INSIDE beaaatch’s ballof love///double listings///la fatxa!
Week Cuina Guarra BCN
for those who’ve had their fill of haute cuisine
PA G E 3
B A R C E L O N A ’ S F R E E C U L T U R A L N E W S W E E K LY | W W W . B C N W E E K . C O M | A U G 1 8 – 3 0 , 2 0 0 6
BY JILLIAN EUGENIOS
BY ALEC RADFORD
BY BRUCE ADAMS
LUXURY BY LINA ROSENGREN
LONE MAN WALKING
SHOW THEM BY ADAM X
BY ROGER APLON
S U M M E R D O U B L E - H E A D E R E X T R AVA G A N Z A
VOL 1, NO 12
THE FICTION ISSUE SOME WERE SALVAGED FROM LA BASURA. OTHERS WERE CHANNELED FROM THE DEAD DURING A SÉANCE.THE REST YOU EMAILED US. OUR FIRST EVER NÚMERO DE FICCIÓ.
PostScript Picture (PEARL JAM BCNWEEK)
VOL 1, NO 12
AUG 18-30, 2006 W W W. B C N W E E K . C O M
E D IT O R’ S L E T T E R It was a Thursday night, which means school night for BCN WEEK. The idea was to pop into Apollo  for an hour or so and responsibly duck out after getting our sufficient fill of overpriced drinks, smoke inhalation and mild rump shaking. As it often enough happens in the time warp known as Barcelona, what felt like two hours was actually five. Neon mobile screens lit up the sala to be greeted with inquisitive glares at clocks reading 5:56. Four minutes later the lights came on and the ambassadors of the nightlife spilled out the back door — puddles of what they had resembled five hours prior. But luckily we live in a city that approves of this reckless abandon. Any given day at 6AM, depending on your barrio, the streets will be packed with people exhibiting varying degrees of inebriation and general tomfoolery. Surely many of them have to wake up early in the morning and function in a quasi-productive way. Staying out past bedtime and heading to work with a hangover isn’t unusual in Barcelona — it’s expected and in fact encouraged. So we say capitalize on this and enjoy your guilt-free penúltima. We have gotten a surprising amount of emails in the past few weeks asking where we are. On vacation like everyone else. Calm down. We’ll be back full time in September. In an attempt to appease you, this week we have a double fiction issue (double listings, lots of local fiction) which we hope will tide you over until September. Hasta Septiembre!
La Cuina Guarra BY
late night dejected * sandwich *THIS RECIPE ISN’T KOSHER, BUT THEN YOU DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE JEWISH ANYWAY. INGREDIENTS
Bread I used Silueta ‘8 cereales y semillas’ sin corteza because I had some.
Sobrassada Cream Cheese Can of Olives preferably those green gazpatxo-flavored pitless ones.
Bottle of Whiskey I used Cardhu for this recipe; you are welcome to the swill of your choice.
J E N N @ B C N W E E K .CO M
P R E PA R AT I O N
staff Marcus Villaça foundeR / creative director Jennifer Cross co-founder / editor / publisher Lena Wiget managing / listings editor David Tressel copy editor Alfredo Lahoz photo editor Tiffany Carter proofreader / pie baker Laurent Bompard distribution director Kade Agan editorial ntern Natalie Feary editorial ntern
1 It’s hot. Try drinking the whiskey with ice to be different. Pour yourself a nice big glass and sit down for a few minutes. Rest while your thoughts wander. If you need to cry, cry. If you are angry, break something, however small. Then breathe. Breathe. 2 Realize that you are hungry and that you will feel very bad in the morning if you keep drinking on an empty tummy like this. Remember this morning? You should eat something.
3 Get up and walk to the fridge. Look inside for something that’s not going to take much effort. Begin to feel yet more dejected. “I don’t want to leave the piso. At all,” you think. “Besides, all that’s open is H3.” Don’t worry, look! There are two little containers of pasty goodness! Olives! And that bread that, miraculously, never molds! 4 Spread sobrassada on one slice of bread and cream cheese on another. Cut your olives into rings and spread them evenly but generously on the cream cheese side. Press together. 5 Light your stove and set it to low. Put a pan on that there fire. Refresh your drink while you are waiting for the pan to heat. 6 Gently place your sandwich in the pan. Let it toast on one side for a minute or two and flip it. Repeat if necessary. You want the bread golden and crispy and the innards melty and gooey. 7 Remember to turn off the stove.
