Why Spain Isn’t in a Hurry

I believe that the moment you enter Spanish territory, the dimension of time becomes malleable. It still runs forward, but now it has expanded into something solid — a big, tangible glop that stretches and bends. You must accept that you have to move slowly, and with precise movements, if you want to get anywhere at all. No matter which laws of physics you believe should apply, or how fast your calculations say you ought to move, it won’t work. 

You are caught in it. You are going to go slowly. And it can’t be helped.

Last Friday, my husband had a dentist appointment at 10:00 a.m. After thirty minutes of waiting, he was still sitting there, uncured and unnoticed. During that time, nobody contacted him or apologized for the delay. By 10:35, he stood up to leave — he had meetings scheduled and time, apparently, still mattered to him.

The receptionist was genuinely puzzled. How could he leave? He was about to be called. He was already at the doctor’s practice. Spanish words flew — charged with the usual speed reserved for speaking (that’s when time suddenly accelerates to compensate for its slow outward motion) — along with emotion, gestures, and the unmistakable facial expressions of southern disbelief and offense. The rest is history. No appointment was rescheduled. Both parties’ egos were deeply wounded.

“Cultural difference” is already an overused explanation for everything foreigners fail to grasp about living here. You can be told that the country operates at a different tempo, but receiving that information and truly assimilating it is a daunting task.

I remember that one of the first phrases my mother-in-law learned when she moved here to spend her pensioner years was “tranquilo, mañana.” Funny but very insightful at the same time. 

What’s going on with these people? Don’t they want to go places? Get things done? Make money? Expand? Be productive? Move forward? Be on top?

Short answer: no.

You may have heard the story of the fisherman and the businessman. The businessman asks the fisherman how he spends his days. The fisherman explains: he fishes a little, sells his catch, has a beer with his mates, makes love to his wife in the afternoon, and takes a walk down the pier in the evening.

The businessman laughs. He is busy creating wealth — to buy a mansion, gain access to exclusive social clubs, send his children to the best private schools, and retire at sixty-five. When he finally retires in glory, he will buy a boat, fish a little under the sun, call whichever friends are still around for a few beers, perhaps make love to his wife (if it isn’t too late), and enjoy a slow walk down the jetty.

They say Spanish people have mastered the art of life. And it’s true. Why rush? The day has only just begun. The sun will last long. Plenty can be done. If you rush, you are in a bad mood, your face grows serious, and enjoyment evaporates. Isn’t it better to have your second coffee at 9:30, and almuerzo around 11:00 with your colleagues, and trust that things will be done anyway? Why not do them in a way that causes minimal distress, so you still go home feeling happy and recharged?

When you stop to think about it, it kind of makes sense.

You see, for the receptionist at the dentist’s practice, my husband was extremely rude. How could he abandon an appointment they had made for him? And more importantly, how could he feel offended by a delay when they were going to see him? An apology was owed — and the least he could do was wait.

Time flows slowly because there is plenty of it. Because bureaucracy is part of the country’s DNA. Because there is a genuine fondness for stacks of paper stamped and signed, for ten-step application processes, for obscure laws and systems that underpin everyday life and can only be deciphered by a select few. We like things wordy and long. And no matter how good your Spanish is, you’ll still need an advisor or a lawyer to explain it all — after you finally get a cita, during which they will arrive late because there was no parking, and anyway, who shows up exactly on time?

This country remains loyal to its way of life. It has been so for hundreds of years. It doesn’t change, and it doesn’t want to. There is enough. Plenty, even. And even when, to the outsider, it might not look that way, people are happy.

And when you are happy — why would you want to go fast?