
The Guiri Treatment. It happens most frequently with taxi drivers, occasionally at markets where the stall owners don’t know me, and now and again at bars. Basically it’s when a local service provider takes me for a guiri (an unflattering term used to describe foreigners, especially tourists) and decides it would be a clever idea to try and rip me off. Trust me, this is never a clever idea. I not only make sure I do not get ripped off, but I make enough of a fuss that (I hope) the guilty party will think twice before trying this kind of stunt again on a visiting foreigner.
The other day it happened at a bar I’d only been to once before. We had been out walking and stopped in for a quick beer before lunch, and I asked for 2 cañas. Most bars only serve one size of beer (the small cañas) but as I have sometimes been served larger ones when I’ve asked for a cerveza I always make sure I specifically order cañas to avoid confusion.
On this occasion I did the same and was given two large beers. I pointed out the mistake to the barman and he waved me away, so I assumed that he realized the error was his and that I wouldn’t be charged extra, which is usually the case when this happens (though at one bar they actually dumped the two large beers down the drain and poured me two fresh cañas – huh?). In fact, we only drank half the beers because we had to get going – and I can never finish a big beer anyhow – but when we went to pay he charged full price – 5€ for 2 large beers.
Let’s just say a very lively discussion ensued with the barman getting more and more heated, saying stuff like… “well, you drank it, didn’t you?” and “what am I supposed to do with that beer now?”… which, as you can imagine, didn’t go over very well with me. And yeah, I know it was just a couple of euros difference, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that this man purposely served me something I hadn’t ordered and then thought I was a Stupid Guiri who would just pay up and leave. Except I didn’t and – eventually and as always – victory was mine. Stupid Barman.
… or at least one of them. This is Rafael’s jamón cutting station at
This morning the IKEA guys came with all the new stuff and put everything together within three hours. Me? It would have probably taken three days – or more! BUT it meant that at 12.15 Peter and I were not only ready for “Beer O’clock”, but also that we were more than ready for the breakfast we hadn’t had time for.
Stuff like this just makes my day. After a couple of hours sorting out “papeles” at the social security office for my online digital certificate, and then setting up appointments for blood tests and my next oncology appointment, it was definitely BEER O’CLOCK. But then I remembered reading about a place I’d never been to (yep, there are still a few of them out there) so Peter and I walked over to the