7 “innocent” phrases that secretly annoy people in Spain

I love Spain: The food, the late sunsets, and the way a long lunch can feel like a mini vacation.

However, I also learned the hard way that some things we say, especially as visitors or new arrivals, can rub people the wrong way.

Not because anyone is overly sensitive, but because a few totally “innocent” phrases come loaded with assumptions about culture, food, language, and daily rhythm.

Below are seven I’ve heard, used, or cringed at; I’m sharing them with fixes you can use today so you connect better, eat better, and avoid being “that” person at the bar!

1) "Do you have paella?"

I get it, paella is iconic.

The problem is that leading with “Do you have paella?” can make you sound like you think Spain is one giant paella stand.

First, paella is a Valencian dish. You will see a world of rice dishes across Spain, but not every region calls them paella.

Second, many places serve it only at lunch and by order for two or more.

Good rice needs time, and the best versions are not instant.

When I lived near Mercado de San Miguel, I watched tourists demand paella at 10 p.m. in a Galician seafood bar.

The chef smiled, shook his head, and slid them a menu full of gorgeous percebes and hake cheeks they ignored.

Ask what the house does best; try “¿Cuál es la especialidad de la casa?”

If you want rice, say “¿Tenéis arroces hoy?” then let the staff guide you.

You might land a meloso with monkfish that changes your life.

2) "Sangria, please."

Sangria is fine, but it is also not the default way locals drink.

Barkeeps in Madrid, Seville, and Málaga have told me the same thing: asking for sangria by reflex signals “tourist mode” and often invites a sugary, premixed pitcher that masks mediocre wine.

If you want the refreshing, easy-drinking vibe people look for in sangria, order a tinto de verano.

It is red wine with bubbly lemon soda over ice.

Lighter, cleaner, and what you see at actual neighborhood bars when the sun is hammering the plaza.

If you do want sangria, ask where they make it well: “¿Aquí hacéis buena sangría?”

You will either get a solid yes or a steer toward something better.

3) "Everyone in Spain speaks “Spanish,” right?"

This one seems harmless until you say it in Barcelona, San Sebastián, or A Coruña.

Spain has several co-official languages, but Castilian Spanish is widely spoken and so are Catalan, Basque, and Galician.

Treating “Spanish” as the only language can feel dismissive of people’s identity, history, and pride.

I once asked a baker in Girona if she “also spoke Spanish.”

She smiled politely, then switched into immaculate Castilian and said, “I speak Catalan at home.”

My question landed like I assumed Catalan was optional.

Lesson learned: Start with “¿Hablas castellano?” if you need to switch from English, or say “¿Podemos hablar en castellano?”

In Catalonia, a simple “Bon dia” goes a long way; n the Basque Country, try “Egun on.”

You are not expected to be fluent, but a greeting shows respect.

4) "Must be siesta, everything is closed!"

I have heard this tossed out with a laugh at 3 p.m. in August while sweating through a shirt in Córdoba.

Here is the thing: Many small businesses close in the afternoon because the heat is brutal and dinner is late.

Some shops shut in August so families can leave the city due to climate, tradition, or a rhythm that prioritizes family and rest.

When we shrug and say “siesta” like it is a punchline, it can sound like an eye roll at the culture.

Imagine someone landing in your city, seeing a Thanksgiving sign on a restaurant, and quipping “Guess no one works here.”

Adjust, eat your main meal at lunch, and plan a slow block from 2 to 5.

If you do find something closed, say “No pasa nada” and enjoy a coffee, a stroll, or a museum that stays open.

The day is long in Spain, so you will still get plenty done.

5) "Tapas are free, right?"

Some regions do give complimentary tapas with drinks.

Granada and parts of León famously do, but expecting free tapas everywhere is a fast way to annoy your server and set yourself up for disappointment.

In most of Spain, you pay for pintxos, raciones, and montaditos like you would pay for small plates anywhere else.

When tourists insist “But tapas are supposed to be free,” they are negotiating with a stereotype, not a menu.

From my F&B years, I can tell you how this hits staff.

Margins are tight. A bar that stands by quality olives, excellent bread, and careful sourcing cannot comp the world.

They take pride in what they serve, so let them charge for it.

6) "Can we do dinner at 7?"

You can, but not at most restaurants.

The early dinner question gets old for hosts and chefs because the dining room is set on a later cadence.

Kitchens prep through the afternoon, staff eat family meal, and first tables roll in around 9.

Asking for 7 p.m. sometimes forces a half-open service that helps no one.

Food is culture in Spain, so dinner is social.

If you show up at 7 expecting a vibe, you will get bright lights and a server mopping the terrace.

Then people complain that the restaurant was “dead.”

It is not dead—you are early.

What I suggest you do instead is to embrace the 'merienda'.

Have a small pastry or fruit around 6.

If you need protein, split a tortilla de patatas or a plate of boquerones at a bar.

Book your dinner for 9—or later on weekends—and you will catch that hum you came for.

7) "Well, just speak English then."

Lastly, this one can come out when you are tired, hungry, and struggling to order.

I have been there, but “just speak English” lands like a command.

It assumes your language should be the default and puts pressure on someone who might be doing you a favor by switching.

Hospitality pros in Spain are often bilingual.

Many are gracious but, still, the fastest way to tank the mood is to act entitled to English.

If someone chooses it, great; if not, your job is to make yourself easy to help.

Start in simple Spanish: “Hola, ¿puedo pedir?” or “Para mí, una ración de pulpo y una ensalada.”

If you get stuck, ask “¿Hablas inglés?” with a smile; if the answer is no, point at the menu, use numbers, and keep it light.

A little effort changes everything.

The bottom line

You do not need perfect Spanish or encyclopedic food knowledge to thrive in Spain, because you just need to retire a few knee-jerk phrases and replace them with curiosity, respect, and a couple of useful sentences.

Skip the default “Do you have paella?” and ask for the house specialty, then trade “Sangria, please” for a summer tinto de verano.

Recognize that languages are plural in Spain and greet accordingly, then treat siesta and split schedules as features, not bugs.

Pay for tapas happily where that is the model, and chase the free ones where it is tradition.

Slide your dinner later and ride the energy of the room.

Ask for English kindly, and only after you try.

These are tiny choices; they add up to better meals, smoother days, and more genuine moments with people who call Spain home.

That is the kind of self-development I can get behind, and the kind you can taste.