editorial contributors Bruce Adams, Roger Aplon, Laurent Bompard, Tiffany Carter, Isolda Dosrius Déulafeu, Karina Erhard, Jillian Eugenios, Agnes Fecher, Natalie Feary, Peter Hames, Erin Van de Hey, Noelle Julian, Alec Radford, Lina Rosengren, Spencer Tarp, Lucy Wyatt, Adam X
art contributors Toni BG, Alfredo Lahoz, utensil
advertising sales Domenico Composto firstname.lastname@example.org Joe Littenberg email@example.com Robert Senior firstname.lastname@example.org
San Gil 2, bajos 2, 08001 Barcelona, Spain email@example.com | www.bcnweek.com D.L. L-741-06 © 2006 all rights reserved
Guiri Trivia! GEORGE ORWELLWAS SHOT IN THE NECK ON MAY 20, 1937,AN EXPERIENCE HE DESCRIBED IN HIS SHORT ESSAY “WOUNDED BY A FASCIST SNIPER”,AS WELL AS IN HOMAGE TO CATALONIA. HE AND HIS WIFE EILEEN LEFT SPAIN AFTER NARROWLY MISSING BEING ARRESTED AS “TROTSKYITES”WHEN THE COMMUNISTS MOVED TO SUPPRESS THE POUM IN BARCELONA IN JUNE 1937. W W W. G E O R G E - O RW E L L . O R G
THE PUTRID,THE EERY,AND THE SIMPLY HILARIOUS. OUR FIRST EVER NÚMERO DE FICCIÓ.
Fulfilling PropheCy BY
Antonio yells, “Mark!” out of his interior window up towards that of his English speaking neighbor, “come down. Today I show you important tradition, religious tradition. MARK!!” The boy descends the stairwell that is nothing special or different, only dark and old and worn by foot over step over footstep, by feet climbing and descending year after year after year until the reality is a monotony pound and ground eroding just a bit more each time. In the kitchen that was finished in a time when everyone was short, decisions were few, work could only be a chore, and God was required, the boy watches the old man, “today I show you about the palomas, how to take care of it.” Antonio is a cultural educator for the fair skinned foreign boy. Mark is young of face and attitude; he has soft hands and wide brown eyes that blink questioningly, like he wants to know more. On the marble counter top that comes up just below the boy’s crotch lay eight old baguettes. The sink is full of water. “If you ask, they sell old baguettes cheap, sometimes free.” He begins to break them in two, across his knee like kindling for a fire and places them in the water, “have to be wet all, or it’s too hard, they can’t eat.” The boy looks around the fluorescently lit kitchen and the dirty shelves as the bulb above flickers just very slightly flashing quicker than a judgment, sudden black and blaring white, like a nightmare. The two walk along the small and dirty sidewalk with a plastic bag full of wet bread, dripping. The day is clear and not yet hot. Antonio empties the bag and like starving and neglected winged rats, pigeons swarm upon the wet, pulpy pile, “says like this in the bible. Makes prophesy true, or I always try
to make true.” They sit in the triangle shaped plaza that is close to their building. Antonio has been talking the entire time. Mark has been listening the entire time, “you are handsome boy.” Antonio’s teeth look dead, he smells dirty, his hair is black and greasy and caked with dandruff, “you have lots of luck, you do what you want.” The boy smiles kindly. The filthy birds scramble one over the other, small pointed beaks peck peck pecking, over and over, with the same force and angle while gluttonous shiny eyes look blindly. The two men sit in silence watching the bird spectacle, the rippling pool of feather and wing and leg and neck and head peck peck pecking. Then one flops into seizure twisting its body onto its back, wings flapping at irregular intervals hard against the plaza’s floor raising a kind of dusty filth, its small body arching and flopping as if it were being fucked by the Holy Spirit, flapping, the guilty beak opening and closing slowly then quickly full with a silent scream, glossy black pin point eyes stare fixedly. Then another, and another, and another, soon all fall into states of seizure, horribly. Mark’s expression is wide and confused; Antonio’s frustrated, “no. Joder. It is hard to make right. I put too much. I want that they fall, that they leave and fly and then fall, like bible prophesy.” He stands, “let’s go, there’s nothing left.” The boy, his brows pushing lines into his forehead, stays staring seemingly unable to move. They’re all turbulently twitching. The concentrated and tight circle of head down pecking has become loose and revolting, some begin to slow their convulsion, and others only jerk a single wing, over and over and over. People, besides the boy, have begun to stop and comment but there is nothing to do…but watch. Antonio is nearly home. Bruce Adams received a Masters degree in Creative Writing from the University of Sydney in 2004 and was awarded the Rains Award for Short Fiction in the same year.He moved to Barcelona in 2005 to develop his portfolio of short fiction and outline a novel.While originally planning to be abroad for nine months,Barcelona has hooked him and he is unsure how to free himself.
