Some cultural observations

So it’s been awhile since I’ve talked about anything but our kids. I apologize. Here’s some cultural tidbits from the last couple weeks.

Denied. Some of you might remember my previous posts, in which I described the bread-store-owning brothers whom I fear. I crave their bread. They are very particular about to whom and how they sell their bread. This makes for some tense exchanges.

So I walk into the store yesterday, and there’s a little scrum of people waiting at the counter. Up being served is an adorable senior citizen – dyed red hair, cane, bird-like carriage, the works. As I walked in, she was ordering something. The response from bread brother #2? “Listen. TODAY we do not have blah blah blah. [More rapid-fire Spanish that I don’t understand]. NEXT IN LINE. YOU. Two gallegas?”

At this point, the woman in question turned to me with an expression of disbelief and proceeded to say something along the lines of “Can you believe this guy?” – but of course in rapid Spanish that I couldn’t understand. I didn’t have the time to answer her because the bread guy was actually pointing at me – my usual order is two gallegas. Alas yesterday, I only needed one (Jon in Moscow), but I was too terrified by what had just transpired to correct him. So now we have a huge loaf of gallega in the freezer.

Free stuff. So at least among the small shops up in Alcobendas, there’s a tradition of giving out free stuff. Buy $13 worth of fruit? Here, have some gum. Don’t want gum? Have some eggs instead. The bread guys, bless their hearts, often sneak little breadsticks or lollipops for the kids into our bag. And if you walk into any store with a screaming toddler, or even sometimes just a regular toddler, that toddler is going to get free food or a toy.

Interestingly enough, the free stuff doesn’t come with McDonald’s-type happy-happy-happy-meal attitude on the part of store owners and staff. You can find lots of fake excitement about customers here in Madrid, but it’s mainly at the mall or chain restaurants. More typically in local stores you get matter-of-fact service, or in some cases (like the bartender at the brothers’ bakery), a slightly aggrieved look when you order.

And yes, I said bartender at the bakery. The sometimes odd combinations of things for sale in any given establishment is for another blog post.

Letter paper. So I had to write a letter to an elderly aunt last weekend. Lacking the foresight to have brought note paper to Spain, I set out to find some in our little neighborhood. I already knew, from similar trips to our local grocery store/Target, that there was no letter paper to be found there, even though there was a fully stocked envelope center. So I walked around to a few local “papelerias” (paper-ias) and asked, best I could, for letter paper (“papel para escribir cartas.”) The first place, none. The second place, still none. I asked where I could find some, and the owner told me that they just don’t carry that sort of thing anymore, given that everyone uses email. He then tried to sell me some construction paper, but I demurred, wondering what the elderly aunt (whom I’ve never met) would think if a letter arrived from a 40-something woman on paper looking like it belongs in an elementary school project. To solve the situation, I ended up buying a hideous (kittens) and hideously expensive ($3.00) greeting card for the occasion.

Smoking. Smoking is super-common here in Spain—lots of old and young people of every social class do it. Except, I’ve realized, women of a certain age. Spain friends – was it considered gauche for women to smoke, circa 1960-1970? That would be my guess, because it’s very rare to see a woman over 50 lighting up.

Car safety. I’ve been doing morning drop-offs this week while Jon’s been in Moscow. This has allowed me to peer into many, many family cars as they wend their way to school, and I have this to report: the variance in car safety for the under-12 crowd is very, very wide here. In some cases, kids are strapped into what is practically a 270-degree carseat. In other cases, kids that look to be around 5 are bopping around in the passenger seat while their toddler siblings turn somersaults in the back. Perhaps this occurs because the road to/from school is a parking lot most mornings – nobody’s going anywhere fast, so the risk of serious accident is low. Or maybe this is the “free-range” (in a car) movement a la Spain.