Wait! Now your eyes will pop out from the power of red. Not the wine, but the red color, since the bar is flooded with it up to the roof. This bar is rather unsophisticated, located somewhere near the beach promenade, with the doors always open and the red light that no longer can be kept inside breaking out of it.
Category: Barcelona bars
This was the case when we went to a bar that I found in the local English-language booklet, and went straight to the house with thorns atop it – a famous Barcelona attraction – because the bar location is exactly in this house. So to say, vermouth brought us to art. Up until then we’ve never visited local vermuterias, and the title, which I could hardly read in syllables, – Matalaranya – somehow I immediately liked the way this word sounds.
Despite all of its popularity and Europeanness, Barcelona failed to pan out as a bar city. But it’s far from harming this city at all, especially in the case when you’ve been walking across the city for many hours, one hardly wants anything other than cava, beer or sangria, and these are poured as if from waterfalls at every corner. Actually, I’m not talking about tapas bars, snack bars, as we know them, which in themselves are the whole attraction of the Spanish drinking culture. But to find a cocktail bar is not so easy. However, this year as many as two bars broke into the list of the best cocktail bars in the world according to the recognized critics. One of these bars – Dry Martini – will be discussed next.
Joaquin Costa Street, twilight, the dim light of lanterns falls on the dirty century old stones with which the road is paved on. Teens or first year students with ear tunnels were dashing back and forth with life-worn skateboards in their hands. There’s trash piling at the street corners, all roll-up doors and windows are painted with wretched self-proficient graffiti. Joaquim Costa Street is one of the most crowded streets of the city, while bypassing a couple of hot spots that are packed during the weekend, I stop by wide open windows with windowsills, where you can sit with the one foot inside and the other on the street. Through the windows you can see some paintings with a hint of Joan Miró, wrinkled sunken sofas and an older crowd. This bar is 33 | 45.
Although I am an experienced barfly, it is not always easy to find a good place right away. For instance, yesterday we couldn’t find our destination bar, so we were roaming Barcelona a good couple of kilometers until I gave up and we didn’t get to TOTO. Not that I doubted that it would be good there, I probably knew it from the beginning, but, honestly, after La Xampanyeria the soul demanded simple happiness of having snacks rather than gastronomic delights. Besides, what did I say? The bar is off the charts.
Every guidebook covering Barcelona mentions champagneries with the emphasis that it is simply unthinkable not to visit to at least one of them. If you haven’t been to a champagnery, you haven’t been to Barcelona. It turned out that everything wasn’t so transparent as it seemed, but rather dramatic. I could locate only two champagneries: the very El Xampanyeria in the Old Town and Can Paixano closer to La Barceloneta. The first one left me completely indifferent at the sight of the tourist crowd loaded with magnets, while the second one caught me by the buzz of locals; so twice we attempted to get in.