Life in Cartagena

Compared with mint tea half way up Everest or sucking down fish head soup in Vietnam I suppose Spanish bars are pretty tame. Nonetheless, drinking and eating in one last night I was reminded of how vibrant they often are. In amongst the tumult and background noise that every Spaniard copes with by simply talking, or shouting, a little louder we had the extra fun of the din produced by the Real Madrid - Bayern Munich game. And there we were. Not an unusual situation for us nor for the four Spanish people we were with but we had two other Britons with us, a couple of teachers from a school in the UK which is partnered up with Maggie's school here in Cartagena. The visitors were being entertained. We were out for a snack. As always when out with a biggish bunch of Spaniards to eat tapas someone ends up making all the food decisions. Yesterday I suspect that the chap who thought he was in charge of the order had actually ceded control to the waitress but nobody really minded as l...

There's something wrong with our sofa. If I sit on it I nod off. I don't think it's anything to do with the whisky - definitely a sofa problem. So the best place to read anything is in a bar. If I fall asleep on a bar stool it hurts as gravity does its thing. I have little routines about which bars I use to get a coffee and so where to read. On Wednesday and Friday morning en route to my classes in Escombreras I stop off at a nice little spot just beside a petrol station. My two cups are served by a very pleasant woman and habitually set me back the princely sum of 2€. But not today, today with a new younger woman behind the bar I paid 2.20€. Odd I thought but, being British, I said nothing. As I drove away though it rankled a bit. The it struck me that it happens quite a lot. In the place I use on Ramon y Cajal for my intercambios the four drinks for the two of us usually come out at 4.40€ but a couple of weeks ago they were 4.80€ and in Santa Florentina it was 20...