If you ever find yourself dressing for you first ever flamenco dance lesson, and you’re anything like me and unable to keep count of what you’re doing, and added to that, the lesson is being taught in a language that you don’t yet speak, I suggest you were rubber soled shoes. That way nobody hears when you get it wrong every time. I signed up to a salsa class. Then something Spanish happened and the salsa class became a flamenco class. Now I’m not saying I would have been able to follow a salsa class either, but as our flamenco teacher explained: Flamenco es muy técnico. And if flamenco is very difficult, by the time I’d gotten to yesterday evening, my brain had overloaded with really thrilling questions like – do they sell those biodegradable organic waste bags in the supermarket? Very difficult was not within my remit. However, there was at least one other woman as incompetent as me, and I admired her for she excelled in having a good time regardless of the complexity of the situation. Plus, I learnt how to elegantly stick cash in my bra whilst dancing. And that was a good giggle just by itself. Uno billete por el autobús por favor. Somewhere in the city I’m assured is a place where you can buy travel cards for getting around. I haven’t yet worked this out, but I’m looking forward to doing so because once I actually have a travel card I’ll be able to swipe my card when I get on a bus and won’t have to have an awkward interaction with the driver where I try and pronounce the place where I want to go and they raise their eyebrows and say the same thing as I have just said in an eighth of the time and then wait for the money. The last one helpfully waved a two-euro coin at me with a ‘you need a coin like this’ look. I was trying to be helpful and find a five-cent piece so that I could give him the exact change, but I gave up and gave him two euros instead. I miss the ‘thanks love’ that you get back home. Gracias. If I don’t sound Spanish, I really don’t look Spanish. Women’s fashion here, as far as I can tell, is simple. It’s a white t-shirt. I’m not kidding, I’ve seen hundreds of women in a variety of white t-shirts. There might have been a dozen on the bus. They look like a washing powder advert. Now it’s time to go and tackle another day. Wish me luck.