The following conversations in SPANISH THROUGHOUT were recently held between a very friendly bar waitress and myself in a cafe in Estación San Roque.Me: A beer please.
Waitress: A coffee?
Me: A beer please.
Waitress: A white coffee?
Me: A beer – I’ll have a beer without alcohol.
Waitress: You want a coffee with no milk.
Me: I want a beer!
Fridge door is opened and a bottle of Cruzcampo is waived in my direction. I nod my ascent.
Waitress: Are you English?
Me: Yes.
Waitress: Sorry I don’t speak English.
15minutes later:
Me: Do you have red wine?
Waitress: You want another beer?
Me: Do you have red wine?
Waitress: You want a coffee?
Me: Do you have a Rioja.
Waitress: A Rioja no. I have this red wine – do you want it with white lemonade.
Me: No – I’ll have another beer.
Waitress: Sorry, I don’t speak English.
15 minutes later:
Me: Can I have the bill please.
Waitress: You want another beer?
Me: Can I have the bill please.
Waitress: You want a coffee?
Me: I want the bill! The bill!
Waitress: Oh you want the bill – sorry I don’t speak English.
I should add that between the above conversations I spoke to a seven-year-old girl who I suspect is the daughter of the cafe’s owner. She told me very proudly she spoke English. We had a couple of brief chats – I spoke to her in Spanish – she replied in English. We understood each other perfectly.
There must be a moral to this story – but for the life of me I haven’t a clue what it is.



