Spanish toilets and John Travolta

(Got your attention with that little title, didn't I?)

Like a good little student, I read the University of Virginia's handbook before I came to Valencia, and I pored over the information in the "Culture Shock" packet I received from them as well. So I knew about some of the differences I would encounter, like meal times, nightlife, etc. And yes, those things are different, but the most surprising differences have been the little things -- things that no one thinks to mention when they are telling you about life in Spain. Take the sidewalks, for example. The other day while walking in the Centro, I noticed that the sidewalk seemed particularly smooth and even. And then I realized that I was walking on marble. Marble! You would never see that in the United States. Because as you all know, ugly grey cement is practically an American tradition. And not only is the sidewalk material in Spain generally better all round, but the care is incredible. The other day I saw someone mopping the sidewalk outside a café. I was so shocked, I almost ran into a lamp post. Seriously.

            There are other little things I’ve noticed, too. Milk comes in sealed cartons that don’t have to be refrigerated (until they’re opened), washing machines are tiny, and toilets use buttons on the top to flush them. It also amuses me that dance clubs are called discos, as I can’t help but picture a young, white suit-clad John Travolta boogying across a colorful, bottom-lit dance floor every time I hear the word. In fact, discos aren’t too much different than clubs in the U.S. Overpriced drinks and hormonal twenty-somethings are apparently a standard of dance clubs worldwide.

However, the music is a little different than what I expected. As with most bigger cities, it seems that one can find clubs with many different types of music here; pop, rock, and hip-hop are the genres I’ve come across so far. And house. Lots and lots of house. But one thing I never, ever expected to hear was a sudden transition to Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life” in the middle of some bass-filled house music. Now, I can deal with grandiose sidewalks, different types of food, and even the presence of bidets in the bathrooms. But Jon Bon Jovi in a Spanish disco? That’s pushing it. Pass me another one of those $10 beers, please.