Spanish people weird me out

Spain has a 76% population of Catholics, apparently.

This didn't shock me because I knew that about Spain anyway. I knew that the majority are devoutly religious and attend quite impressive churches on a Sunday.

So why is prostitution so rife in tourist areas, completely unmonitored, and why is it so widely accepted?

I've seen so many on roadsides during my travels around the South-East part of the country, and they never seem to have any problems landing work, or standing on busy roundabouts trying to attract (and are often successful in attracting) business.

Don't get me wrong, each to their own and all that, but for a religious and moral country, they have a strange driving policy too. They drive their cars over speed-bumps as though they weren't there (they're definately not guilty of the sin of pride), and through zebra crossings like they're finishing lines.

Maybe it's more of a morbid fascination, but I still like them and their country though.

Pardon me while I move my car

Whilst on holiday in Spain, I experienced one of the funniest and strangest things I'm ever likely to see.

I was sat at a bar on the outskirts of a tourist town, which was part of a long line of tourist bars by a busy roundabout.

The hotels were cheap in the area, and there were prostitutes on the roundabout. I guess you can probably see from the way I'm phrasing this that the quality of singing entertainment at the bar adjacent to mine wasn't going to be of the highest quality, or as it turned out, professionalism.

I was half-listening to the bloke stood over to the left with the microphone churning out Jim Reeves covers, and terrible renditions of Eric Clapton favourites. Eventually, the time came to cover The Mavericks' "Dance the night away".

I groaned and slouched in my seat as the intensely average backing track produced the first synth-guitar chords that signified hell. However, my dismay at the choice of song was soon displaced by absolute astonishment as he dropped the microphone mid-way through the chorus and ran down the street.

The eyes of the four bars along the street followed this podgy little man running along the pavement, struggling for breath. It turned out, the race was to get to his car. The backing track continued to blare out of the speakers as he got into his car, and began to drive. It suddenly became clear what he was doing. He'd had his car parked on the Spanish equivalent of a no-parking area, and was moving it into a space he'd just noticed had become free.

And so, with The Mavericks playing loudly in the background, we saw the man reverse-bay-park his car, and then run back out just in time to catch the last chorus.

Absolutely unbelievable.

A rough guide to Spain

When visiting Spain, you're also aware that you're visiting a viewpoint to a completely different way of life. Attitudes to themselves and other people are wildly different from ourselves, and religion features as a prominent part of life.

Spain is also still a developing country and prone to ridiculous amounts of construction. The saying for London goes "You're never more than 6 feet away from a rat". In Spain the same rule applies, but with regard to the following objects instead:

• A crane
• A cockroach
• Mosquito
• Another crane
• A traffic cone
• Dust
• Yet another crane
• An insane driver

The last item of this list confused me throughout the time I was there.

In what part of the Catholic bible (The part of Spain I was in seemed predominantly Catholic) does it say "Thou shalt drive it like thou hast stole it"?

The suspension of the average Spanish car is dead within three weeks of taking off like the Dukes of Hazzard over speedbumps the size of a modest bungalow.

Zebra crossings there are not places to give way to pedestrians. They are merely dartboards for drivers to aim at and then utilise their horn furiously when you clearly misunderstand the Highway code d'España.

I've also never seen rudeness and ignorance outside London unless you're tipping them 10% of the bill. There's no voluntary kindness, and in the entire time I was there, one single Spanish person thanked me for letting them past whilst walking down a pavement.

Sod 'em. Where's my tea without UHT milk and my regulated climate?