Now we’re cooking on gas!

By Culebronchris

Even in the big cities the majority of Spaniards don’t have access to piped gas. It’s beginning to change but it would still be true to say that the majority use gas bottles.

There are two main types, the silver ones and the orange ones. The orange ones have the huge advantage that they are usually delivered by someone who takes all the muscle injuries on your behalf as they lug them into your living room or wherever. The silver ones are lighter, easier to contract for and more available at petrol stations and other pickup points. I usually get our silver bottles from the local bodega for instance.

We passed a lorry delivering gas bottles in Valencia a couple of days ago and I was amused by the housewives in the flats yelling their orders from the windows to the men with the lorry. We were in company with a Spaniard and she told us that in the olden days, long before telephone ordering, the gas lorries would stop outside the blocks of flats and the “butaneros” would rattle the bottles in the rack to advertise their presence. The sound is very distinctive.

Did you notice that bit about contracting? When we first moved here we inherited a gas heater in the flat we rented. When the gas ran out I had to go to a compound on the edge of the town, far enough away for an explosion not to do too much damage I suppose, and exchange my empty gas bottle for a full one. After a couple of visits, emboldened by my success, I asked if I could have two bottles instead of one. I was made to feel like Oliver Twist asking for more!

The chap at the depot sent me to to an office in town. I’d been in Spain about four weeks by this time and I was incensed, appalled and totally confused when they seemed to need everything short of a DNA sample to sell me a gas bottle. Even worse I would have to pay for an engineer to check that my gas heater before I could sign a contract for a second bottle.

I gave up and did what most Britons do. I found someone who had a bottle spare, paid them 5€ for it and then went to the garage and got a fresh one. Nowadays of course, with my fluent Spanish (oh yeah!) and having become used to giving my date of birth and showing my passport when I buy an iced lolly I didn’t have any problem arranging for an engineer to come and check all the gas appliances. That done I got an appropriate contract with a local supplier. I must say that, despite the faff, I rather approve of a system that insists that you have the appliances checked for safety on a regular basis. People don’t bother of course, particularly poor people and foreigners with language problems, but there are far too many stories on the news about blocks of flats ripped apart by gas explosions for us to take the chance.

Give me another couple of years and I may get around to ordering the replacements by phone. Sheer luxury!