And rench guy asks me for a light in an English worse than mine and tells me a joke in French about, I think, a torero. That relaxes me, at the end of the day maybe the odd Europeans are them.

People look at us oddly. The thing is that Scandinavians, apart from the fact that they are normally more attractive, thinner and more elegant than we are, are extremely educated, always abide by the rules and, above all, less noisy than the Latin. I soon perceive ruckus in one of the tables of the bar of the airport: yells in Italian.

The voices of the Spanish who have arrived with me to Copenhagen’s Kastrup Airport are the only ones perceptible. They stand out amidst the organized and silent human tide because of the high pitch of their voices and their booming laughs. They move -me included- the hands like mills and, most of them, are smoking (although it’s forbidden).

And well, they almost have it. As soon as I disembark from the plane a sensation of clumsiness surrounds me, a certain complex of Latin that once would have made me feel proud, but which, after some minutes, make me feel confused. What happens?