In a survey I recently took about being an expat in Spain, I was asked whether I had every ‘put my foot in it’ culturally or linguisticly since arriving 11 years ago… and one experience came straight to mind.

A few years ago Marina and her sister were swimming in their parents’ pool up in the sierra beyond Madrid. As I sat on the edge lazing around, Marina’s sister swam up behind Marina and, as one does in swimming pools, playfully ducked Marina’s head under water.

Marina emerged seconds later with a wild exclamation of: “ZORRA!”

Zorra (noun) = female fox, or (slang) whore

“Zorra Tu“, shouted Marina in return, and they both splashed about laughing.

Now there’s an inventive use of the language I thought, one for the databanks, can’t wait for an opportunity to try it out myself!

The next day, back at the poolside, two of Marina’s oldest friends, a married couple, came round for tea. Pool antics ensued, and when Marina pushed me from the side into the water, I seized my chance to try out my favourite new word:

“Zorrrrrrrrrraaaaa!” I cried in delight, when I resurfaced….

” – - – “, replied Marina, a mute expression of total disgusted horror on her face.

Later, long after they had left, and Marina still hadn’t spoken to me for about 5 hours, in desperation I managed to corner her in the kitchen for the following enlightening conversation:

Ben: “What the hell is wrong?”

Marina: “Are you stupid or what?”

Ben: “Clearly, because I haven’t got a bloody clue what’s wrong with you!”

Marina: “Don’t be so ridiculous, I can’t believe you don’t know why I’m so pissed off…”

Ben (pausing for divine inspiration): “Ummmmmm… Nope.”

Marina: “YOU CALLED ME A WHORE IN FRONT OF MY FRIENDS, IDIOT.”

Ben (wracking brains for proof this might be true): “Um, are you sure?”

Marina: “You called me a Zorra when I pushed you in the pool!”

Ben: “Oh yes that, ha ha, I’d been waiting to use that for ages!”

Marina: “…eres un gilipollas, vamos…” (=You stupid d*ickhead)

Ben: “But… but you and your sister said the same thing to each other in the pool just the day before!”

Marina: “THAT’S DIFFERENT!”

Ben: “???”

And so another part of my Spanish education was complete. Your wife may call her sister a whore in front of you, and her sister may equally be-whore her in return, and it’s all good fun!

But woe betide you if you dare to presume to learn by mimicry. What works for one person in situation A, is by no means available to you in the similar, but almost-inappreciably-different, situation B.

I tried to explain this to Marina of course, that I was just a victim of the ‘witness, commit to memory, try it out soon’ school of language learning, but sadly she was still slow to forgive. Took about four years if I remember correctly before the whole event was truly forgiven (but not forgotten).

So be warned! A Spanish woman may be a zorra in front of her sister, but never in front of her friends.

I was recently talking to a 70+ year old friend of my grandfather’s. After asking him if he’d lived in the same city all his life, he said:

“In Spain we have a saying: you are born where your parents come from, and you die where your wife comes from…”

The more I thought about this, the more examples I found to back it up. Married couples do often end up living where the wife orginally came from.

Now this could be a completely unfair conclusion, and is certainly no slight on women in general (I can feel myself getting into trouble here…), but it is just the kind of ‘warning’ you hear when you first end up getting together with a Spanish person, male or female, on their turf…

I received another such warning when I first got together with Marina. A teacher friend kindly passed on words of advice from another teacher who knew what I was up to. “Tell Ben to watch out,” she had said, “he has no idea what he is getting into with the Spanish family.”

This ‘adivce’ haunted me for months…

I guess she meant the fact that the Spanish family stays close, that you’ll be eating with them every weekend, and there may be quite a few extra visits during the week… all true…

BUT, doesn’t that happen in other countries too? A mother-in-law is a mother-in-law where ever you come from – ever present, in one way or another.

So according to received wisdom, if you move to Spain and get together with a Spanish person, you will end up living where they come from forever, and have to hang out a lot with their family. That pretty much accords with my experience, but you know what?

It isn’t all that bad!

Thank god Spain still has a culture where the family is respected, nurtured, kept tight! While western culture is doing it’s best to dissemble the traditional family (extended and nuclear), the Spanish still want to get together as often as possible for a good feed-up! Good for them!

And the idea you might get stuck in Spain forever? I say jump in with both feet, you’ll soon end up realising you were always destined to be here anyway.

[P.S. I miss my own family lots and wish we were all nearer!]

I’m back in Spain after a month away, a 3,000 km odyssey via France (where I managed to get totally offline for 2 weeks for the first time in … years), two wonderful family weeks in the UK, and finally the ferry home from Portsmouth to Santander (Thanks Colin for putting us on to the joy of Brittany Ferries!)

A note on the ferry: we dreaded spending 24 hours on a boat, but enjoyed it immensely. Yes, the normally rough Bay of Biscay was calm as a lake, but the boat was huge, our cabin was big enough, and a nice lady from whale charity ORCA gave us a talk on the evening we departed about wildlife we might see, and the following day helped us spot dolphins and whales from the heliport deck.

Apart from common and bottlenose dolphins, we saw two fin whales, the second largest animal on the planet (after the blue whale). Others spotted sperm whales and pilot whales. Either we are very lucky, or the Bay of Biscay is teeming with life!

Here are some of my first impressions of Spain (from the drive home from the Santander ferry to Madrid):

1. There are a ridiculous amount of brothels along the highway around Valladolid – part of the route we took home. These are known as ‘clubs’ and are identified by the garish coloured neon strip lights around the edge of the buildings. Libido must be wild in Castilla y Leon, these things are everywhere!

Sadly they are full of girls from Eastern European countries and beyond who have been conned, abused, and forced into working there.

2. People walk into bars here to smoke, instead of walking out to smoke. Much as I hate smoking in bars and restaurants, there is something great about seeing the Spanish casually do something much of the rest of Europe has renounced so fiercely. No one tells Spain how to behave!

3. Highway driving here = appalling. You’re in the fast, overtaking lane, about to pass a lorry, when an SUV undertakes you at crazy speeds, and squeezes into the tiny gap between you and the lorry, just so he can get past it before you do. Scary. Unnecessary. Seen less in the UK.

4. It’s still bloody hot (compared to the UK!)

5. More soon. Suffice is to say that it’s great to be back. But it was wonderful to be away.