Summer in Spain

So I defy anyone to try and work in Spain during the month of August.  This doesn’t include people in the tourism and restaurant industry—I work my bartenders like rented mules during August. People in the bar business know that they have to take advantage of August to make up for the month when people like me don’t drink very much, you know, that month that comes every four years at the end of February. That month sucks.  Most people in Spain don’t do anything at all in August.  Here are a few things about August in Iberia.

Summer in Spain is…

…the only time I drink sangria.  The truth is that I would prefer a glass of chilled red wine to sangria or tinto de verano (red wine mixed with sprite). Sangria just looks more festive than a boring bottle of wine so I appreciate the esthetics.

…when my feet look like hell. I don’t actually ever wash them, not officially. I mean that I don’t scrub them. They just get wet when I’m in the shower; sort of like collateral damage. I never wear shoes in the summer except when I put on my cycling shoes for my daily ride. The rest of the time I just wear flip flops as evidenced by the tan lines on my feet. I bought a couple pairs of sandals that I thought would be a little dressier for the summer months but I just can’t be bothered to put them on. I need to go to Jo’s new place Kiss My Feet. I’ve never had a manicure or a pedicure. It’s like a friend said when I mentioned that I had never dyed my hair and was thinking about it in order to be a little less gray. “It’s a slippery slope, that first time.” He didn’t say just what I would be sliding into but I got the point.