Nugs Return to Barcelona
Posted: Wed 13th Jun 2018 08:28 am
Preface
Barcelona, what is there to say...far too much, and not enough at the same time. A city I truly adore, perhaps the only one more so than my beloved Mokum home.
Having lived here in a brief stint as a hostel worker, for 6 months - I have some familiarity with the city, but I hadn't been back for nearing on three years. So after seeing the city cluttering up my instagram feed and others' travelogues on this site - I decided enough is enough. I pulled the trigger on a relatively short notice flight (10 days or so out), and arranged accommodation (for myself and the missus) for five days and nights in Catalunya. The first three nights in the Raval district of Barcelona, at a very spartan budget hotel. The next two nights in a similar place in Tossa de Mar on the Costa Brava.
Needless to say I spent the following ten days, giddy as ever - I was finally going back. And what's more the burgeoning association scene has evolved and given rise to some quite reputable places since I was last there (e.g. Backyard, La Kalada, The Plug, etc.). When I lived there, I was a member of a few clubs, which have all been since defunct or proven to be among the sketchier tourist places, though in my day the weed was definitely cheaper and still of passable quality (in those days I was on a tighter budget too) varying from 5-9 per gram for some decent sensi; with the occasion absurd stuff going to 10 or 11 per g (even that was a lot back then ca. 2014).
I had visited a few times between living there and this upcoming visit, but relegated myself to private contacts as again I was on a budget, but hey decent sensi at 4 EUR per g is nothing to sneeze at, but I was kin to wade back into the associations scene in town, and see what all the fuss was about!
I digress, Barcelona was calling my name - and that call had finally been answered, mama I was coming home!
Day-I
We opted for an evening flight in the end, but I had already planned that Thursday as a day off, so I took advantage of some respite from a stressful week at work, and allowed myself to pack and prepare at a leisurely pace; whilst the missus worked from home and did her own preparations.
After giving my Pax 3 & Vapcap a nice cannabionoid-cleansing alcohol bath, among other preparations, I took my last fat-dab of S-Flux 'no-name' sauce and bid farewell to the canal-belt as the missus and I made the quick seven minute jaunt on foot over to Centraal.
It was Thursday, and a fine summery day, bright beaming sunshine and 29 degrees cutting through the air (a shame to leave it behind as the forecasts were telling me it was actually warmer here then in our south-bound destination) - I was convinced that even at 2 hours before our departure time, long lines could prove troublesome, however the lines of security were rather short - score! I quickly relieved my pockets of all items and even threw the Pax on the tray in plain sight as it looks rather innocuous, and very much like a power-bank. The speed of security on the other side of the metal detectors however was another story, some paranoid android of an employee was clearly calling the 'for further review/screening' shots as the 'left lane' (the 'naughty list' of x-ray findings) was utterly log-jammed with bins for further review.
I saw both of my bins hovering right before the direction-shifting mechanism and got excited as mine appeared to be headed to the right-lane and the all the sudden I saw the wheels go from diagonal to straight and send both of my bins through to face the reckoning of further scrutiny, much to the chagrin of my puckering butthole. Worse, I had time to sulk on my anxiety - as my bag was not even close to being the only pulled aside. After what seemed like forever a security employee approached me and asked for permission to check my bag, to which I consented. He opened the front compartment and after some poking and prodding produced the green plastic tube bearing the vapcap, to which he opened, smelled, slid out to examine and said 'what's this', I stuttered out "umm..like an e-cig or vape kinda thing you know?!" to which he opened the compartment back up, slid the vape in and said with the most subtle sly smile "oh yes I can smell it!" and sent me on my way, the other bin which had my pocket possessions and various electronics (Pax) included was waived through without any additional examination (despite having been sent to the inspection lane), both I and my puckered sphincter let out a collective sigh of relief.