hey baby BY
After she died, a man I don’t know was the first one to touch me. He is in line behind me at the grocery store, and he brushes sand off my back from the spot in between my shoulder blades. “You have sand on your back,” he says, in English with an Italian accent even though we are in the middle of Barcelona. He is chewing on a corner of his credit card. One corner is completely gnawed off. In his hand is a cheap child’s doll. “I wish people would tell me when I have sand on me.” He says, “You can’t see your own back.” Later, at work, I’m teaching a new co-worker how to cook the books. She is a girl from Georgia with a sweet face and a name I can’t remember but could probably guess. While I’m explaining how to fake the receipts she interrupts me and says, “Nice shirt. I like those peasant-style tops.” I look her in the eye and don’t tell her it’s a maternity shirt I haven’t needed to wear for months. *** That night they had turned off the geysers on one of the fountains in Plaça Catalunya. Or it was broken. Doesn’t matter. It was fall, getting colder but it wasn’t cold, and most of summer’s tourists had gone. I sat on a bench and stared. The woman came around two a.m. She didn’t look at me, just walked over to the still waters of the fountain and looked in. She appeared to be homeless, and if it wasn’t for the over-sized briefcase she carried I’d have assumed she was looking for change. She hurled her suitcase onto the ledge with a grunt and began emptying its contents. I gripped the iron bars of the bench when I saw what she was doing. Dozens of doll heads. If the head had hair, she would wind it up like a baseball and throw it in. Other heads she skipped like rocks, some
she tossed like coins. A precious few she laid in the water and then pushed off, away from her, like little sailboats. I thought of the sailboats I used to watch my brother and grandfather make as a child. I thought of them, remembered they were gone too, and cracked a beer I’d bought from a guy above the metro stop on Las Ramblas. The woman lit a cigarette and nudged the briefcase so it fell into the water. She looked straight at me and motioned me over. I hesitated, looked around. The plaça was silent and empty except for a group of kids standing at the crosswalk. The woman had long, curly hair and was wearing a big pouffy dress. When I got closer I realized the dress was a sheet decorated with stars and racecars. She held out her cigarette and placed it in my mouth. I could feel the heat of her fingers against my lips. I sucked in and took a long, full drag. She smiled, showing me her big, toothless gums. I glanced at the drowning briefcase. “Para ti,” she said, for you, and left, dragging the train of her sheet behind her. *** I was home doing the washing up when I remembered it. The round head of a baby doll with her eyes drilled out. She was sitting on the window ledge in a dead plant with cigarette burns through its leaves. “Whose is this?” I pointed a long, wet, soapy finger an inch away from her dirty button nose. “Whose is this?” Everything stayed silent. Empty. Nada.
The day was lost in her bed, slick and refreshing, a shower of another type, washing away feelings of emptiness and need. Night came with the ease of the sea, the motion of a small wave. At the end we were melted and spread across the sheet, in too much thought to break the silence. Detrimental. “Music?” I asked. She just looked away, at the corner of the room, where it used to be but where there was only space now. I noticed that the shelves were bare. I noticed the two bags in the corner. Her posters were still up, but they didn’t stop the rest of the room from becoming empty right in front of me with each glance in any direction. She re-formed, lips first, legs last, sat up and rolled her whole self over me, pushing me into the sheets. Melted again, but not so long this time, not long enough for silence to trickle out or tears to break. “My flight’s at eight, I’m going down for a cab. No one else is here, but it has to be empty by noon.” The sheet absorbed me just a little longer when she walked out the door, but an hour later, as the sun hit her room, the sheets pushed me out, as vapor, into the summer air. I floated through the window and out over the city, to be breathed in by the lungs of drunk and carefree travelers and waiting to fall as a mist into the pits and crevices of lovers’ chests as they lay awake in the heat, trying to think of what to say.
The way the heat sticks here is unbearable, as though the top layer of your skin is wet tissue. Heavy air floats in at night and blankets you, suffocating and stagnant. Dancing in the club, any club, my tee shirt coats me and stays damp until it’s hanging outside of the bedroom window days later. I didn’t have a shirt on when I saw her again, neither did she. “Is anybody with you?” I looked up and recognition forced a smile wide across my face. It was the end of the movie: when the song comes in and the hero embraces his
— Can I ask you something? — Sure. — Why are you doing this? I mean, you seem smart; you’re well educated, I’m sure you could get another job. — I have another job; this is more like a hobby. — A hobby? He raises one eyebrow. — Yeah, you know, I like to help people out. He turns his head back and laughs. — I bet you do! — What’s so funny? I helped you here, right? I escorted you here, and here you are safely escorted to your hotel.
They sit in the triangle shaped plaza that is close to their building.Antonio has been talking the entire time.Mark has been listening the entire time,“you are handsome boy.”Antonio’s teeth look dead,he smells dirty,his hair is black and greasy and caked with dandruff, “you have lots of luck,you do what you want.”The boy smiles kindly. love, leaving jaws clenched and lips pursed, holding back tears of joy and cursing dramatic effect. “No, go ahead. I was saving it for you” She put her towel down and that was it. It had been nearly three months since our last meeting between the fountains, like always: me with a joint and her with her sunglasses. Big, European, like the ones models wear in ads. Something had happened the last time, a lack of interest, trust, or commitment. I couldn’t tell which and I didn’t care to find out cause it had been lonelier since with other girls. She and I, we weren’t in love. “In like” she called it once. I agreed in spite of my realized vocabulary; there wasn’t a better explanation in less than a small composition and the thought put into it could be detrimental. When we climbed the stairs to her flat the air was on me, 76 stairs squeezing out an unfair mixture of alcohol and water, she lived on the second floor. Fourth floor by any logical ordering. When we were in she turned and looked up, directly in, eyes open, no confusion, no hesitation. She put her hand on my chest where my shirt was stuck. “You’re all wet.”
