As you know, the Spanish are heavily into "tapas," those small dishes which come in a million and one varieties of food, commonly fish, ham (pork), and fried items. I eavesdropped, err, overheard a conversation between some American girls in a tapas restaurant. One of them was complaining about the small portions. She told her friends, "One of these nights I'd like to have a full dinner!" Note: If you look up the word "tapas" it translates to "still hungry."
The weather here in Granada is both good and interesting. It's chilly at night and cool in the morning. At one o'clock in the afternoon, on the dot, it suddenly gets very warm (about 95 degrees, but low humidity). This is the part of the day when the locals close up shop and head home for "siesta." The Spaniards may have invented the siesta, but with the onset of retirement yours truly has perfected it. One can even say I have elevated it to an art form. (Okay, I admit it. I used to siesta when I was employed, but not in the literal sense. It was more like what psychologist John Bradshaw would call a "trance." This is something all office workers do in order to make it through the day, year after year).
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