My first discoteca experience

This past weekend in Granada brought a lot of us to our first disctoteca. We’d been told not to get to the discotecas before 2 a.m. because it doesn’t pick up till then. That sounded crazy to a lot of us, because, after all, the bars at the University of Illinois close at 2 a.m. The discotecas here, however, are open till 6 or 8 a.m.

We passed the first portion of the night at an Irish bar named Paddy’s, which was full of American students when we walked in. The owner offered up a “student special,” which comprised two mixed drinks for 5€. Obviously, that went over well.

When it neared 2 a.m., we headed to a kebab place across the street because hunger had set in. There, I had one of the best burgers of my life. And I actually don’t think I’m just saying that because it was 2 a.m. and I hadn’t had American food in a week.

But then, it was time to head to our discoteca of choice: Mae West.

I was worried about what I was wearing because I had heard stories of bouncers looking people up and down and deciding whether to let them in the discoteca based on their clothes. I hadn’t been able to pack many going-out clothes — I didn’t even bring any type of heels. So, I chose to wear a black dress, black tights, a jean jacket and cargo boots.

When we arrived at Mae West, my fears quickly subsided. The woman at the entrance simply let all of us in after we paid 10€ each.

The price to get in to the discoteca included one drink, so most of us ordered a rum and Coke, for lack of knowing what else to order. The area of the bar at the entrance was how I picture a typical pub — wooden floor, booths and cool pictures hanging on the walls. So, for all you Illinois people, a Brother’s or a Murphy’s. It wasn’t until we walked through a side door that we came across the real discoteca — the one that I had pictured in my mind.

My friend Becca later described it as walking into a “sea of men.” And I couldn’t have described it better. This portion of the disctoeca was huge, with different levels, a bar in the middle and a stage on one side where the D.J. sat. And there were guys everywhere. When we entered, many of their heads turned toward the newbs who were giggling with excitement. We were a group of about 10 girls, most of whom were obviously not native to Spain. In other words, we screamed American, and it didn’t help that we knew all the words to most of the songs that were playing (think Beyoncé, Ke$ha, Miley Cyrus and Macklemore). As we waded through the sea to find an open area to dance, it was obvious that we were attracting attention. When we eventually found a spot, we immediately started dancing, the euphoria of being at our first discoteca setting in. But other people really weren’t dancing.

Spanish women walked around in stilettos and super short shorts, with piles of makeup on their faces. Spanish men scoured the crowd with clean-shaven faces and drinks in hand. Meanwhile, we were mostly doing our own thing, partly because we were nervous to speak in Spanish to the guys surrounding and staring at us, and partly because we were simply having fun dancing and singing with each other.

But eventually some of us gained the courage to strike up a conversation with nearby Spaniards, or they ended up tapping us on the shoulder and starting a conversation themselves. They all wanted to know where we were from, and once hearing our response, sometimes replied in English. Many times, to this I replied, “¡Hablo español!” (I speak Spanish).

This sort of thing has happened a lot in Spain so far. With red hair and blue eyes, I know I don’t looking anything close to Spanish, but I do know how to speak Spanish decently well. And maybe people are trying to be helpful when they switch to English with me (at restaurants, bars, on the street, et cetera), but sometimes I wish I were given more of a chance to struggle with Spanish words, rather than be given an easy way out.

But anyway, back to the discoteca. Around 4 a.m. (that is very much a guesstimate), a woman in heels and tight jeans and shirt started singing on the stage. At some point she was joined by a scruffy-looking man not wearing pants. I have no idea where he came from or where his pants went, but he climbed into this cage that looked like it was made for an exotic bird. The cage was hanging from the ceiling, and he was raised up in it and he kind of just swung around in his boxers. Not sure what that was about.

At 5:30 a.m., a couple of friends decided it was time to leave. Somehow, I wasn’t at all tired, but I conceded and we slowly made our exit.

I fell into bed around 6 a.m., and then for some reason woke up at 11:30 a.m. and decided to go for a run. I’ve never been a big sleeper, but I think it’s great that here, unlike a lot of places in the United States, it’s possible to have a great night out and still function the next day. Here, people drink more to be social, where in the United States, especially on college campuses, it’s all binge drinking on the weekends. Perhaps the culture here is a result that people are allowed to drink at 18, so alcohol is not as much of a forbidden fruit.

Since it’s a little pricey to get in to the discotecas, we may not go all that often, but I do know that I want to go back!