It is forever the case that when you plan a trip away to any city in the world, a friend slips you the name and address of a bar, as if it were the secret combination to a safe full of riches. It is a bar "no one knows about", says your friend, "and tourists never go there", implying that you keep it secret. Once you are in the bar, you realize your friend was right, no one knows about this place and certainly no tourists have ever set foot in it, but that's because it is the greatest dive you have ever seen in your life. Drinks are pricey, waiters can't pull a beer and don't hesitate to keep you in conversation. But precisely for that reason the place will suddenly become trendy and then one day, in a feeble attempt at hipness, you will find yourself recommending it to others. We say all this because the following is a list of somewhat naughty bars in Barcelona but, and take heed, not all of them come from that same friendly source. Of course we did include joints where you must drop the name of the doorman to get in, a strange kind of behavior that, nonetheless, clients take to. Banned from our list are all those cloned bars, with Italian names and scattered fake coffee sacks all over the place. They didn't make the cut because they don't have doors (which would double their heating bill), which makes some of us quite uneasy.
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Roguish flair. In his song Un amor en cada bar - a love in each bar-, Argentine born rumba singer Gato Pérez, who lived in Barcelona in the 1970s, mentioned Arco del Teatro Street. At number 11, Arco del Teatro you can find Kentucky. It was once a hangout for sailors in search of prostitutes when docked in town. Today, instead, there is a blend of tourists, economic refugees looking to score, and local girls (hard to tell what they are looking for.) The jukebox plays the latest hits of a popular TV program, Operación Triunfo, or maybe a song or two by the great Pablo Abraira. It is run by a very close-knit family.
Underground flair. At George Orwell Square there's a bar called Manolo that everyone calls Marc (in reality, nobody calls Orwell Square by its name, but that's another story for another time). Apparently, the kick of the bar is a dog that attacks you if it doesn't know you. Let's just say, it is best to go there with someone who already knows the place, if only just as a precautionary measure to appease the beast. The owner plays what could be termed as postmodern industrial electronic music. If customers ask him what he's playing, he simply explains that he can't tell, otherwise everyone would know.
Foreign flair. This is the place for all you Liverpool hooligans, if you happen to still be in town. Not that this is a hooligan's bar, but it is certainly packed with Brits. El Dot, at 7 Nou de Sant Francesc, is usually crowded with Erasmus students, which some women always seem happy to meet. It might just be an urban legend, but apparently Erasmus students hardly talk and get straight to business, or so the word goes. Foreigners are also to be found at Barcelona Pipa Club, at number 3, Plaza Reial, furnished with comfortable, relaxing sofas. In order to get in, however, you must knock on the door, call the bouncer and tell him how many of you there are.
Anti-globalization flair. (Could also be called antiglobi) Owned by singer Manu Chao the Bahia, on George Orwell Square, is the anti-globalization joint par excellence. To gain access to Chao, some women have even worn tie-die scarves around their necks.
Kitsch flair. The kitsch atmosphere is akin to that of breasts and lips: It's always nicer if it's natural. But undergoing surgery also has its merits. The kitsch bars we suggest are fake, but enjoyable. El Café que Pone Muebles Navarro, at 4-6 Riera Alta, is an old furniture store with some of its original pieces still lying around. Those long-forgotten sofas gather around pink marble coffee tables that we couldn't have forgotten even if we'd wanted to. The Pilé 43, at number 4 Aglá street, just behind the Plaza Reial, is the kind of place where you can have a snack and buy the chair you sat on while eating it. La bata de boatiné, 18 Robador street, and Benidorm, at 39 Joaquim Costa are two other interesting options. Alfredo Landa would have probably felt at home in the latter, a bar that has a good blend of local and foreign clientele.
Hip flair College boys with the best kept fringes and college girls wearing the cutest little ties all gather round at Mon Bar, in the Plaza del Sol, and at Gusto, 24 Francisco Giner Street. Another hip bar for the older generations of thirty-somethings, and up, is Café Royale, at 3 Nou de Zambrano. Some non-Scottish customers dare to wear their skirts in here so hooligans, be warned, for everyone's sake, please don't come here. Soda, at 24 Avinyó Street, is the bar for fashion victims. Not the kind of place for the anti-globalization types to unwind in, if you understand what I mean.
As you have probably already noticed, we've left gay flair bars out of our listing. The thing is, it is suddenly trendy among heterosexuals to flock en masse to a gay bar "because they play disco music there". Inevitably, the place soon turns into a straight bar and homosexuals who can't walk into their own joint any more must escape elsewhere, keeping their fingers crossed that heteros won't ever find out about this one. So as to stop contributing to the "closed for a change in business orientation" deal, if you like a mixed crowd head to Schilling, at 23 Ferrán Street. In any case, if all you want is a no-nonsense dry martini, we recommend Ideal, at 89 Aribau Street.
* Este artículo apareció en la edición impresa del Viernes, 15 de marzo de 2002