— I see... Then you might wanna help me out with some other stuff as well? He lends towards me and puts his hand on my thigh. — I guess I could, but first I’m gonna take a shower… a hot shower. It’s been two weeks. — You don’t have a shower? — Yeah, but the heater is broken. Me and my friend live in one of those old apartments in Barrio Gótico. It gets really cold in the winter. You can hardly even be there. I open the mini bar and take out two miniature bottles of vodka. — So this is luxury for you — You have no idea! I search my pocket and take out a little plastic bottle. — What’s that? — I have a headache.
U X G *
the touring poetry librarian NEW IDEAS IN POETIC CIRCULATION BY
My image of librarians has always been that of hunched-over, skinny old women with grey hair wearing floral prints and creeping silently around libraries. As I wandered into Plaça Reial on a Saturday afternoon, all I could see was a fat old lady and a couple of hippies with a dog. I started to worry what this ‘itinerant poetry librarian’ might be like. When I finally encountered Sara Wingate Gray, she turned out to be a feisty looking girl with short blonde hair, ripped jeans, and a huge backpack. Accompanying her was a friend with a bleached blonde mohawk and extremely white teeth. I thought to myself that this could be interesting. Sara launched enthusiastically into the tales of her travels, though I didn’t fully understand the concept. A traveling poetry library? Where did she get that idea from? ‘I literally had the idea lying in bed one day, it was like — Eureka!’ she exclaimed. After deciding that the café in England where she hosted her ‘poetry cubicle’ was just a money-grabbing establishment with no real interest in her work, it was time to take her poetry to the people. How does it work exactly? Sara sets up in any café, shop, or place that will take her in, wearing a librarian’s suit, glasses, and putting up a sign stating she is open. Members fill out a card and receive the ‘bye-bye laws.’ These stipulate that people can borrow a book only for as long as they are in her sight. If they fall asleep while reading they will awake to find that they have been stamped and have become ‘property of the library.’ They can also be thrown out for an offensive hairstyle, which made me skeptical about her friend’s membership. I found her on her ninth stop round Europe after touring the likes of Amsterdam, Vienna and Budapest where she has interviewed poets, set up her library and performed poetry. The poetry performance is quite literally a performance, entailing her sitting perfectly still until someone pushes a button which brings her to life and launches her into her poem. Highlights of her travels? Her poetry collection has grown from 50 to 80 books (making her unable to travel by plane), she has attended a concert in a nuclear bunker, and was groped by a busker while waiting for someone to push her button so she could recite a poem. Barcelona has not proved to be her favourite of all places. The café that had agreed to host her refused to let her set up, and the guy whose flat she was couch-surfing at turned out to be an evil sleazebag who tried to turf her out when he realised his luck might be better with two Lithuanian girls than a nomadic librarian. So what keeps her going? Her love of poetry? She in fact admits to actually preferring prose, but at least she’s different from the usual traveler and is putting her poetry MA to use in some way. Maybe that’s why The Guardian has listed her as one of its “100 Hottest Women”. Although carrying 80 poetry books round Europe is not my thing, I start to wonder if taking something new to the masses might not be such a bad idea. Failing that, one could always cycle round Europe like Mohawk girl, sleeping in parks, and being stoned out of villages by children. But on second thought it all sounds too much like hard work. I think strolling down to the nearest plaça for a drink is by far more than enough for me right now.
Guiri Trivia! CARLOS RUIZ ZAFÓN IS A SPANISH NOVELIST. BORN IN BARCELONA IN 1964, HE HAS LIVED IN LOS ANGELES, UNITED STATES, SINCE 1994. IN 2001 HE PUBLISHED THE NOVEL LA SOMBRA DEL VIENTO (“THE SHADOW OF THE WIND”),WHICH HAS SOLD MILLIONS OF COPIES WORLDWIDE. HIS WORKS HAVE BEEN PUBLISHED IN MORE THAN 30 LANGUAGES. WIKIPEDIA I put a pill in my mouth and start chewing it.