I hastily grabbed my things before they changed their minds and we made our way to the gate, where it was shown on the monitor that our flight would be at least 15 minutes delayed on the departure time. My girlfriend upon telling me this, makes sure to remark "well this is a Spanish vacation, so it's only natural we start it off being late!" A short while, and an overpriced "cold-pressed" juice later ( seriously shit tasted like it was made from concentrate, #BoycottAirportFood) we've boarded and then in the air. A quick 1 and 45 in the air later and...
TOUCH DOWN BCN - EL PRAT!!!
No checked bags, the missus and I hop aboard the Aerobus which brings us right to the heart of town at Placa Catalunya (think Barcelona's Dam Square) in a quick 25 minutes. I notice that the sun is out and the air is a comfortable 70ish degrees (or 20 for all you commie bastards), in spite of forecasts that had been calling for rain that evening (and it actually had been raining earlier that afternoon), it looks like we took Mokum spell of gorgeous weather with us in our wake. We get off at Catalunya and a immediately make our way down eastward down La Rambla and then slightly southward into the Raval district where our digs are located.
An aside, the Raval - located on the Southern side of Rambla, it's in the Ciutat Vella (old-town) of Barcelona, although that doesn't correspond or fully overlap with what's considered the "center" of town. It's got a lot of rustic charm, and youthful vibrancy - cheap markets, bars, restaurants and other service-oriented businesses (e.g. barber shops), and also happens to home to a vast swath of the city's immigrant community, more specifically non-western immigrants, most notably a large Pakistani community (the city's largest immigrant group). Suffice to say it has a very "ethnic" feel, which I embrace but other racist xenophobes might not. It is seen as seedy by some and consequently despite a very idyllic location and gorgeous historic architecture it has largely withstood the forces of gentrification that have been taking over similar such places (particularly in Amsterdam for example), and that's something which I admire and appreciate about this quarter of the old-town.
I digress, just under 10 minutes walk and we've arrived at our hotel - literally a stoned throw (150m) away is another cannabis-club I've heard good things about: Terps Army, but we'll get back to that later. We check-in, drop our bags and make note of the small (I mean standing room for two at most) balcony which will serve our needs later. Missus has agreed we can make 'stocking up' the first order of business. Google maps in hand and the shoe-lace express in motion we make for the Backyard. The other half, partakes in the herb much less frequently then she once did, so she's only keen to join one club. I figured the best bet was to hit Backyard first, because I've heard so many good things about the price and quality of their flower selection over the years, and I've already managed to score an invite - big thanks to the trusted fellow ACDer who sorted that for me. I decide it's best to join there first as that way I won't be disappointed if I blew most of my funds at another place first and be bummed about what I then couldn't afford to get at Backyard.
As a result, that would be the club my partner would end up joining. It was about a 20 minute walk from the Raval to Backyard, when we arrived to where google-maps had led us, the club being in typical Barcelona association fashion, was completely unmarked, I used the context clues of the heavily tinted sliding doors and lone doorbell to acertain that I hit the mark. I rang and after a few long seconds the doors slid open. A French girl at the reception, inquired about how we had found the places, to which I showed her a few screenshot messages from IG, confirming the possibility of our membership request. She seemed to find it a bit dubious that it was my anonymous 'cannabis-related' account, but I showed her my name within the message and that seemed to appease here enough, and so she promptly got to work entering my profile into the system.
I was told there were no cash transactions permitted past the reception area, and consequently would have to load credit onto the blue drop-shaped reader key that would also serve as my membership pass. Once we were both signed up (20 EUR fee for one year membership btw) the receptionist opened another sliding door to let us in, you first pass a narrow 'bar' area where the serve non-herbal refreshments, typical selection as you would see in a coffeeshop - plus Estrella Galicia bottles (beer) which is a welcome addition yours truly. We go further back and there's a second small room which is the bud counter. We are helped by a friendly Moroccan-French budtender who smiles politely and patiently tends to all my inquiries - taking the time to dig out all the various extracts for me to look at and smell, etc.
