Being in Spain is a curious experience. Being my first time outside of the borders of my home country, it is a peculiar feeling to be in a country where the native tongue is not one of yours. However, the most fascinating part of the Spanish language is not the blatant foreign attribute, but the sheer speed at which Spanish is spoken by most people. I imagine that the average word per minute rate of spoken Spanish is very likely one and a half to two times that of the average rate of spoken English. But a very distinctive property of Spain, is the tempo of the Spanish day and life. Despite the rapidity and fluidity with which the Spanish speak, their lives exhibit a diametrically opposed tempo. It seems that the Spanish people truly value strolling, rather than hurrying through the average day. It is a property which I very highly respect, which I often do not exhibit myself. The other striking element of Spanish culture is the sheer politeness of Spanish people, and particularly the men. At the dinner table, they all wait until everyone has their supper before anyone takes a bite. I feel like a boorish brute at the table, when I am beginning to wait on them like one pig waits on another.
But alas, my Irish friend has come to chat, so I must end for now.
