In a follow up to the last post, here are the things I hate most about Spain -- 

• Ugly city dogs.  Almost every dog is scraggly, dirty, ugly, and slightly lame. And by lame I mean physically lame. I saw a dog with seal flippers for two back legs in Santillana, just outside Santander. These dogs are one step shy of an appearance on a menu somewhere on a different continent.
• Small showers. And dirty showers. Like those in dirty hostels, which are often accompanied by dramderie beds. That means the bed buckles in the middle, leaving two lumps at each end, like a camel.  Namely Hotel Bilbi. Never stay here, especially you, Marco.
• Coffee.  Spain is a coffee country, but I drink tea. Long ago when they were creating countries, each one had to pick coffee or tea. You must be one or the other; that´s just the rules. Spain chose coffee, and they chose poorly. (I bought a bag of tea, which I can do almost nothing with, in Santander just to support the guerilla tea industry in Spain.)
• Poor restaurant service. Sometimes it is also rude. Waiters in Spain make decent wages and do not rely on tips. That´s good news for their financial security but bad news for Americans used to attentive and friendly service.
• Tapas.  That´s right; I´m putting it on my "hate" list. I´m so over tapas. I had great tapas (pintxos even), many, many times. Now I´m ready for a "regular" meal. Seriously, Spain, get over the tapas. We know they´re small and cute and easy to eat, but some of us would like a menu and three courses to go with our poor service and indoor smoking.
• Siesta. They shut all their shops down from 2 to 5pm for a respite. It´s nice to eat a big lunch and nap, but really, for three hours? I´m just hitting my stride in the early afternoon, and after a "late" lunch at 2, I need a snack at 4 or 5, especially since dinner is not until 9 or later. Of course that´s too much to ask because everyone is at home not washing their dogs.
• Deodorant. Or the lack thereof. Sometimes I myself am guilty of fermenting under the arms and in special darkened corners of the body, but I do notice, and I do take action to remedy it. (Of course, that guy on the plane to Santander, he had slight b.o., and it seemed ok....)
• Language barrier. The novelty of speaking Spanish has worn off, and I am tired of sounding and looking dumb to strangers. All the people you need to speak a little English -- wait staff, bus drivers, clerks -- are the ones least likely to speak it. Those who do speak English -- university students and the literati -- don´t hang out at the post office or the Spanish CVS waiting to help tourists. Why can´t the Spaniards put pictures of what items are directly on the label, like they do in America? That way you don´t have to be able to read.
• Two words: watery beer. Also, it tastes like #1 -- as compared to #2, which would be worse I suppose.

Hopefully it´s clear, that this is mostly in jest.  I´ve had a lovely time, all the things above notwithstanding. That said, Bilbao has tired me unlike the other places. I´m not sure if loneline is setting in, or if it´s the sooty haze of an indutrial city, but I´m ready to head to San Sebastian tomorrow!