Little known 'serviette rule' every tourist breaks in Spain

Tourists be warned: there's an important serviette grabbing rule you need to know before visiting the land of greasy ox tail stews and mouth-stuffing ajo campero (a delicious puree of garlic, capsicum, tomato, olive oil and bread).

My girlfriend’s mum likes to think she civilised me. A wild untamed Aussie, brought in from “la jungla” (the jungle), no matter how many years have passed since I first arrived in Spain, she always likes to remind me that when I first got there I used to wipe my mouth with my hand, walk around barefoot, and not drink any alcohol. 

For shame. 

Now I’m a proper honorary (I like to think) adopted European. After living in Jerez, a city in the south of Spain, from 2015 to 2018, I now know how to - with the precision of a nuclear physicist - pick up a serviette (and actually use it), walk around wearing shoes and drink at least one beer a day.

Even though I’m now back in Australia, a recent trip back to Andalucia reminded me of all those things it taught me.

The dregs of a small "botellin" of beer and strawberries. A winning combo.

So, with our chins perfectly clean, a cold Alhambra beer in our stomachs, perfectly angled afternoon light streaming into the patio and with "el toldo" (the awning) perfectly adjusted, here's everything Australia ought to learn from Spain - including one very important napkin grabbing rule I  learned the hard way.

Using serviettes 

It took me longer than I should to learn this one.

Did you know there is an art to picking up a serviette? No one ever told me this; it’s kind of unwritten. But after a few months of making a fumbling mess of it and staining the edges of a good three or four serviettes every time I tried to pick just one up, I realised: you’ve got to poke a finger down in the middle of the top of the pile; this lifts the edges up, enabling for an accurate grab. Especially important when sitting outside with "levante" wind.

La sobremesa 

The washing up can wait. Have a chat. Or an adult conversation. And another drink. Clanging pots and pans while your guests are still eating is the height of rudeness. 

Parking on roundabouts 

Hazard lights on; it's time for Churros.

You mightn’t call this civilised behaviour, but patience is a virtue. One distinctly lacking in many places in Australia (cough, Bondi Road, cough…). And learning how to park on a roundabout (or next to the bakery), as well as developing the patience to not get upset by these offences, is something of a fine art…

Queuing

“Quien es el ultimo?” (“Who is the last?”) is the first thing most people say when they arrive at the doctors, as they sit down outside their GP’s door. This negates the need to stand in a queue - you just have to remember who is in front of you (“el ultimo”) and keep an eye out for when they go in - then you know you’re next. People do the same thing in queues all over - sometimes even when queuing for churros at the side of a roundabout.

Drinking baby beer 

Down to earth countryside restaurants with cheap young wine ("mosto") is another thing Spain does best.

In both England and Australia, I’ve had both close friends and family throw retrograde insults my way for ordering a half pint. However, in Spain, it’s not seen as a cowardly act to sip on a small beer - that’s the default setting. Unless you ask for “una media” (and even those are only about 350ml) you will get a caña (about 200ml). 

Oh and in the supermarket, even the bottles are smaller (there are normal size 350ml bottles available, but cute little “botellins,” which don’t exist in Australia, are very popular). Even if you want to drink a lot, I still prefer this, because you never end up with a flat warm quarter of a pint or bottle that you have to grimace and gulp.

Having no coffee sizes

Marie Kondo would be proud.

In my experience in Spain, there is no "small" or "large" sizes when you order a coffee. It comes as it comes. And it's actually something of a blessed relief - one less thing to remember.

Umbrellas for the humidity 

I’m not a meteorologist, and I have no idea how this works. But once the sun goes down, they bring out the umbrellas and put them up (in winter) on the bar terraces, to protect you from the humidity.

Nightlife 

I don’t know what it is. But there is a touch more sophistication to it all. Less 18 year olds drinking goon in the park and terrorising other age groups with anti-social antics, and then heading to the club at 11pm vibes, more families and friends sitting on terraces and drinking gin and tonics at 11pm vibes. More integrated, or something. Plus: they know the secret to never getting bloated, or hungover.

Community bonding 

From horse fairs to fire fiestas (like this one in extremadura where a whole village runs around hitting each other with flaming brooms), Spain has great community bonding exercises. 

Polite toll machines 

Though I do prefer Sydney’s e-Toll system where you don’t have to stop at all, it is delightfully quaint when, when driving from Jerez to Malaga, you stop to pay at the toll machine and a robot very politely thanks you for your money and wishes you a good journey. 

Soccer

Kids don't have to get driven around all over the place and play in expensive academies to get good here. You see them playing all over the place - in the street, in the park, just casually. Even the Golden Retrievers have skills... 

Train bars 

On my recent trip from Jerez to Madrid, the people who were nominally sitting next to us spent the entire journey standing up and chatting in the bar carriage, eating ham "bocadillos" and drinking beer. It's criminal we don't have this in Australia. 

Bar staff treat patrons like adults

Rather than revellers getting regarded with extreme suspicion by bouncers, there are (in many cases) no bouncers. And rather than bar staff measuring your gin and tonic with a shot glass and extreme prejudice, they free pour it in front of you, and you get to say "when" or "la botella entera" (they might not give you the whole bottle, but you'll probably get a wink and a dash extra).

Originally published as Little known 'serviette rule' every tourist breaks in Spain