Once we got in we headed right back out and took the metro down to Las Ramblas which is pretty much the touristy city center, but a great stroll past all the hotels, cafe's and shops, and non-stop tourist stands. I was pretty amazed at many conversations in English we heard from passers-by, some business types, some students, some assorted foreign bodies. It was getting dark fast, so we grabbed a quick bite and Coca-Cola Light (the word "Diet" doesn't exist over here) then back to the hotel for a shower then out to dinner.
Tom's sister recommended this great restaurant La Fonda which had a great spanish/cuban vibe, surprisingly reasonable prices and fantastic food. So far Barcelona was not letting us down, and things were only going to get better....
I had peeked at the Euro-Guide I bought before going out for the night and it recommended Bar Marsella, a historic bar that Picasso, Gaudi and Hemingway used to hang out in. There were a bunch of folks just hanging out on the corner, we thought it was some sketchy neighborhood and I looked up at the building and there it was. The guy at the door kept closing the door but didn't seem to be carding or keeping people from going in, but the bartenders eyes were focused on that door every time it opened. Who in the world were they expecting? The first thing I noticed was the smoke, wide array of patrons and layers upon layers of dust on the bottles on the wall. It was like a saloon from the old west. Seriously, this place has NEVER been cleaned, since at the least the turn of the century. The poison of choice here is The Green Fairy, Absinthe!!! 4 Euros, gets you a brandy snifter about a quarter full, a sugar cube and a bottle of water. The idea is you light the sugarcube over the glass, let it burn for a bit then douse the flames with the bottle of water into the glass to dilute it all. You will be thankful, trust me. Apparently you can't order more than 3 of these, the bartender WILL cut you off. Just glancing around the bar I watched patrons giggling, smoking, one hoisting his suitcase over his head, another lighting his friends hair on fire, and THEN the fun began.
Before we got even halfway through our first round, a man at the bar starting getting irate that the bartender cut him off. He kept screaming something, I couldn't really tell what language it was but I had a pretty good idea of what he was saying. The 6'7" - 280 pound barback wasn't having it. He waved the guy off and pointed to the door. This made the man even more ticked off and jumped on his stool and shouted something to the crowd, pumping his fist in the air, and the bar resounded in a unified "YEAH!!!" That was enough to get the barback to jump over the bar and assist the man out of the bar. There was another doorman at the side door who was also helping get the belligerent mans friends out and things got ugly on the street. Next thing we saw, the first man who had been mouthing off popped back in the bar, grabbed a barstool and hurled it over the bar AT the bar. Shattering a good section of the bar and the historic dusty bottles. Some more of the people from the street fought their way back in and a few more chairs and stools went flying and the melee was in full swing. Tom and I kept looking at each other while this was going on. It was like we were watching this on a movie screen from behind a glass partition, but we were just curious passers-by, taking it all in from the corner of the bar. Soon enough they cleared the bar, we were on the street and next thing you know several cops showed up in full riot gear. We followed the action for a few minutes then I reminded Tom our passports were still on the bus so we may want to make a quick exit. He agreed and off we went. I think I have great pilot to sell here.
If that weren't enough, we met up with the band at a bar called Rebourn in the El Born district of Barcelona, the hip, east-village part of town. We had a beer, walked around the area for a while taking in the late night sights and made our way back to the bar. It was at least 3am, and they had stayed open for us. A few drinks later, me, Tom and Sean were talking about heavy metal in the corner when someone started playing the piano. Naturally, Sean was distracted like a cat to string, and sauntered over pleading to play the piano. I bet Tom a beer he would play an Elton John song. Sure enough, from across the room I hear the opening piano riff from "Benny and the Jets." I got my beer. Then Sean informed us that Elton was his godfather. Why did this not come as a surprise? Next we knew we were all singing "God Only Knows", "Moondance" (at the request of the Spaniards) and the next request that Sean was just drunk enough to tackle was his father's "Oh, Darling". I don't think there is a more appropriate use of the term, surreal. Only fitting for this night.
About 5am, it was time to cab it back to the hotel, then Sean invited us back to his room for a nightcap. Minibar, anyone? We sat around and gabbed, listened to some songs Sean had been working on and just shot the shit like any guys in the music biz would do. It was the perfect end to one wild night.
The next day was a standard day of some quick sightseeing before the gig, then we had to leave town for Madrid after the show. Barcelona, I am not through with you, but you now have alot to live up to.
Gaudi's La Sagrada Familia
The Atlantic Ocean from the Other side
Sean in Red