— You don’t swallow with water? — I swallow without water. He laughs again. He looks excited. Or, actually I don’t I think to myself as I turn my back on him to spit the chewed tablet into the little vodka bottle. I hand it to him. — Bottoms up! I watch him empty the bottle. — I’m gonna take a shower. — All right. He reaches for the remote control and leans back on the bed as I close myself in the bathroom. I rinse my mouth and stretch out on the floor. The floor is warm. How nice, they’ve even got floor heating. I calculate that the pill will have this guy knocked out within fifteen minutes. I hope that my friend, who is also a dealer, gave me the right stuff and not ecstasy or some shit that’ll make him bounce around like a horny rabbit. When I get out from the bathroom he’s sleeping like a baby. I look at him. He seems to be a nice guy, not sleazy or anything, just a young yuppie on a business trip. I roll him over the bed. He’s drooling copiously. I push him onto the floor face down so that he doesn’t choke trying to be careful that he doesn’t hit his head. I don’t know where to put him, so I push his body in under the bed. The phone rings. It’s Karen. — Are you done?
show them BY
Tonight the cricket-buzz of girls crushing ice in bars is particularly loud (this is in the bedroom). Not everyone speaks the same language but most have read The Alchemist and it pretty much changed their lives (this is in the club). For once the queue for the men’s room outgrows the line of girls waiting to powder their noses. This happens every Friday. The first hour is not so bad. It was a long day, and, naturally, your thoughts need a while to run down. Inactivity for you is unusual enough to be interesting for a while, and besides, didn’t you have a coffee not so long ago? Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. But you can wait. You get a glass of water. You hear: Anna: swedish, blonde, fluent in, well, almost everything, bending over to get a fresh carton of orange juice for the panting guy in red shorts. His hard-on, pressed up against the other side of the bar, is just inches from her lightly freckled face, if you ignore the thickness of wood that separates the two (this is in
spattering on the cobbles below. Maybe they’ll walk home this way (from the club). Maybe you’ll sleep now (in the bedroom). Adam X is 21 and from London.He just finished University and has come to live the dream in El Born,where his wicked vegan housemates starve him to death.In his time off from caring about the world he’s co-founding an international design cooperative with said vegans.One day they hope to get paid.
lone man walking BY
From one traffic light to the next the man alone in slippers & gown walks beside women linked by two’s & by four’s who sway in the dark to alluring guitars. Couples turn away to kiss & caress & dogs bare their teeth & mark his step & howl. & the man alone looks but no one looks back as he walks in the night to the top of Carrer de Pau Claris & left for a while on Avinguda Diagonal & to the right on Carrer d’Aribau &, finding it empty except for the bartender, enters Cafeteria O’Brindis & orders a glass of mature Rioja & after another returns to the street where he pauses & scours the sky as if seeking a sign or omen that never comes. Around the corner on Carrer de Maria Cubi he finds the steps to the door for Sauna Lys & rings the bell. This is not his first encounter with the women of Sauna Lys
Meanwhile (in the bedroom) you too are sweating but this is the bed sweats.You feel a tingle in your bladder.You know you sank enough water and coffee this evening for at least three blind trips to the bathroom. — I’m done. — Good, Tomorrow we’ll just write him a note: “Thanks for a wild night; you were still asleep so I took my money from your wallet, bla, bla.” He’s gonna be happy thinking he got laid, but was to drunk to remember it. — You’re sure? — Off course, it always works! Just don’t steal anything! Take the money he said he was gonna pay you, and look for his address. Did you take the photo? — I thought that was a joke. — No, take a photo of him with a banana up his ass or something, than you can blackmail him if he puts up any trouble. — I won’t fucking blackmail him! — Just in case, anyways, I checked the TV guide, do we have Canal+? — It’s the Hotel Arts. We probably have all the channels. — Great! Canal+ shows “Pirates of the Caribbean” at eleven and “Lucky Number Seven” at two. Do you want me to bring something? — We got room service you know...wait, bring a bikini so we can go to go to the spa and have treatments, we’ll just put it on the room! — We sooo deserve this! TV! A hot shower! A fucking spa! — Hotel breakfast! — Okay, see you in fifteen! — See ya!
Lina Rosengren is surprisingly unblonde to be Swedish.She lives in Barcelona and her main interests at the moment are peace,love,understanding,nuns and salty licorice.
