Trotz meiner Social Networking-Abneigung, aber manche Dinge sind einfach too good to miss: Wunderbarer (leider etwas eingeschlafener) Blog eines fest angestellten EU-Kollegen. 

It’s hard to define my Portuguese experience. It messes with my insides. It makes me somehow respectful of mild manners, and quiet and subtle reasoning- an easily overlooked surprise if you are tuned to the higher frequencies of repetitive bonhomie of the Mediterranean. I learn to appreciate rueful smiles.  

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I start to despise the tone-deaf Northern European I used to be- one who was immediately seduced by Spain’s bright colours, and their tapas of simple, strong flavours. Now I have coriander in everything, salt cod permeates its surroundings as it bakes, and clams plump up as they simmer in garlic and wine. English tourists baffle the locals by trying to speak Spanish to them. Spanish tourists do exactly the same, gesticulating and shouting, emboldened and lordly, over-ordering and marvelling at the value, so unlike their tongue-tied, self-conscious, and price-conscious selves in Paris or London. Bring Me More Prawns, Boy.