| Re: From northern Spain - the bit the Brits don't reach Posted by rogerpatenall at 06:41, 25th October 2026 |     |
Refreshing! That's not to say Graham's posts are not good to read also.
Portuguese? It is the difference between Obrigado, and Obrigada that confuses . . .
As we say in France - Bonne Continuation .
| From northern Spain - the bit the Brits don't reach Posted by grahame at 06:13, 25th October 2026 | |
Sharing (with permission) from Lisa's Facebook page - to friends there ...
If I was dropped in the middle of nowhere, there is no one else I would rather have as my guide than my husband, Graham.
While we have railed through the nether regions of the northern coast of Spain, he has had to navigate missed connections, train cancellations, bus replacements, train reservations, hotel bookings, confusing timetables, missed hotels, Interrail manual entries... all the while not knowing the language except the all-important "gracias", which once came out as "merci" then "danke" in the rush of responding.
It's our own fault. We endeavour to "live as the natives" -- to eat the regional food and mix with those who actually live in places we're unfamiliar with. That means avoiding, for the most part, tourist-y spots, and staying in small to medium-sized towns. For this trip, we got our wish in spades. We should have boned up on our Spanish. It's not that it's difficult; it's that they speak it SO FAST! We'd previously been accustomed to people knowing English enough that we'd not kept Google Translate at the ever-ready. "Gracias" or "merci" or "danke" ordinarily was enough to get by in other countries.
You also have to have patience about times to eat and when shops are open. And that meals are often shared around the table, family-style. I'd order myself a main and then be asked if we were sharing the dish, and this had me confused at first. I do have a food mission: I'm on the hunt for Fabada asturiana, and apparently restaurants that advertise they have the best, don't actually serve the dish.
However, the scenes out the train windows, and yes, even the bus replacements, have given us views into the most charming seaside towns. I just love the architecture. "Seaside" -- actually Bay of Biscay, which is currently throttling our home country to the point of curtailing cruise liner schedules. (Note to Neighbours: we're not affected in the slightest.)
And now we're headed toward Portugal, where, I understand, the language is even more difficult. Note to self: Gotta look up how to say "thank you" in Portuguese before our train heads out.
Ah, but the food, and the kindness of strangers, and the scenery...
While we have railed through the nether regions of the northern coast of Spain, he has had to navigate missed connections, train cancellations, bus replacements, train reservations, hotel bookings, confusing timetables, missed hotels, Interrail manual entries... all the while not knowing the language except the all-important "gracias", which once came out as "merci" then "danke" in the rush of responding.
It's our own fault. We endeavour to "live as the natives" -- to eat the regional food and mix with those who actually live in places we're unfamiliar with. That means avoiding, for the most part, tourist-y spots, and staying in small to medium-sized towns. For this trip, we got our wish in spades. We should have boned up on our Spanish. It's not that it's difficult; it's that they speak it SO FAST! We'd previously been accustomed to people knowing English enough that we'd not kept Google Translate at the ever-ready. "Gracias" or "merci" or "danke" ordinarily was enough to get by in other countries.
You also have to have patience about times to eat and when shops are open. And that meals are often shared around the table, family-style. I'd order myself a main and then be asked if we were sharing the dish, and this had me confused at first. I do have a food mission: I'm on the hunt for Fabada asturiana, and apparently restaurants that advertise they have the best, don't actually serve the dish.
However, the scenes out the train windows, and yes, even the bus replacements, have given us views into the most charming seaside towns. I just love the architecture. "Seaside" -- actually Bay of Biscay, which is currently throttling our home country to the point of curtailing cruise liner schedules. (Note to Neighbours: we're not affected in the slightest.)
And now we're headed toward Portugal, where, I understand, the language is even more difficult. Note to self: Gotta look up how to say "thank you" in Portuguese before our train heads out.
Ah, but the food, and the kindness of strangers, and the scenery...
