An Ego as Big as the Ritz

Last night we pulled into Marbella and after a difficult hour of traffic and braving the ever-changing interstate names, we found our hotel. At the top of a hill, overlooking a brand new golf course. It is a islander pink with giant white columns and white tile roof. There is a giant aquamarine pool hidden beneath a jungle of green and pink plants.
We're at the Marbella Ritz. I feel like a Fitzgerald character, except I am seriously lacking the intrigue, the angst and the exceptional beauty of his characters. Oh wait, and the money to actually go along with the stay at the Ritz. Its more like holden wandering into a Gatsby party. I feel incredibly self conscience around some of the guests. And what is weirdest, no one speaks spanish in this place. The concierge is english!
Now, im not complaining, mind you. Im sleeping in a 70 euro bed, i have a bathtub the size of my bathroom at home and a much better view than the one I had of the dirty ally way in the last city I was in. But all the same, I kind of miss spain. Im not sure where it is any more! I could really do with just a panaderia around the corner. It could even be painted islander pink and have clean white tiles. So long as they sold hot, fresh, pan pan.
Im really just being stuck up. Too good for the wealthy. Too good for americans that only speak english. Too good for my parents even. Maybe the answer is to have a bit of empathy for this group of humanity that I simply do not understand. Somebody call up room service and the spa. I think I may live this up in the name of empathy.