Give us a kiss

We’re on the beach, freshly changed into our swimsuits for the daily dip when a neighbour approaches to introduce her friend Eva, a slim, attractive woman considerably younger than me (that's not difficult) and clad in a minimal bikini.

'Encantado,' I tell her (delighted to meet you) in the proper Spanish manner then, perhaps knocked off balance by the splendid cleavage, I offer her my hand. This is not Spanish at all, it's ridiculously British.

'Un besito!' (a little kiss) admonishes Eva quite rightly, and offers me her right cheek then her left. I happily oblige, having absolutely no problem in sharing little kisses with beautiful women. 'We kiss a lot, we Spanish,' she explains, which of course I've known for the last thirty years, it's one of my favourite characteristics, but somehow the British reserve still pops up when I take my foot off its neck.

Accompanying this pleasant woman is her equally attractive teenage daughter in jeans and teeshirt who has been up all night partying. She collapses onto the sand and falls asleep within moments of arriving so plays no part in the interchange, which is perhaps fortunate because otherwise I might have multiplied my social failure. The other day, another woman we already knew stopped for a chat in the street, also trailing a teenage daughter. This one managed to remain awake during the conversation and, as we hadn’t met before, her mother introduced us. We both failed to greet her with a besito, just said 'Hi', which in Spain is less than you'd offer a tortoise. Why, for goodness' sake?

It's because the instant intimacy of kissing just doesn't come naturally to us creatures of the cooler North. We've even developed the air kiss to avoid actual contact. Yet it's so nice, this Spanish physicality, it feels so right when you get used to it.

Men don't generally kiss other men in Spain but they do touch each other to an extent that would raise eyebrows in Britain. Look, for example, at Antonio and Ramón, two senior citizens, slowly approaching each other in the street. They pause, exchange a word of greeting, then both reach out to hold the other's arm or shoulder while swapping a bit of news, before moving on.

Look at those two younger guys wearing skateboard gear. They do the vertical handclasp favoured by youth and American presidents, then they pat each other on the arm, then one of them punches the other playfully in the chest.

You will never see two people greet each other without some form of physical contact. I've got used to people rubbing my upper arm as though offering comfort - 'Keep your pecker up, things can only get better!' but they're not doing that at all, they're just saying hello, nice to see you. Waiters and waitresses who know you may lean on your shoulder while taking your order.

I love it all and I'm gradually improving my contact skills. I can even rub somebody's arm with convincing fluency.

But here's a health warning: never carry this behaviour back with you to the UK. When you've experienced someone going rigid with alarm at being hispanically hugged you'll realise that, like fresh bananas, goat cheese and Barcelona football shirts, this kind of behaviour just doesn't travel well.