Regarding flower, they have their top-shelf varieties in 'pop-tops' with very cool and custom labels for each strain. I ask about these strains, which the budtender informs me are not available 'loose' at the moment but only by the pop-top (an eighth or 3.5g for those not in the know) of varying prices (45-55 per 1/8th I think). So between 12-15 euros per gram I believe. I settle on an eighth of Disco Biscuit (45 EUR) and an eighth of Peach Ozz (50 EUR), and then a gram of Kippax Orange Soda THC-a Sauce (80 EUR), of course this required running back to the reception to upload more credit a few times as I kept (wishfully) under-shooting my budget. The weed from the top-shelf all smelled quite lush, with some exotic 'cali-strain'-esque notes that I haven't experienced from any coffeeshop weed in Mokum if I'm honest. The Disco Biscuit in particular had some spicy, earthy and sweet doughy (alla Gelato-strain) notes. The Peach was similar but a bit more sou fizzy and generally fruity.
Wares in hand, we made our way further back, the decor was simple but cozy-ish, like a modern coffeeshop look, but somehow 'cleaner' if that makes sense. Ample electrical outlets for charging, a Sasquash Rosin-press in the way back (second smoking room with a sky-light beaming through) - to boot there was a beautiful cute little Staffordshire Bull pup named Tangie, fuck a house cat - house dogs are where it's at! Both really tasted lovely in the Pax and sported decent enough potency to boot. After the missus skinned herself a 'pinner' to toke on of Peach Ozz, I tried to have a go on it - but was quickly reminded of why I had forgone combustion altogether, I went back to enjoying the peach's lovely taste notes in the Pax and left it at that. The Peach Ozz, was mildly earthy and sweet doughy, with some sour fizzy fruity notes, and flavor stretch that just wouldn't quit in the Pax, quite impressive. The DB was more doughy and earthy on the initial few pulls, and then the after taste evolves into a sweet creamy profile that's more mellow and smooth. My initial assessment errs towards preference of the Ozz, but after more note-taking later on I grew to appreciate the Disco Biscuit more I think.
Thirst was calling so I headed to the bar to snag a beer and a dab-rig as it was time to crank things up a notch. I grab a Galicia to drink and the bartender sorts me a rig and carb-cap/dabber tool, and says I can collect a torch at the 'dispensary counter'. I blast a few globs of the Kippax sauce which is as expected from a THC-a sauce is quite a firecracker potency-wise, the heavy sweet but tangy citrusy notes really come through on the pallet, there's a some gassy after-notes, however it still has some extra dimension setting it apart from say a Tangie or even 24k Gold based extract - winner in my book! At 80 EUR per gram it seemed steep, however the cheapest I've seen these exact extracts from this same extractor were 90 per g for 2g if you bought from a certain wanker who's popular on Instragram in Mokum (some of you may know to whom I refer), and 70 quid in the UK (about 80 EUR) from another guy on I know on IG. So a fair enough price all-in-all.
Our original plan was to stay about an hour tops at the Backyard and head to a nearby favorite haunt of mine "Veggie Garden" for some plant-based fare; however af few ours of heavy seshing, a few massive globs included, had other plans. We had been glued to our seats for nearly two hours, it was rounding 11 pm and our port of call was a 15+ minute trek with an 11:30 pm close time. We set out on foot convinced we could somehow make it in time, but as we got closer we realized it simply wasn't possible with the time constraints we faced. We wandered somewhat aimlessly towards the Barri Gotica - with another old favorite of mine (Bosco - Catalan/Mediterranean fusion food) in mind, but we arrived and the host originally told us we could eat, but his colleagues yelled to him in Catalan that, it wasn't gonna happen as they were already cleaning up for the evening.
