by Will Cade

I’ve never been so gratefulfor a glass of tap water until I came to Madrid. You can walk into any restaurant, ask for a glass (for free, even) and actually drink it.

This fall, I studied at the University of Murcia in the south - my first ever experience in Spain. If you asked for a water in a restaurant there, they would bring you a bottle. You could ask for free tap water, but you might as well ask for a sifter to clean out the sand and whatever other goodies were floating around. The director of my program told me the water was drinkable; it just tasted bad. But my Spanish friend who actually worked at the water treatment plant told me otherwise. I forget what exactly the harmful particles were (lead, maybe?) but it was more than enough to send me to the store a few times a week for a 6-litre bottle, just to drink in my piso.

For when I had class, I tried buying individually bottled water, but I would finish one off by noon, thanks to southern Spain’s desert climate (Tennessee, where I’m from, is almost as humid as the Amazon). I would then either have to drop an enormously expensive 60 centimos into a vending machine, or - and this still gives me the willies - drink it del grifo. I needed to buy a bigger water bottle, I decided, but one that I could refill myself.

Being that Spain has one of the most arid regions in Europe, you’d think that Murcia would have a high demand for sports bottles, or at least reusable water bottles. But when I asked around at different stores, all the salespeople said “no” and looked at me like I was asking for that new pair of Nike’s that let’s you fly.

I had no other choice: I had to go to El Corte Inglés - that lovely Spanish version of a Super Wal-Mart injected with a pure dose of high-value consumerism. Ah, I was right at home, but I hated myself for being so American. I immediately found a climber’s bottle with an opening and closing lip, an unbreakable body, and a touch screen GPS, all for only 15 euros. Perfect!

This bottle served me well in Murcia and when I was traveling around before coming to Madrid. Whether I was in class or in Italy, I could pull out my handy-dandy bottle and get a quick sip. Ironically, though, whenever I pull it out in public in Madrid, the Spaniards always seem to look at me strange. Why doesn’t he just take a glass of water at a café? I imagine them thinking.