle Filipinas on my way home form the bus station late on Sunday afternoon. There I bought a large chunk (really the ONLY word to describe it) of pan campesino con pasas, a dense wholemeal bread with those large unseeded raisins. It’s very tasty, rather like wholemeal fruit tea-cakes but requiring a lot more chewing and you end up with a mouthful of grape pips. It’s a good job it keeps well as we’re still working our way through it.

This fiesta/feria business is just another of the delights of living in this delightful country. Here’s another: a friend of ours regularly asks for Fanta Naranja in our local bar. With equal regularity he is told that there is only Kas, a different brand. Then there are places where the reverse happens, rather like the places that only sell Pepsi or Coca-cola; it’s a question of supply.

Supply also perhaps explains the change in the type of free tapas at our local bar. Previously they served pieces of tortilla and other such good things but lately they only offer crisps and monkey nuts. Maybe they have changed their cook or something.

Talking about crisps brings me onto one of the linguistic oddities of Spain: patatas fritas are both crisps and chips. Now I have had no problem with this; the situation always makes it plain which I want. However, I do know a couple who had some difficulty in a tourist resort on the costas. Their small son was a fussy eater, consuming almost nothing until one day chips appeared on his plate. So the next day his parents tried to ensure that he got chips with his meal, asking for patatas fritas. A plate of crisps appeared. Working largely in an odd form of sign language they explained that this was not quite what they wanted; they needed looooooong patatas fritas. The waiter was puzzled but finally his face lit up, he nodded and took the crisps away..... only to return a little later with the crisps somehow cut into longish strips!!! If you will go to the costas .... what more can I say?

As regards the free tapas, at least they still exist in most places here. There are parts of Spain where they are long gone and I didn’t get them in Oporto at the weekend. When ordering tapas though you can have occasional problems deciding whether to ask for una ración, una media ración or un pincho. The latter is fairly standard, usually a little something on a bit of bread but the other two vary considerably from place to place and can lead to you getting more (or less) food than you expected.

This kind of linguistic fun and games can cause problems for the Spanish as well. As the endless reformas continue in our block of flats the expanded polystyrene padding in our lift has hidden the phone number needed in the event of breakdown. Someone has thoughtfully noted this on the padding, writing incorrectly aberías followed by the number. Some more literate inhabitant has amended this to aVerías. Oh, the difficulties in distinguishing between V and B!!!

Then we have the use (overuse?) of the diminutive ito/iño. If you fancy a shandy and ask for una clara, the waiter will almost inevitably correct you with, ah, una clarita. Do not be fooled into pre-empting him. Should you dare to ask for una clarita he will correct you the other way.

The diminutive is a kind of linguistic tic around here. One late evening / early morning last week, walking home from the concert in the Castrelos Park, we ordered tres cañas. The waiter smilingly confirmed our order: tres cañitas.

It was just a little thing, una cosiña, just as grazas, gallego for gracias, often becomes graciñas, a kind of thank you version of pretty please. And then my panadera regularly says goodbye with hasta lueguito or, if she is feeling particularly gallega, hasta luguiño.

I’ve not yet heard hasta mañanita but I would not be at all surprised if I did!