My stoner light-bulb did some flickering before a favorite Pintxos (Basque-style Tapas) that was in the neighborhood sprung to mind - Euskal Extea - so we juanted another 7 minutes northwestward before arriving. Extea is a great hidden little gem, that boasts one of the most stoner-friendly ways of eating good proper Iberian fare, on a reasonable budget, quickly and with minimal human interaction required. The idea is simple, grab a plate - pick from a number the various tapas lining the bar, at your own pace (grab yourself), and then at the end they count the toothpicks, as all items cost a flat 2.10 per tapa - either they have the best low-key security or they rely heavily on the honor system...or perhaps both?! With two beers to wash it down our pintxos, we soaked in the lively rustic ambiance, people watching the throngs of what seemed like only locals (another good sign) - as not a word of English cut the the lively Castellano being spoken across the room. Anyway, in short I highly recommend this place for a more authentic Spanish dining experience.
After the waiter came through counted at our toothpicks and we paid out - we decided we would stop somewhere for one more drink. I put forth Placa Reial area which was roughly in between our hotel and the stretch of the Gothic-quarter in which we found ourselves. We wound up in a a parallel alley to the plaza (a former favorite bar-hopping strip of mine) at skate-punk themed bar "Nevermind" the music is loud, the drinks are cheap, the vibe is edgy and the decor is graffiti and re-purposed skate ramps and quarter-pipes for seating - it reminds one quite a lot of Hill Street Blues (though not 420 friendly), we ordered two Caipirahnas and soaked in the place briefly. It was now rounding the later hours of the evening at a quarter till 2 (or early for the club-going Spaniards rather), so we paid our bill and headed back to the hotel. We went out on the balcony where the missus skinned a pinner of the Disco Biscuit and I loaded myself a Pax chamber of the same before we turned out the lights and bid our fair city or good night. ....or rather she did, my giddiness of being back, coupled with paper thin walls, and (what I imagined) as a pudgy middle-aged man next door snoring away blissfully made sleep quite the elusive mistress for me that night as I tossed and turned, which was a shame as the next day would be quite a long and action-packed one for old Nugs. That however is a story for the next installment. Sorry for the excessive length all, hope y'all enjoy!
Barcelona, what is there to say...far too much, and not enough at the same time. A city I truly adore, perhaps the only one more so than my beloved Mokum home.
Having lived here in a brief stint as a hostel worker, for 6 months - I have some familiarity with the city, but I hadn't been back for nearing on three years. So after seeing the city cluttering up my instagram feed and others' travelogues on this site - I decided enough is enough. I pulled the trigger on a relatively short notice flight (10 days or so out), and arranged accommodation (for myself and the missus) for five days and nights in Catalunya. The first three nights in the Raval district of Barcelona, at a very spartan budget hotel. The next two nights in a similar place in Tossa de Mar on the Costa Brava.
Needless to say I spent the following ten days, giddy as ever - I was finally going back. And what's more the burgeoning association scene has evolved and given rise to some quite reputable places since I was last there (e.g. Backyard, La Kalada, The Plug, etc.). When I lived there, I was a member of a few clubs, which have all been since defunct or proven to be among the sketchier tourist places, though in my day the weed was definitely cheaper and still of passable quality (in those days I was on a tighter budget too) varying from 5-9 per gram for some decent sensi; with the occasion absurd stuff going to 10 or 11 per g (even that was a lot back then ca. 2014).
I had visited a few times between living there and this upcoming visit, but relegated myself to private contacts as again I was on a budget, but hey decent sensi at 4 EUR per g is nothing to sneeze at, but I was kin to wade back into the associations scene in town, and see what all the fuss was about!
I digress, Barcelona was calling my name - and that call had finally been answered, mama I was coming home!
Day-I
We opted for an evening flight in the end, but I had already planned that Thursday as a day off, so I took advantage of some respite from a stressful week at work, and allowed myself to pack and prepare at a leisurely pace; whilst the missus worked from home and did her own preparations.
