It’s shocking how badly those of us who were born in the British Isles are at speaking any language other than English. I have a penchant for trying anytime I go somewhere they speak other languages although it sometimes gets me into more bother…

Today’s cycle was on the Girona greenways, aka Via Verdes, an old narrow gauge railway track now used for cycling and walking. Top marks for insisting dogs are kept on leads. 


We decided that as it was 40km each way to the coast we didn’t need a lift back. So an easy ride down; total 44km at an average heart rate just into 3 figures despite the heavy bikes and soft surface. Lovely. 

Once there, lunch plus a swim for me in one of the many kilometres of marked swim lanes, Vies Braves, along the Costa Brava. It’s easy to forget that sea swimming is hard, but as it was my first swim in warm water this year I loved every moment


On the way home we stopped just before the half way point at a restaurant converted from one of the old stations. I ordered agua con gas for JT, Coca Cola for me plus patatas fritas since JT wanted crisps. 

Cue the waiter with plates, forks and Heinz tomato ketchup… you can take the girl out of Glasgow but she doesn’t always want chips!

Discussion with the waiter (who was a Geordie so easy to sort out the order) and he tells me patatas fritas are chips so I should order patatas chips if I want crisps. Eh??? If you don’t want chips order patatas chips? If you do want chips, don’t order chips??? WTF?

And then the crisps arrived. In a pack that was emblazoned “patatas fritas”. 

I’m sure it makes sense to someone somewhere. Or maybe it’s a Catalan thing…

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