We knew it was because we were Americans. We only need look at the way the local Sevillanos were treated to know this. Waiters would rush by us, when we had been seated for over ten minutes (you seat yourself at this cafe) to greet Spaniards that were just beginning to linger in the doorway, not even sure yet whether they were going to come in!
If we tried to catch the waiters' attention, they would give us a sort of sideways glance, letting us know that they knew that we wanted to be served, but that this really wasn't important to them.
It became sort of a challenge. Every morning I would go to Cafe de los Indios with a friend of mine, and every morning we would wait longer than anyone else to get our coffee and baguettes.
We didn’t want to go anywhere else, though. This cafe was right in el centro, or the center of town, and directly across from the cathedral. It was also close to where we attended class. It was a little more hip, and definitely more modern, than other cafes in Spain. It was where we wanted to eat our breakfast in the morning!
After months of bad treatment, but very good coffee, we leaned to find the traits of the waiters slightly endearing. After all, it was sort of funny the way they purposely avoided us, the Americans. We were not quite comfortable enough, however, to point out when one of the waiters brought us a cortado instead of a cafe con leche. These sorts of things we let slide. Pointing them out would increase our wait time by hours.
Eventually, after a couple of months, we made a friend. Of course, the waiter we befriended didn't even communicated with the other waiters. He was from Morocco, he was a little strange, and he kind of smelled. But at least he noticed us. So the foreign waiter, and us, the foreign diners, became friendly. So what if he asked for our numbers every time we were there? Finally we were served with efficiency! From then on, as soon as we walked in, he would usher us to our seats, and unless we said otherwise, he would bring us our baguettes and coffee, without even asking. We were regulars -- sort of. The Spaniards still brought us our drinks with disdain.
Persistence, however, paid off. We went there at least four times a week, for about ten months. And during the last couple months of our stay in Sevilla, we won their affection! It must have been the fact that we kept trying. We didn't slink away to other cafes down the street like other Americans. Because after 7 months, they finally treated us like regular Sevillanos. They even smiled! (Except for one of them, she never warmed up to us.)
It was actually one of my biggest accomplishments of the year.