After giving my Pax 3 & Vapcap a nice cannabionoid-cleansing alcohol bath, among other preparations, I took my last fat-dab of S-Flux 'no-name' sauce and bid farewell to the canal-belt as the missus and I made the quick seven minute jaunt on foot over to Centraal.
It was Thursday, and a fine summery day, bright beaming sunshine and 29 degrees cutting through the air (a shame to leave it behind as the forecasts were telling me it was actually warmer here then in our south-bound destination) - I was convinced that even at 2 hours before our departure time, long lines could prove troublesome, however the lines of security were rather short - score! I quickly relieved my pockets of all items and even threw the Pax on the tray in plain sight as it looks rather innocuous, and very much like a power-bank. The speed of security on the other side of the metal detectors however was another story, some paranoid android of an employee was clearly calling the 'for further review/screening' shots as the 'left lane' (the 'naughty list' of x-ray findings) was utterly log-jammed with bins for further review.
I saw both of my bins hovering right before the direction-shifting mechanism and got excited as mine appeared to be headed to the right-lane and the all the sudden I saw the wheels go from diagonal to straight and send both of my bins through to face the reckoning of further scrutiny, much to the chagrin of my puckering butthole. Worse, I had time to sulk on my anxiety - as my bag was not even close to being the only pulled aside. After what seemed like forever a security employee approached me and asked for permission to check my bag, to which I consented. He opened the front compartment and after some poking and prodding produced the green plastic tube bearing the vapcap, to which he opened, smelled, slid out to examine and said 'what's this', I stuttered out "umm..like an e-cig or vape kinda thing you know?!" to which he opened the compartment back up, slid the vape in and said with the most subtle sly smile "oh yes I can smell it!" and sent me on my way, the other bin which had my pocket possessions and various electronics (Pax) included was waived through without any additional examination (despite having been sent to the inspection lane), both I and my puckered sphincter let out a collective sigh of relief.
I hastily grabbed my things before they changed their minds and we made our way to the gate, where it was shown on the monitor that our flight would be at least 15 minutes delayed on the departure time. My girlfriend upon telling me this, makes sure to remark "well this is a Spanish vacation, so it's only natural we start it off being late!" A short while, and an overpriced "cold-pressed" juice later ( seriously shit tasted like it was made from concentrate, #BoycottAirportFood) we've boarded and then in the air. A quick 1 and 45 in the air later and...
TOUCH DOWN BCN - EL PRAT!!!
No checked bags, the missus and I hop aboard the Aerobus which brings us right to the heart of town at Placa Catalunya (think Barcelona's Dam Square) in a quick 25 minutes. I notice that the sun is out and the air is a comfortable 70ish degrees (or 20 for all you commie bastards), in spite of forecasts that had been calling for rain that evening (and it actually had been raining earlier that afternoon), it looks like we took Mokum spell of gorgeous weather with us in our wake. We get off at Catalunya and a immediately make our way down eastward down La Rambla and then slightly southward into the Raval district where our digs are located.
An aside, the Raval - located on the Southern side of Rambla, it's in the Ciutat Vella (old-town) of Barcelona, although that doesn't correspond or fully overlap with what's considered the "center" of town. It's got a lot of rustic charm, and youthful vibrancy - cheap markets, bars, restaurants and other service-oriented businesses (e.g. barber shops), and also happens to home to a vast swath of the city's immigrant community, more specifically non-western immigrants, most notably a large Pakistani community (the city's largest immigrant group). Suffice to say it has a very "ethnic" feel, which I embrace but other racist xenophobes might not. It is seen as seedy by some and consequently despite a very idyllic location and gorgeous historic architecture it has largely withstood the forces of gentrification that have been taking over similar such places (particularly in Amsterdam for example), and that's something which I admire and appreciate about this quarter of the old-town.
