On Attempting (Unsuccessfully) To Meet Spanish Girls
We’ve been told repeatedly that we need to make Spanish friends to truly experience the culture here. Naturally, I think this would best be done by hitting on Spanish chicks. But after a week of trying, I must report that it’s easier said than done.
First, girls don’t really shake hands here. Instead, when you meet a girl you have to do this double-cheek kiss thing that looks cool but is actually pretty unnerving if you’re not used to it. Already, I’ve had several introductions where they’ve gone in for the kiss while I’ve simply outstretched my hand. The worst is when the greeting ends with nothing more than us staring dumbly at each other from a foot apart and mumbling “hola.” A great start to the interaction, right?
Anyway, despite the fact that we haven’t really mastered how to make a great first impression, my friends and I decided a couple of days ago to see if we could meet some Spanish chicas. So we took our culture teacher’s advice and headed to a “botellon,” which is basically a bunch of kids gathering in public to drink large amounts of alcohol.
After a few minutes of just standing around in the midst of the chaos, two of my friends made the bold decision to approach two very attractive Spanish girls who appeared to be alone.
What followed was one of the more awkward experiences I’ve ever seen. Somehow they managed to pull off the cheek kisses—barely (and not without some giggling)—but then the trouble began. My friend Josh Brower is one of the most socially adept people I know, but it took him about 45 seconds to conjugate the verb “to be” so he could say we were from the United States.
Josh also managed to say we were students and the girls said they were students too—kind of. My friend Gabe Haack pressed further, asking how old the girls were, and we learned the hilariously horrifying truth: they were 16 years old.
As Gabe pondered later, “is it even legal to talk to people that young in public?”
The awkwardness of the age difference pretty much ended the conversation, and the girls kind of slid back to their group of friends without saying goodbye.
Attempting to regroup, us Americans made a mental note for future reference: Spanish girls look older than they are.
As for the rest of night, there was no a second attempt. My friends and I cut our losses and headed for our favorite American bar in Sevilla. It was exactly what we’re not supposed to be doing, but hey, there’s only so much you can take in one night.
Hopefully next time goes a little better.
