Spanish homes have three common traits: (a) terra cotta roofing tiles; (b) plastered stucco walls; and (c) a water-filled Evian bottle strategically-placed before the front door. This latter point has perplexed me for years.

Spanish homes have three common traits: (a) terra cotta roofing tiles; (b) plastered stucco walls; and (c) a water-filled Evian® bottle strategically-placed before the front door.
 
This latter point has perplexed me for years.
 
I’ve observed this bizarre sociological phenomenon in dozens—perhaps hundreds—of Spanish homes. I’ve seen it in Barcelona. I’ve seen it in Alicante. And as the photo above attests, I’ve seen it here in Sanchoville.
 
Some folk take this practice a step further, and place additional bottles in front of each basement window. 
 
But, why?

Why?!

I analyzed this odd practice from every conceivable angle…yet still couldn’t rationalize it. 

• Are these bottles a humanitarian offering to thirsty Bedouins that pass in the night? I doubt it. One rarely sees camels roaming the streets of Spain except during Three Wise Men’s Day parades—and even then, I’m fairly certain that the men on those camels have had plenty to drink already.
  
• Do they function as an early warning system for seismic activity? Perhaps slight ripples in the bottles’ water announce that tectonic plates are shifting. Nah! Spaniards aren’t concerned about the forces of nature, unless a football game is at stake.
  
• Could it be voodoo? Perhaps these bottles threaten door-to-door salesmen with a frightening curse. If your knuckles so much as touch that door, you WILL retain water.

None of these hypotheses satisfied, so I asked my next door neighbor. It seemed like a good idea. After all, her pedigree clearly states that she is Spanish. It also states that she hasn’t been declawed—which is not relevant to the water bottle question, but is extremely relevant if you’re a door-to-door salesman. Her answer was insightful: “I have no idea.”
 
I then posed the question to my global network of Internet expat friends, hoping that some of them had encountered similar strangeness in their own adopted countries. Their responses were earnest and overwhelming! And, I should hasten to add, as unhelpful as my next-door neighbor’s.
 
Finally, I resigned myself to the inevitable—that this water bottle mystery is one that shall remain unsolved for time immemorial. Indeed, if I should ever learn the secrets behind this shadowy practice, then I’d have to do so the old fashioned way—wait for Dan Brown to write a book about it.
 
And so…I did my best to put the matter behind me and live a normal life. Until last week, that is.
 
Because in last week’s Expatica essay, I briefly mentioned this water bottle silliness as being an aspect of Spanish culture that—six years on—continues to boggle my mind. And can you guess what happened? I received a Spanish-language email from an Expatica reader stating (more or less) the following:
 
“The Spanish have always placed these water bottles so that dogs WILL NOT URINATE NEAR THE DOOR. The water bottle is the best repellent. All the world knows this.”
 
Could this be it? Could this be the explanation that has eluded me for so many years?! I carefully analyzed this reader’s theory and found a few potential holes. For example:

• Is there really such a widespread dog/door/urination problem in this country? Every house that I’ve lived in had a front door, yet I never once stepped in a puddle of pee-pee when coming or going. 
  
• And…why should a water bottle dissuade a dog from urinating? Does he see his enlarged reflection in the water and runaway scared? It’s possible.  I’ve read press reports that Michael Jackson had all mirrors removed from his home for the same reason.
  
• And most significantly…doesn’t the sight of water encourage — rather than discourage — the urination reflex? This is certainly true in the human race—or at least, with the majority of my past girlfriends. But perhaps this sort of high-level cognitive association doesn’t apply to dogs. They are, after all, lesser beasts. That’s why it’s so rare to find Golden Retrievers on the Boards of major corporations.

In the end, however, I concluded that yes…this must the answer. My long, long quest for the truth had been realized. Say it loud, say it proud: Spaniards place water bottles in front of their doors to prevent dogs from urinating on the doorstep!!!
 
With this newly-acquired knowledge, I felt a calmness—indeed, an all-consuming bliss—that had been absent from my life for so many years. I wanted to celebrate. I had to celebrate! So with a very large spring in my step, I made a beeline to my local supermarket to buy the most expensive bottle of cava on its shelves. 
 

And as I merrily bounced down the street, I saw something that made me freeze in my tracks.  You can see for yourselves in the accompanying photo.
 
No, your eyes do not deceive. In the backyard of one of the homes in my neighborhood, there were two full water bottles hanging from a clothesline.
 
This was too much for me to handle. While I may accept the argument that Spanish dogs have a propensity for urinating on doorsteps, I cannot—and WILL NOT—be persuaded that they also whiz on clean linens hanging six feet off the ground.

In the end, I did buy that bottle of cava. Not to celebrate; but to forget.

Sal DeTraglia

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[Copyright Expatica]

[May 2006]

Subject: Living in Spain