I digress, just under 10 minutes walk and we've arrived at our hotel - literally a stoned throw (150m) away is another cannabis-club I've heard good things about: Terps Army, but we'll get back to that later. We check-in, drop our bags and make note of the small (I mean standing room for two at most) balcony which will serve our needs later. Missus has agreed we can make 'stocking up' the first order of business. Google maps in hand and the shoe-lace express in motion we make for the Backyard. The other half, partakes in the herb much less frequently then she once did, so she's only keen to join one club. I figured the best bet was to hit Backyard first, because I've heard so many good things about the price and quality of their flower selection over the years, and I've already managed to score an invite - big thanks to the trusted fellow ACDer who sorted that for me. I decide it's best to join there first as that way I won't be disappointed if I blew most of my funds at another place first and be bummed about what I then couldn't afford to get at Backyard.
As a result, that would be the club my partner would end up joining. It was about a 20 minute walk from the Raval to Backyard, when we arrived to where google-maps had led us, the club being in typical Barcelona association fashion, was completely unmarked, I used the context clues of the heavily tinted sliding doors and lone doorbell to acertain that I hit the mark. I rang and after a few long seconds the doors slid open. A French girl at the reception, inquired about how we had found the places, to which I showed her a few screenshot messages from IG, confirming the possibility of our membership request. She seemed to find it a bit dubious that it was my anonymous 'cannabis-related' account, but I showed her my name within the message and that seemed to appease here enough, and so she promptly got to work entering my profile into the system.
I was told there were no cash transactions permitted past the reception area, and consequently would have to load credit onto the blue drop-shaped reader key that would also serve as my membership pass. Once we were both signed up (20 EUR fee for one year membership btw) the receptionist opened another sliding door to let us in, you first pass a narrow 'bar' area where the serve non-herbal refreshments, typical selection as you would see in a coffeeshop - plus Estrella Galicia bottles (beer) which is a welcome addition yours truly. We go further back and there's a second small room which is the bud counter. We are helped by a friendly Moroccan-French budtender who smiles politely and patiently tends to all my inquiries - taking the time to dig out all the various extracts for me to look at and smell, etc.
Regarding flower, they have their top-shelf varieties in 'pop-tops' with very cool and custom labels for each strain. I ask about these strains, which the budtender informs me are not available 'loose' at the moment but only by the pop-top (an eighth or 3.5g for those not in the know) of varying prices (45-55 per 1/8th I think). So between 12-15 euros per gram I believe. I settle on an eighth of Disco Biscuit (45 EUR) and an eighth of Peach Ozz (50 EUR), and then a gram of Kippax Orange Soda THC-a Sauce (80 EUR), of course this required running back to the reception to upload more credit a few times as I kept (wishfully) under-shooting my budget. The weed from the top-shelf all smelled quite lush, with some exotic 'cali-strain'-esque notes that I haven't experienced from any coffeeshop weed in Mokum if I'm honest. The Disco Biscuit in particular had some spicy, earthy and sweet doughy (alla Gelato-strain) notes. The Peach was similar but a bit more sou fizzy and generally fruity.
Wares in hand, we made our way further back, the decor was simple but cozy-ish, like a modern coffeeshop look, but somehow 'cleaner' if that makes sense. Ample electrical outlets for charging, a Sasquash Rosin-press in the way back (second smoking room with a sky-light beaming through) - to boot there was a beautiful cute little Staffordshire Bull pup named Tangie, fuck a house cat - house dogs are where it's at! Both really tasted lovely in the Pax and sported decent enough potency to boot. After the missus skinned herself a 'pinner' to toke on of Peach Ozz, I tried to have a go on it - but was quickly reminded of why I had forgone combustion altogether, I went back to enjoying the peach's lovely taste notes in the Pax and left it at that. The Peach Ozz, was mildly earthy and sweet doughy, with some sour fizzy fruity notes, and flavor stretch that just wouldn't quit in the Pax, quite impressive. The DB was more doughy and earthy on the initial few pulls, and then the after taste evolves into a sweet creamy profile that's more mellow and smooth. My initial assessment errs towards preference of the Ozz, but after more note-taking later on I grew to appreciate the Disco Biscuit more I think.
