I am the proud holder of a Spanish driver’s license. You cannot imagine how proud. I can't tell how much it cost me – I went into denial once I hit four figures (in pounds). Learning to drive is a wallet-wincing business anywhere, but in Spain even for souls less automobilistically-challenged than myself, it costs a veritable ojo de la cara (lit. an eye off your face). To add humiliation to insolvency, once you have jumped through all hoops, practical, theoretical and bureaucratic, you must announce your first year as a driver with a green L-plate stuck in your rear window. Still, that's all water under the bridge now. The beep-at-me-I'm-an-idiot-sign's in the bin and I can afford to put petrol in the car.