Sobremesa and Life in the Streets

Much of Spanish life is lived in the streets and the atmosphere is vibrant – especially on Sundays. Last Sunday, being turistas (tourists), we made a grave error – we went to a restaurant wearing our “walking” clothes, and we were decidedly under-dressed and unprepared. So we’ve been waiting, anticipating, all week to make amends for our earlier lack of insight.

The Sunday lunch is a great Spanish tradition – it’s when local restaurants are full of large groups, enjoying a long meal served with plenty of wine. It’s a time for everyone to dress up, get together and discuss what’s happened during the week. Sunday lunches last for several hours, until late afternoon. And then it’s time for the “sobremesa” (sobre = on or about |mesa = table). It’s the time when everyone just sits around the table, chatting away. It’s about good food, friends and communication.

Today, we were dressed to the nines! Heels, makeup, new coat – and that was just Ross! LOL. But actually, we looked and felt pretty awesome as we strolled along the paseo marítimo with all the other stylish Spanish people. It’s a 3km walk to the restaurant, along the promenade next to the beach. The sun was shining brightly, but it was windy and cool. The turquoise waters of the Mediterranean Sea was whipped into white caps.

In our restaurant, we people watched. There was an elegant couple, dancing (at 3pm in the afternoon – there was live music – it was Sunday). He was in his 70s, and wore bright yellow trousers, a red sweater, striped cravat and aviator sunglasses. Is he famous? It’s hard to tell (he looked like an elderly, silver haired version of Tom Cruise). Is he rich? Most certainly! His wife is beautiful. She looks about 50, super thin with blonde, luxurious hair and full, pouty lips. It’s only when you look at her arms and neck that you realise she’s 70 too – but has a great plastic surgeon. Go girl!!

After lunch (which incidentally, doesn’t finish until about 5pm), it’s time for ‘el paseo’, the custom which sees Spaniards (and a couple of #wannabeSpanish Aussies) leisurely stroll through the main streets, or in our case, along the Paseo Maritimo. By 6pm, the streets are filled with people, walking, chatting, arms linked. There are families, couples, young people, old people and just about every other combination. This goes on for a few hours until it’s time for a late dinner.

However, there was no late dinner for us – mainly because lunch finished so late!!! Instead, we drink vino blanco at the “Frank Sinatra Bar”, where you overlook the Esplanade that separates the Marina from the upmarket shops. From our perch in the bar, we look out to the marina. There’s a massive boat-type thing there which I want to call a yacht, but I know that not it. What do you call a luxury boat without sails? At what size does a boat become a ship? I’m all adrift here (see what I just did there?).

Outside the glass doors of the bar, designer dogs (los perros) with mini fur coats and diamante collars stroll past – attached to owners with thick, brunette hair, in sky-high stilettos and leather skirts. The men are in ¾ length cashmere jackets, designer scarves and smoking Cuban cigars. We’re not in Kansas anymore Toto!

Right outside, there’s a Bentley – it’s old, with green and black paintwork, and apparently it’s pretty expensive. We take photos. So do several other people (it’s a recreational sport here, everyone does it).

Every minute or so, another expensive car drives past (it’s a shared zone, so the cars drive slowly for 2 main reasons: firstly, for pedestrian safety and secondly, and most importantly, so everyone can look at them.

Ross and I play a game with the rather unimaginative title of “the car betting game” – where cars of different models, have different betting odds. We bet on: 1) the model of the next car to drive past; 2) the model of the next car to park in THAT parking spot etc. For instance, a Maserati is 100 to 1 (having said that, I saw three of them tonight) while Mercedes, BMW and Audi are even-money BECAUSE THAT’S HOW COMMON THEY ARE. Any cars of Japanese make, are 30 to 1 – because even though they are cheap, you just don’t see them here.

In other news, in tonight’s edition of “Name That Car” I successfully identified a red Ferrari California, on sight, from a distance of 50 paces. However, all my good work (let’s call it a fluke) was undone 2 hours later when I referred to the aforementioned car as a Porsche – hahahahaha