Révélations d'un stagiaire: Barcelone
Hemingway once said “to go to bed at night” in Madrid marks you as “totes strange”, and that “for a long time your friends will be a little uncomfortable about it”. I’ve come to learn that Stoke Towers Barcelona operate on a similar premise, and that no-one goes to bed “until the night has been killed”.
So as I returned to Barcelona last night, to finish my Stoke internship, it was this selectively remembered quote that kept me going well into the night, despite knowing I would have to be in the office at 10am (for me that’s early, ok?). Even though I made the exact same mistake last time I arrived, I approached the early hours of the morning with optimism, false confidence in my drinking ability, and leche de pantera (panthers milk).
If this reeks of exaggeration, then check out this video from 50 Fiestas, which proves that drinking from the teat of a large, volatile feline is not only a real thing, but also the cornerstone of any classic night out in Barcelona. It’s also (unsurprisingly) highly alcoholic, gluggable/shottable/sippable and just generally very, very easy to drink. You order a bottle, and by the time you’ve poured it out and topped it with cinnamon, you’re ready for a new one. So this was how my night began, before it descended into a murky Razzmatazz of tequila shots, sticky nightclub DF’s, and face paint.
Determined not to commit the same errors as my first ever night in Barcelona, I downed my panthers milk with the enthusiasm of someone who loves to think of himself as some sort of Hemingway, but has so far only mastered the alcoholic part of being a great writer. At 2am, as we were informed our beloved milk bar was about to shut for the night, and the others suggested hitting up the clubs, I was resolute in my quest to get better at tapping at a keyboard.
“No”, I cried, “I’m going home so that in the morning I can blow millions of minds with my next article about a night out in which ultimately nothing happened! I’m going home. Seriously guys…”
After this point everything is a little blurry, but I believe we did shots before leaving, and I was coaxed into a number of discotheques ranging from “dank beats” to “top 40”. Which was fun? At least allegedly. So here I am, tapping away my hangover with mysterious face paint on my face (at least I hope it’s only on my face), wondering what else I can “reveal” about Stoke and Barcelona.
Things I’ll be dying to come back for
- Fêtes nautiques à Barcelone: they don’t start until April, but when they do you can bet your bottle of leche I’ll be back, pretending to be cool, drinking sensibly, etc.
- Primavera Sound: don’t listen to me, just go check out the lineup.
- Ça ne fait rien: rock/metal/punk bar with a skate park out back. If only we didn’t have such stringent OHS in Australia maybe we could have something as cool as this too…
- Escapade urbaine à Barcelone: Spanish cooking classes, beer tasting, nightly guest list club entry — what more could you want?
- Barcelona to Andorra trip: this one’s happening, like, now – but there’s no way I’m not coming back next year to do it again. Sangria, hot tubs (kidding), and mucho fresh powder.
If you feel like sharing some #revelations of your own, hit us up in the comments below. Oh and if any of these trips pique your interest, why not check out the sexy Passeport de voyage Stoke? Festivals and parties all around europe await…