the club again). Back here (in the room) where the fan breathes heavily in your ear the sound is indistinct. But you can tell. Another glass. The second hour is more difficult. You could have been up for a while, writing that novel, doing that picture, talking to this or that girl. Second hour means you’re in for the night. The bar is loud and sometimes Anna has to lean across the bar to hear what that man with the beard is saying. She puts her face beside his and talks directly into his ear. From a few meters away (i.e. in the club) that could totally be kissing. In any case, they’ve shared a moment: her lip-gloss rubs off on his forehead, his sweat drips down her cheek. Meanwhile (in the bedroom) you too are sweating but this is the bed sweats. You couldn’t be less aroused. You feel a tingle in your bladder. You know you sank enough water and coffee this evening for at least three blind trips to the bathroom, groping over furniture, stepping in that bowl of whatever it was you nearly ate last night. Bladder: “Ok, so maybe you’ll doze in the next twenty minutes. So what. I can get you up. And I will. I’m like that. You fuck with me I fuck with you.” You know this is true. And once you have left (the room), beardy (in the club), or maybe some kid in delicately sourced vintage hi-tops (where do they get them and why do they bother?), will move in for the kill. Anna will be helpless. You suspect that basically, fundamentally, secretly, she is a slut. It’s unfortunate but true. It’s been a long night for her too and she’s got pretty worked up. You bet she lures them in with that squeaky-clean butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-lusciousscandinavian-mouth thing and then takes them home and does bad things to them. She’s weighing up Red’s obvious readiness, Beardy’s rugged dirtiness, Hi-tops’ big eager eyes and natty threads. She wants them all, wants to break them all. Your bladder becomes more insistent, in garbled and angry words. But you musn’t leave. You think. You approach the balcony (this is in the room), keeping an ear on Anna and her man toys. You take it out and rest it over the edge. You let go. You hear: the
but tonight the door is opened by a woman he has never seen & when she takes his hand he notices her skin is slick & cool & her lavender eyes are hooded & when she smiles her teeth are stark & white & her breath smells of cinnamon & earth & when she leads the way to the beds upstairs he watches the twitching of her high round hips & thinks of the hypnotic undulations of a cunning Cobra & when she washes him he watches her tongue flick & dart as if she were testing the air for something to eat & when she pulls him into her he unleashes a sound much like a cry of mourning heard in the hills above his first home in Fez. & when they pause for a drink & time to reflect she fondles him & coos his name &, nibbling his neck, nips the skin to taste a pearl of blood & when she has him again her body appears to grow longer & wider & envelops his … as if she might actually consume him. & at the door, just as he’s about to leave, she whispers, a sly smile drawing down her thin, wet lips, “Eat one for me, Baby.” & now he’s back on the street & shivering in the unseasonable heat & he doesn’t want to see but the night has changed & the street is bright with fire & the Plane Trees are framed in ice & there’s the howling of the dogs again & the distinct sound of hooves on stone as if a herd of horses or goats were on the move & a thunderous beating of wings as if a thousand bats were coursing through the limpid air & now he turns left toward Carrer de Balmes & we see he walks with a cane & there are no guitars & no luxurious women & no couples left to seize his eye or ear but on he goes across the night & into the years & cannot stop. Roger Aplonwas one of the founders of CHOICE Magazine with Aaron Siskind and John Logan.He is the author of five collections of poetry: Stiletto, By Dawn’s Early Light At 120 Miles Per Hour, It’s Mother’s Day, Barcelona Diary and,most recently, The Man With His Back To The Room. Born in Chicago, he has also resided in San Francisco and San Diego.He now splits his time between Barcelona and NYC where he writes and from which he travels wherever and whenever possible. Intimacies: Prose Poems & Stories will be issued fall 2006.
PIZZA & SALADS / TERRACE SUN & SHADE / “TAKE AWAY” MON–FRI 19:30-1:30 / SAT 12:30-1:30 KITCHEN OPEN NON STOP
OV E RH E A R D BY
Erin Van de Hey
‘cercanías’ *** Cercanías train (Translated from Spanish) Baby somewhere in train: Sniffle. Sniffle. Cry cry cry… Kid mocking baby: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! *** Repeat 10x Mom: ¡Basta! Willyou shut up already? Kid:Why? I’m not the one crying. *** Fast Burger in Plaza Catalunya Girlfriend: I’m getting a hot dog. Boyfriend:Yuck,why? Girlfriend: I’m tired of Spanish meat. Boyfriend: How do you know the hot dog’s not made of Spanish meat? Girlfriend: It can’t be, it’s a hot dog. *** Random Irish Bar American roommate,after 6 or 7 vodka tonics: So, I have to ask you something. Swiss roommate: Ok….
CM: So let’s get pissed then. SH: Right. *** Cercanías train III (Mataró to BCN) British teenager looking at Metro map in the L3 tunnel:Where’s the beach? Passerby: By the water. *** L3 Metro A gay couple is bantering,teasing one another about getting fat.After three stops,the couple gets off the metro. *** L3 Metro II Scottish husband: Did you see that? Scottish wife: See what? Scottish husband: Those guys… (gesturing to where couple was standing) Scottish wife: Oh, shhh.This is Spain, that’s normal.
