When mozzies bite.

When the mozzies bite, you know you are possibly in for a treat.

So far, I’ve got away with just a few nibbles, nothing to be concerned about. No purulent festering sores have erupted, no scabrous wounds, no mind twisting itches. I’ve only heard the odd little buzzing in the night to indicate their presence. Perhaps because we are in Spain, this lot are a little less vicious than their Scottish midge cousins. Its the weather here making them a little less restive. I saw one sipping on sangria, muttering ‘meh’ rather than going in for the kill on the nearest white skinned tourist. As far as the fauna go, they are the probably the most dangerous little creatures around. Everything else seems to be benign. The flora however are a bunch of spikey bastards. There are flowers of course to lull one into a false sense of security, but make no mistake there is a thousand different types of cactus waiting to prick your sorry arse should you sit in the wrong place. Mozzies seek you out. Cacti just wait for you to come to them. The antidote is a chilled glass of ‘tinto verrano’.

The post breakfast stroll found ourselves buying hats in the busy town square. The lady who sold Ann her hat was French, and thus I could not pass up the opportunity to speak to her in her native tongue. Madame had heard us speaking English and was visibly shocked to be addressed in just about half decent French. I don’t know much of the language but just enough to make them think. I’ve noticed several times how faces light up when an English person speaks their language. Tourists here are from the United States, Germany, the Nordic countries, Japan, China and and the UK of course. It is obvious that just about none of them try to speak Spanish at all. The locals all speak great English which of course enables them to deal with the babel of foreign tongues.

The Americans are stereotypically loud. They always have been, going back to Roman times in the third century BC. I don’t know why, but one always knows when they are in the vicinity. Perhaps it is because they think they come from the greatest country in the world and have adopted a master race mentality. Perhaps they think they are doing the rest of the world a favour and feel no need to learn a foreign tongue. They do not hesitate for a second before bellowing something inane in loud English. It is frankly embarrassing. Why I should feel that on their behalf is of course a stereotypical British response. My Spanish is not great but the difference it makes to the demeanour of the people one deals with is very noticeable. For example, outside most restaurants there is a member of staff waiting to greet passers by and to invite them in. Most tourists nod something in English to them and walk on. I tried a bit of spanish in response to an invitation to enter the restaurant; “Gracias, pero acabo de comer” which means “thanks, but I have just eaten”. Her face lit up that someone has attempted her native tongue. Little things I know, but it makes a small difference. I always note just how little people try to speak. It is hard, and it takes confidence, and it leads to replies in rapid response as they then assume one knows far more than is actually known. However, I do it to prevent being mistaken for an American, who as a collective nation, are more of an irritant than the mozzies.

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