Wake up and smell the coffee

The price of a cuppa

It matters very little that the price of a cup is three times more expensive in the UK than Spain, but if you tried nursing one for three hours with a book or laptop in any kind of British cafe, you'd soon get asked to leave or buy another one. In Spain though, drinking coffee is the kind of  pleasure even the hardest bitten cafeteria owners understand and actively seem to encourage. And do you know the best thing, out here you can join in with your Compaq or John Grisham and all for not much more than a Euro.

Truth be told it's probably far simpler to brew up in your own kitchen, indeed some folk, but not many, actually do. Only once you live in Spain can you appreciate the allure of a lengthy glance at that days newspaper whilst people watching from a cafe terrace supping from a cup full of any one of a multitude of different hot beverage options, all of which include coffee beans. Personally, I fell in love with the cafe culture not long after arriving in the country, whilst simultaneously figuring out four or five daily rations of caffeine without milk and sugar probably wasn't conducive to a decent night's sleep. Thereafter de-caf, (descafeinado), was the order of the day - something akin to loving the pub but only drinking alcohol free lager I guess.

Loads to choose from

In Spain, late morning is coffee time and the bar owner can set his or her watch by which regular is in and when. It doesn't matter where you choose, the scenario you're faced with is almost always identical; shop girls pop in for a cafe con leche and a baguette prior to opening up about nine thirty, sharp suited business types, groups of three or four middle aged ladies, young couples, and, my personal favourite, gnarled up old blokes noisily slamming dominoes onto polished tables, narrowly missing tiny cups of super strength dark liquid. People from all walks of life swing by and on their way out pass on to the next table the latest edition of El Pais newspaper or Marca sports daily. This then is the typical clientele of a typical cafeteria in any number of typical towns on a typical work day morning.

Out you go

But suddenly, for about half of these ordinary folk, things would never be the same again because as New Year's Day effortlessly became Sunday the 2nd of January, Spain enacted the harshest anti-smoking laws in Europe and the hazy happiness of countless Marlboro Lite aficionados up and down the country was lost forever. Actually, that last bit isn't actually true, anyone who wishes can still indulge in their carcinogenic bliss but only outside and not near kiddies playgrounds, school gates or adjacent to hospitals. I've not smoked for fourteen months, and so now, as an ex-puffer, I need to find a piece of fence strong enough to support my considerable weight and then sit on it. The new law also now includes restaurants which is a great idea because dining out of an evening almost invariably includes the whole family, children included. Fags in the work place were banned five years ago- er, maybe I should rephrase that, but I think you know what I mean. This too isn't such a bad thing because non-smokers amongst the work force are there all day and breathing in their colleagues second hand blue mist, just like the passive smokers in an eating establishment, isn't optional.

But, from my humble point of view, it's the now sanitised and considerably less busy cafeterias that have lost the most and no longer resemble a snapshot of traditional Spanish life; an impression emphasised by customers being compelled to leave their half drunk brews to huddle in doorways or share body warmth out in the street tapping the ends of various cigarettes into already over full ashtrays. Still, at least the Spanish aren't banished outside in the cold and rain whilst being mugged for a tenner every time they buy a packet of twenty.