Surprises!

We had been in the flat in Vigo maybe no more than half an hour when there was a knock on the door? Odd! Nobody knew we were here! I opened the door to be confronted by a huge great teenage girl, a good six inches taller than I am. She smiled and told me she was collecting for the end of term party, the fiesta de fin de curso. Well, strictly speaking I suppose that fin de curso should mean end of year rather than end of term but as it’s still rather a long way from the end of the school year, I assumed she meant end of term. Either way, I had no supplies of biscuits, cakes, do-nuts, sweets or other tooth-rotting delicacies to offer so I sent her on her way!

I am always amazed when that happens. Why do adolescents here in Spain think that the whole artificial community of people who live in the block of flats, many if not most of whom have no real acquaintance with each other, might want or feel obliged to give them stuff to have a party at school? Do their parents know they do this? Maybe their parents encourage it. One of life’s minor mysteries! 

Here is another: why do driving school cars in Spain sport a large L on the top? What is L supposed to mean here? Lento? It certainly doesn’t mean “learner”. Would not A for “aprendiendo” be more appropriate? It must be a bit like the international STOP sign.

In Portugal one day last week we had a choice on a dinner ticket menu between a chicken dish and something much more red meat based. The chicken came with “carril”. So I politely asked the waiter “o que è carril?” in an attempt to discover what we might end up eating. He leant in and said, “Carril, carril!” as if that provided all the explanation necessary! In for a penny, in for a pound, we went for the chicken adventure.

When it arrived it was in a mild curry sauce: carril! Obviously the word was a victim to southern british pronunciation, the one that has people drinking “caps” of tea! Very good carril it was too. So much for the Portuguese being really good at languages though!

Today we set off for Pontevedra for lunch with our friend Colin. Our timetable misinformed us and we had been led to believe there was a train from the Urzáiz station at 12.06. Except that there wasn’t any such train. The next was at 14.40. There was, however, a train at 12.10, and another at 12.20, from the other station, Guixar.

Off we went in a taxi, getting to Guixar two minutes before the 12.10 was due to leave. The queue was long so we risked getting on without tickets, as they were announcing its imminent departure. The departure took place five minutes later. We could have bought our tickets and spared ourselves the lecture we got from the grumpy old git ticket man on the train!

So it goes!