Every year they come. Every summer they arrive in Ireland and take over. They fill our public transport and our streets,
and one can scarcely hear oneself think over the din of their conversations in their strange, incomprehensible
language. They are Spaniards. Imagine a thousand donkeys in a room and you won't even come close to the noise and
smell of a tram full of Spanish foreign exchange students.
Donkeys seem to be the national emblem of Spain. On a recent holiday to the eastern coast of that country, one out of
every five cars on the roads had a sticker of the sillhouette of a donkey somewhere on it. I saw billboards advertising something
to do with donkeys and I passed at least five donkey farms on my travels.
Spain is home to some of the worst drivers in Europe. Taxis weave accross four lanes of heavy traffic and do u-turns
on the motorways while battered wrecks on wheels creep along at around thirty kilometers an hour. And there are tractors.
Tractors on a motorway. Tractors on a motorway hauling trailers overflowing with hay and donkeys. Lets not forget the
police chasing an articulated lorry with at least three blown-out tyres and a very drunk gringo at the wheel. Am I going back
next year? Not a chance.
Controversial Conclusion: The Spanish are a Load of Donkeys.
