I lived in Pamplona, Spain for a year, back before my Spanish was particularly good. It was a pretty amazing place, with all its narrow cobbled alleys and small shops.

They had a particular style of bread in a few of the shops, kind of a rustic baguette with pointy ends, that I never could find the name of. I'd always have to point and say "that one", which always felt awkward. Worse, my Spanish wasn't yet good enough to even ask what it was called in a way they'd understand.

So imagine my good fortune one morning when I pointed at it in my favorite bread shop and the man picked it up and said "Pan de Ayer".

Pan de Ayer! Finally, I had a name for it. "Ayer!", I said with a big grin. I love Ayer bread. It's my favorite. Please give me a bar of Pan de Ayer.

The man did seem a bit taken aback by my enthusiasm for this particular style of bread, as did the other customer in the shop. But he rang me up after ensuring that it was in fact what I wanted. I held it up, made some yummy noises, said one more "Ayer", and walked out.

I made it maybe 50 yards up the road before I remembered where I'd heard that word.

We lived there another 9 months, and I don't think I ever went back to that shop.