‘here it is really normal.Here we value our families more than they do in other countries.’ American roommate: So, I know you’re not actually German, but do you know why Hitler killed all those Jews? Swiss roommate: (Looking mortified) Uh,what? American roommate: I mean, I know it’s not your fault, but do you know why? Swiss roommate:Well… American roommate: I just thought that since you speak German…that was something they might teach you in school. *** Ciutadella Beach Tan Girl: God,there’s a lot of fat guys here in Speedos. Less Tan Girl: It’s like they don’t even know. Tan Girl: I know! Less Tan Girl: It’s so not like this in America. *** Cercanías train II (Mataró to BCN) Shaved head: So what’s in Barcelona? Curly mop: I dunno. SH: That Gothic church? CM:Yeah, by Gaudí. SH: I don’t feel like seeing a bloody church.
*** C2 platform (Plaza Catalunya) A large group of people laden down with beach equipment is waiting in Cercanías.When the train arrives, there is much jostling to board. Inside the now moving train:
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Guy 1: Hey,where´s Chris? Guy 2: I dunno. Guy 1: Shit, he´s still on the fucking platform! Guy 2:What? Well, I guess Chris isn’t going to the beach today. *** C2 platform II An American girl and a German guy are talking to each other in Spanish at a party. Guy: So where are you from? Girl: The United States. Guy: Do you speak English? Girl: (In English) Yes. Guy: (Still in Spanish) Where did you learn? Girl: (In English again) Um, from my parents? Guy: (Now in English) Wow,you speak pretty well! Girl:Yeah…because I’m American. Guy: I know, but where did you learn? Girl: ??
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‘the swedish’ I’m at Jaica, every morning only to preserve it. Later I’ll go to the beach, only to preserve it. Like a scientific investigator I take notes about the behavior and appearance of this kind of “humans”: my friends the guiris. The summer is the most dangerous time. They are everywhere in my city. I’m thinking about solutions to protect us. Maybe I’ll propose to Mr. Clos to use the Forum for...Sweden people?? Yes. Here they are coming. Sitting near me. 3 girls and 2 boys. Blonde and blue eyes. Red skin, gamba colour, this is a clear symptom they were under the sun a little bite more than they can support. The guiris never will learn this lesson!! Smiling and drinking refreshing beer. Talking about la “marcha”. Nothing new for the
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understand this offering. The Sweden boy questions where are they from, and suddenly he goes back to the table, gives to his friends the new info, and the girls with lasciviouness in their voices, said: yes, yes, it’s ok. The Sweden boy goes once again where the French ones are. “Quin mareig!” The French faces are still as a statue or strange picture. No movement, and me neither. They can’t believe it, and me neither... Finally the Sweden guiri explain them that his friends, the girls, ‘are interested in you, and later, after drinking at night, if they want to enjoy your bodies...’ “Per Déu!” ‘Please, do you want to sit with us?’ Didier looks at Jérôme, Jérôme looks at Didier, I look at Didier, at Jérôme and at the Sweden boy. They look at me, later at their
Bye, French boys. Poor Sweden girls! Indignated!! ‘Are we not enough beauty for them?’ ‘What’s the problem?’
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moment. They are a temporary guiris. Suddenly one of the three girls stop talking and look at 2 French boys who are stoped on the other side of the Jaica’s terrace. Who are they? Oh! I know them by sight: Didier and Jérôme, they are French-resident-guiris in this quarter. Black hair and white skin. Tall boys. The Sweden girl tell her friends there are 2 interesting dark-haired men. Now they are speaking Swedish, I can’t get them, shit! While the women are painting their lips. Yet again, suddenly one of the Sweden boys stands up and goes to the french boys. At the same time I’m gonna change my table, near them for listening “tot”. “Què xafardera! però aquí hi ha marro!”. I can’t believe what they are saying!!! My God! “Quins poca-vergonyes!” The Sweden boy asks to the French ones if they want to sit with Sweden people. Until here, good. But the French ones can’t
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faces. Didier: ‘this offer it’s not for me it’s for you, Jérôme’, and Jérôme: ‘no, the sexy Sweden girls want to know you’. “Que si tu, que si jo no, que si tu, que si...” Finally, both at the same time: ‘Ok’. ‘Ok? Then, you will sit with us...’ ‘No, sorry man, I’ve go to see my girlfriend’ and ‘I’ve to... to... go with him’. Bye, French boys. Poor Sweden girls! Indignated!! ‘Are we not enough beauty for them?’ ‘What’s the problem?’ Listen to me Didier and Jérôme, please, be careful at the beach! Perhaps, some day some Sweden girls will rape you... Mmmmh! I must advertise Mimí, the Sweden strategy is expeditious, really expeditious, my God! When isolde dosrius Délafeu was a happy little girl, she learned very early the lying art. Now,arrogant and ambitious woman, she get married with catalan man (arrogant & ambitious man, of course!)