Thirst was calling so I headed to the bar to snag a beer and a dab-rig as it was time to crank things up a notch. I grab a Galicia to drink and the bartender sorts me a rig and carb-cap/dabber tool, and says I can collect a torch at the 'dispensary counter'. I blast a few globs of the Kippax sauce which is as expected from a THC-a sauce is quite a firecracker potency-wise, the heavy sweet but tangy citrusy notes really come through on the pallet, there's a some gassy after-notes, however it still has some extra dimension setting it apart from say a Tangie or even 24k Gold based extract - winner in my book! At 80 EUR per gram it seemed steep, however the cheapest I've seen these exact extracts from this same extractor were 90 per g for 2g if you bought from a certain wanker who's popular on Instragram in Mokum (some of you may know to whom I refer), and 70 quid in the UK (about 80 EUR) from another guy on I know on IG. So a fair enough price all-in-all.
Our original plan was to stay about an hour tops at the Backyard and head to a nearby favorite haunt of mine "Veggie Garden" for some plant-based fare; however af few ours of heavy seshing, a few massive globs included, had other plans. We had been glued to our seats for nearly two hours, it was rounding 11 pm and our port of call was a 15+ minute trek with an 11:30 pm close time. We set out on foot convinced we could somehow make it in time, but as we got closer we realized it simply wasn't possible with the time constraints we faced. We wandered somewhat aimlessly towards the Barri Gotica - with another old favorite of mine (Bosco - Catalan/Mediterranean fusion food) in mind, but we arrived and the host originally told us we could eat, but his colleagues yelled to him in Catalan that, it wasn't gonna happen as they were already cleaning up for the evening.
My stoner light-bulb did some flickering before a favorite Pintxos (Basque-style Tapas) that was in the neighborhood sprung to mind - Euskal Extea - so we juanted another 7 minutes northwestward before arriving. Extea is a great hidden little gem, that boasts one of the most stoner-friendly ways of eating good proper Iberian fare, on a reasonable budget, quickly and with minimal human interaction required. The idea is simple, grab a plate - pick from a number the various tapas lining the bar, at your own pace (grab yourself), and then at the end they count the toothpicks, as all items cost a flat 2.10 per tapa - either they have the best low-key security or they rely heavily on the honor system...or perhaps both?! With two beers to wash it down our pintxos, we soaked in the lively rustic ambiance, people watching the throngs of what seemed like only locals (another good sign) - as not a word of English cut the the lively Castellano being spoken across the room. Anyway, in short I highly recommend this place for a more authentic Spanish dining experience.
After the waiter came through counted at our toothpicks and we paid out - we decided we would stop somewhere for one more drink. I put forth Placa Reial area which was roughly in between our hotel and the stretch of the Gothic-quarter in which we found ourselves. We wound up in a a parallel alley to the plaza (a former favorite bar-hopping strip of mine) at skate-punk themed bar "Nevermind" the music is loud, the drinks are cheap, the vibe is edgy and the decor is graffiti and re-purposed skate ramps and quarter-pipes for seating - it reminds one quite a lot of Hill Street Blues (though not 420 friendly), we ordered two Caipirahnas and soaked in the place briefly. It was now rounding the later hours of the evening at a quarter till 2 (or early for the club-going Spaniards rather), so we paid our bill and headed back to the hotel. We went out on the balcony where the missus skinned a pinner of the Disco Biscuit and I loaded myself a Pax chamber of the same before we turned out the lights and bid our fair city or good night. ....or rather she did, my giddiness of being back, coupled with paper thin walls, and (what I imagined) as a pudgy middle-aged man next door snoring away blissfully made sleep quite the elusive mistress for me that night as I tossed and turned, which was a shame as the next day would be quite a long and action-packed one for old Nugs. That however is a story for the next installment. Sorry for the excessive length all, hope y'all enjoy!