The party was on the rooftop of the Axel Hotel, with a swimming pool in which you weren’t allowed to swim at night.
Probably because of the pool and people running around on bare feet at daytime, all drinks were served in plastic glasses. Fancy-looking, but plastic all the same.
And why not? I thought it was rather nice that the hotel poured (expensive) drinks in unbreakable glasses. But then I looked at the beer bottles. Glass bottles.
“If anything sums up Spain, it’s these plastic glasses and the glass bottles,” the Scottish guy said.
I realized he was right: just when you think things are well arranged in Spain, something messes it all up again. And to be honest, that inconsistency is even a bit charming. After all, perfection is boring.