A nation with a penchant for boozing? We’re not so different, you and I…

Food, weather, customs, meal times? If you’re a Brit and you’ve ever lived in Spain, or if you’re a Spaniard and you’ve ever called the UK home, then you’ll know that there are more than a few things that take some getting used to. One of the main hardships is getting your head (and stomach) around the schedule. It’s been said time and time again by every expat blogger out there, but this may be intrinsic in order to understand the subject matter of this post. Lunch in Britain can begin as early as 12 o’clock whereas, in Spain, schools and offices often don’t eat until 2 o’clock thanks to the ever popular almuerzo snack at mid-morning – something that forms part of the «5 meals a day» unwritten Spanish law. Because of this, dinner is served as late as 9, 10, or even later at weekends or in the height of summer. Brits in Spain: say goodbye to your 6pm chicken tikka masala (that’s the nation’s favourite dish, don’t you know?)

But there are some things that prove to be far more familiar. Here’s the bottom line: the Brits and the Spanish love a good drink. Despite the UK often being portrayed as the booziest of all the European countries, after four years of living in Spain, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that the Spanish drink just as much as Brits, if not more. Any social occasion is an excuse to crack open the vino, beer or any other alcoholic beverage you have in the fridge. «I’ve passed my medic exam» «Let’s have a beer!» «I’ve popped round to hang your kitchen blind» «Fancy some cava?»

The climate might be part to blame too. Why stay at home when there are thousands of bar and restaurant terraces offering a place to enjoy thirst quenching beverages in the Mediterranean sunshine? Let’s face it, what is one of the main pastimes of twenty and thirty somethings when they meet with friends? Spanish youths drink like goldfish. If goldfish swam in jarras of San Miguel and 70cl bottles of Negrita rum.

The only difference is that we Brits tend to go harder, earlier – and it hasn’t got anything to do with the different time zone. It has, however, got everything to do with the prompt schedule of the UK and the early opening times of the clubs. Perhaps this just adds fuel to the fire concerning our reputation of being bumbling, punctual idiots…

So without further ado here is my graph comparing a night on the lash in my home town of Rotherham, South Yorkshire, to a night out in my current home of Valencia, Spain.

So there you have it, a 100% accurate (ahem) representation of a night out in Rotherham versus salir de fiesta in Valencia. As I mentioned before, the main difference is obviously the opening hours of the clubs. UK clubs offer «no option» than to head to bars early on in the evening or to preload at home before opening at 10pm and closing at around 2am. Clubs in Spain don’t even get going until around 2, leaving lots of time to get up close and personal with one of the nation’s most reverred youth phenomenons: the botellón. The late (early?) start makes sense because discotecas don’t tend to kick out until 6, 7, 8…or even later. So, guiris: you’re in for a looong night. Try not to get frustrated at your Spanish friends who insist on huddling around their botellón in the university car park until the wee hours. Why go to the club if you’ve still got half a bottle of Negrita and a bag full of ice, eh?

What we haven’t factored into the table above is the possibility of you wanting to go home on the last bus or autobus nocturno. This alone deserves a whole other paragraph. The last buses of the night leave creepy Rotherham Interchange shortly after midnight. Given the fact that the British night out starts considerably earlier than its Spanish counterpart, we can assume that most people catching buses at this hour won’t be of sound mind. And that’s not even taking into account the village idiots and bus station characters that are sure to be lurking around, one of which we affectionately nicknamed The Gurner. Expect lairy individuals, a bit of gratuitous sick and the odd BNP or UKIP supporter. Flashbacks to the nit bus back home to Sant Cugat on my Erasmus term in Barcelona throw up similar scenes of mojito-induced whiteys and starey travellers all too interested in hearing just what you have to say because they studied English one time when they were 9.

Here are some other interesting facts about the UK-Spain divide in the form of visually pleasing infographics:

* We’re writing from Valencia, the epicentre of the Ruta del Bakalao. Flying Free is here purely for the fist pumping rawcousness -albeit ironic (hopefully)- it summons among partygoers when used as the closing song of a verbena in Fallas. We had lots of contenders for the shit end-of-night-song in the UK, including Mr. Brightside, Place Your Hands and Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer. In the end we stuck with Wonderwall – a song that turns fully grown adults into hugging sloth-people while passionately signalling towards the sky and chanting along like drunken neanderthals.

** Spaniards, let me introduce you to Cheesy Chips: the UK’s most consumed food between 2am and 3am on a Friday night. The standard kebab or the Meatball Marinara (see above) follow close behind. Brits, say hola to the churro (a sort of straight donut) and tostadas con tomate (toast topped with a mixture of garlic, salt, olive oil and chopped tomatoes). All great choices.

All great choices…

Other key terminology:

 

Guiris in Spain and bloody foreigners in the UK: let us know your drunken anecdotes!

Further reading:

The Benidorm Syndrome
Fuck being your playground