Ritual greetings

I don't know if you're old enough to remember a short lived comedy series on the BBC called Fawlty Towers but, if you are, you will remember the waiter, Manuel, played by Andrew Sachs. Trading on the popularity of the Manuel character the BBC used Sachs as their guinea pig, a typical Spanish learner, for their beginner's series called Get by in Spanish. In one of the first lessons the word "adiós" was highlighted as a way to greet someone when you didn't have time to stop and speak. So, you see someone you know but you have to be somewhere else, you don't have time to exchange even the most desultory of conversations. You can't possibly simply look the other way or pretend to be inspecting the pavement so you use that one single word to greet, acknowledge and dismiss your friend, or acquaintance, as you speed on your way. 

I think "adiós" as a greeting underpins the Spanish attitude to acknowledging other people.

Imagine you have ended up in a Spanish social situation with quite a lot of people in a room. The person you are with will introduce you to everyone - one by one. If you're a man you shake hands with other men and do the two cheek kissing thing with all the women. Women do the two cheek kisses with everyone. For a street meeting with a friend who introduces you to their boyfriend/girlfriend/partner/mother in law and so on you'd do the greetings just the same. If the meeting were brief, a few moments, you might need to follow the same ritual for goodbye.

On entering a public space it's not at all unusual to give a general greeting to everyone. We were on a trip to Italy with a bunch of Spanish people and the majority of people greeted the other coach passengers with a cheery "Buenos días" as they breasted the top of the stairs to get on the bus. The same happens when people walk into the Post Office, a bank or a bar. The majority of Spanish people say hello to everyone by launching their greeting at nobody in particular. Equally as you're about to leave the bar or a restaurant it's not at all unusual to let fly a cheery goodbye, hasta luego or adiós, into the ether. Indeed if you're in a restaurant you can be a bit more specific and direct a “que aproveche”or “buen provecho" at other diners as you pass - it's a Spanish version of bon appetit and though grammatical purists complain about the phrases it's what people say.

I was reminded of this determination to acknowledge other people just before Christmas when I made a terrible mistake and signed up for a walk to the top of el Cid, the flat topped mountain on the border between Petrer and Monforte del Cid. My lungs are scarred from 40 years of smoking cigars and I could hardly breathe from the first steps out of the car park to the moment when we reached our goal - eating our sandwiches on the summit. It's apparently a bit of a Christmas tradition in Petrer to go up the mountain in festive clothing so there were all sorts of runners and walkers sporting Santa hats and reindeer antlers up and down the path as I panted and gasped upwards. I was pretty much centred on keeping breathing to stay alive but I swear that every damned person who passed said hello or good day or some such to me and to the every individual in the group. I did my best to bleat out a response.

I am particularly gormless in almost any social interaction. I much prefer to keep a low profile and I can never bring myself to do this greeting the whole room thing, even when I remember it's what should be done. I'm even more inept at the two cheeks kissing with women. Getting that close to a woman I hardly know is very near to sexual harassment in my old fashioned play book. This causes me a minor problem in Spain when I hesitate to go around, for instance the people from the neighbourhood association, air kissing and hand shaking. They expect it, to them it's normal, I don't do it and so, in their minds, I become a standoffish foreigner. It's difficult to teach an old dog new tricks though and, for years, I have greeted even my closest family members with a little nod, a shrug of the shoulders and a vague (Yorkshire) greeting "a'reet?"

Muak! Muak!

I'm not particularly good with people. I'm not particularly outgoing. I'm terrible at remembering faces (well whole bodies come to that) and I can forget names within a couple of sentences of being introduced. The opening phrases of a greeting are usually banal, sometimes surreal and occasionally bizarre. Greetings take me by surprise. It would probably be better if I stayed at home with a good book.

The other day some people that I do recognise on the streets, members of a Spanish family, had one of the older members die. I didn't know what the form was so I didn't do anything. I wondered about going to the tanatorio, I wondered about the mass but a mix of embarrassment, fear of speaking Spanish and my general diffidence meant that I did nothing. As ill luck would have it I bumped into one of the family a few days later. She greeted me, we did the two cheeks kissing, I failed to understand what she'd said to me, I failed to pass on my condolences and as she walked away I felt completely inadequate and kicked myself for not being up to the situation.

In my grey formative years those foppish French went in for that kissing each other thing. We steadfast Britons on the other hand maintained the creases in our trousers and shook hands. I know - we were all repressed. I am aware that nowadays even handshakes require some sort of hand twisting routine that I have never quite mastered. My dad taught me the basics of 1950s handshaking and Mr. Plant, the local greengrocer, had strong views on my posture, on the firmness of grip and the length of time of hand holding between men which he was happy to share. It didn't dawn on me, for years, that Mr Plant the greengrocer sounds like a made up, Happy Families, name. Nowadays preferring a politician style firm handshake is tantamount to admitting a sordid past and a pressing need to make an appointment with an analyst. My unease at performing a mutual back massage on greeting people whose name I should know and the need to be intimate with everyone down to the postie signals me out as an emotional casualty.

In fact I don't really care if someone I hardly know wants to slap me on the back or give me a bear hug. I probably file it in the hypocritical tosh section of my mental filing system but my facial expression will be tolerant or even approving. I squirm more when people substitute "Love you", for goodbye at the end of a phone call. Nothing like overuse to devalue something. That said I don't care for hugging or being hugged as a greeting or farewell but the reason is practical rather than my lack of sensitivity. I have no idea how I am supposed to do it. As vague acquaintances move into my personal space in their attempt to hug, kiss or exchange bodily fluids with me I usually end up treading on their toes (or having my toes trodden on) bumping foreheads or elbowing them in the kidneys. I've also broken several pairs of the reading specs because they are habitually hanging from a cord around my neck. I think the problem is that, even now, we Britons lack a proper set of instructions. 

Now the French know how to do it and so do the Spanish. Spaniards grew up with a routine probably reinforced by Señor Planta. Men here generally do the hand on the shoulder and handshake goodbye but it's common to see men, close family, saying goodbye with the double cheek kissing thing. Men to women and women to men for greetings and farewells is usually cheek grazing. First go left, touch cheeks then go right and touch cheeks. More contact for more familiarity. Easy as pie. Even I can do it. There's a routine, an understood set of actions. It's not at all false or over emotional it's simply shaking hands with the face. I do it as naturally as I do anything that requires any level of social interaction and I'm sure Mr Plant would be fine with it too.