1936 On the Continent

good-tempered word for you as true sons of that blessed sunny country along the Mediterranean.
    Such is Monte Carlo. Artificial on the surface because artificiality is the mark of our days and gala nights, and all sorts of elegant competitions draw much more visitors than the loveliest of scenery. But the real Monte Carlo is a charming little town, a mixture of old and modern, a precious gem in an astonishingly beautiful setting.

SPAIN
by
LAWRENCE WOLFE
    TABLE OF CONTENTS

SPAIN
    To the average Englishman who has never been to Spain the name of the country is merely the first link in a chain of ideas comprising bull-fights, castanets, mantillas and onions. There is also a widespread belief in England that the Spanish people are indolent and lazy, and that
mañana, mañana
(to-morrow, to-morrow), is the most frequently used phrase in the Spanish language.
    This light-hearted essay is intended not only to enlighten you on all these momentous matters but also to show you that there are many other things in Spain. Above all, there are a great many Spaniards there and, perhaps to your own surprise, you will almost certainly take an instant liking to them.
    But before I go any further I feel I ought to say something about the feature of Spanish life of which, as a high-minded Englishman—or woman—you disapprove most, to wit, the perfectly shocking practice of bull-fighting. You think it is cruel, inhuman, degrading. Perhaps so. We will see when we attend a bull-fight. But lest you enter Spain with a firmly fixed prejudice in your mind, allow me to point out one redeeming aspect of Spain’s favourite sport—
the referee is never, never man-handled at bull-fights
.…
    Ponder that, and you will no doubt come to the conclusion that Spain and the Spanish cannot be so bad after all.
    In purchasing odds and ends for your journey to Spain you may quite safely omit to consult Mr. Keating, in spite of all you may have heard to the contrary. The hotels listed by the
Patronato Nacional del Turismo
(State Tourist Department), particulars of which you will be given as we go along, are quite clean, and if you choose to go to strange places Mr. Keating will in any case wash his hands of you.
Passport and Customs
    You will need a passport to enter Spain, but no visa. You will have to register with the police within forty-eighthours of your arrival, but that formality will be attended to by the staff of the hotel where you happen to be staying.
    With the customs you will have no difficulty, unless you are a drug smuggler, which of course you are not. At whatever point you enter Spain the customs official who examines your luggage will probably apologise to you in English for putting you to this necessary inconvenience. If a customs official should take a fancy to you and desire to detain you for a brief chat, he—or you—may enlist the aid of the uniformed interpreter who is available at most frontier stations, as well as at some other places. There is no charge for this service, though it will not be difficult to persuade the interpreter to accept a gratuity.
Spanish Courtesy
    You will meet with similar courtesy and helpfulness everywhere in Spain, unless you come up against one of the fat beggars in Madrid and ignore his request for alms. Otherwise the Spanish are charming hosts. But do not think that this is because you are bringing good English currency into the country. The Spanish are not a greedy race, and they do not care a tinker’s cuss whether you visit their country or not, but once you are there they treat you as men and brothers. When travelling on the Spanish railways do not be surprised if a native fellow traveller offers you a cigarette or part of his lunch, and be assured that this is not an empty gesture. They treat each other in the same way, though, for the Spaniard does not consider it “nice” to smoke or eat alone in the presence of others.
The Best Drinks
    Talking of food reminds me of drink, and here is a tip that holds good throughout Spain. If you want the best red wine ask for Marchese de Murieta; the best white wine can be obtained at the Bodegas Bilbainas; while excellent beer is available everywhere.
    From wine we ought to go on to women, but my remarks on Spanish señoras and señoritas are intended to run like a golden thread through the whole of this essay and cannot be condensed into a single passage. Here, where I ammerely endeavouring to educate you to the right frame of mind in which to