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Love, oh love, oh sweet smelling and so teasingly aloof love, like the wet summer dream of a firm-buttocked bullfighter causing a butterfly rave in my belly flitting flitting from my memory in the first seconds of consciousness. Love, come back to me. Like a ball bouncing away, a love-ball bouncing away. Loveball, Loveball 2006. If the truth be told, it was only Boy George and a prearranged press pass that got me to the Great Ball of Love. The party was to be the same. I was sure of it. The party I’ve partied year after crumbling year, the same smackeyed and sweaty faceless face flashylight-fun party that would surely bleed into the common fogged memory of all the previous parties with the Boy being the aged cream that would float to the top of the soured crop, being the barely remarkable difference, buoyantly. Oh, but I was so wonderfully mistaken, so deliciously and dickdiggedly mistaken. Soon after arriving I realized that just by breathing the air something was changing, developing, and evolving within me. It was so powerful I had to take a deep breath and sit down. Had I already taken a little and bitter crazy pill? No, this was a natural high, a spiritual invasion, the Great Ball of Love possessed me and I fell happily. I grabbed hold of the first man to pass by with a forceful innocence and asked him to please explain it me, to help me. I stumbled through a desperate request for more, that he should tell me why I felt so right and
said that is was ok, that he already knew, and that he would help me to understand. He was unbearably handsome with dark southern features and strong white teeth. He explained to me that this wasn’t like the rest; this wasn’t a drug-drenched night of dancing and sexual decadence. Loveball was actually what the name said it was, a ball of love. Of course I was a bit confused as I never imagined or even possibly entertained the idea that love could be a gay dance party, but in the same moment I realized that of course it was a gay dance party. Love was a gay dance party, of course it was, round like a ball. As he spoke it, I understood it… it entered my being as beautiful knowledge and comprehension and I immediately knew and comprehended love. ‘I know what you expected,’ he reassured me, ‘but this isn’t like you think.’ We spent the entire night together dancing and laughing and lusciously kissing. Afterwards we went to the Loveball sponsored open forum discussion on the relevance of Revlon at one of BCN’s more exclusive saunas. It was riveting. The Great Ball of Love took me places I have never been and as I swam in the decadence of love, as I gyrated my body to the groove too smooth of what life was about, I knew that the days of my life that lay before me, the yet unknown days, would be defined by balls and balls of love. I want to be Loveball, to actually be the belly-up beauty, the indescribable drooling ecstasy of life that was, that is, love, Loveball, Loveball 2006.
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la gangsta granja where ‘getting whacked’ is par for the course BY
You can walk around Barcelona and feel as if you’ve just walked into a movie by Almodóvar because of the setting or simply the feel of the place, but if you want to feel like you’re in a Scorsese or John Woo flick,as any real man does, I have the perfect place for you to catch a glimpse of the gangsta life. I was meeting friends for a screening of some Asian films at the Apolo, and when they arrived we decided that a few drinks would put us in the mood for the show.Among the few possible options (Bagdad not being one), we opted for the most average and obvious place around, promising just beer and a few tapas.As the underworld doesn’t go around in flashy cars and tailor made suits, it took me a bit to realize that there was some funny activity going on. First,a group of Chinese guys were coming in and out of the bar perfectly in phase with a group of cops, moving around exactly the same areas of the bar.The third time around I realized they were playing an innocent(?) game of hide and seek like we all did when we were kids,the adult version of cops and robbers. Later came a group of Moroccan guys,all pretty well-dressed in suits and white shirts with no ties which is, of course,a sign of good taste and common sense as this piece of fabric tends to limit the blood
flow to the brain.The big guy, both in size and attitude (imagine an oversized version of Joe Pesci in Goodfellas and you’ll get a close idea) was obviously the center of activity,while all the wax-haired young guns were laughing at his jokes, glancing at the door and nodding in appreciation every time the big shot offered rounds.At this point, my friends and I were simply pleased with the show,thinking that, all in all, it was just funny to see all these guys in their pretty noticeable routines. I noticed a man who was probably the least conspicuous person in there,totally absorbed in his tapas, his drink,and his newspaper. He had a briefcase next to his stool.The poor soulwas like a perfect stranger in this town, or so it seemed.A few minutes later,an equally unnoticeable character proved me wrong by entering the bar and sitting next to our first fellow.They drank down a caña each without exchanging a word,and our first guy left, leaving the briefcase behind. Our second Mr. Nobody spent a few more minutes there with his caña,and then left with the briefcase,as if it were the most normal thing in the world.After all, getting people wacked or charging businesses for protection is also a normal thing; it all depends on what side of the line you’re standing.
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Indisputably, BCN is of the 24/7 type cities — busy and buzzing at any time of day, blue Sundays and nasty Mondays included. But August is different. The locals have packed up and fled the city as if it were a sinking ship. Company, restaurant and shop windows show hurriedly scribbled signs: Tancat until 31/08. But those who leave do not only miss out on the biggest, loudest and most famous Fiestas Mayores of the city — Gràcia’s (15/08-21/08) and Sants’ (20/08-26/08) — but also on those slow and sticky-sweet August nights that make you feel and fall in love. It’s peligroso: If you stay now you’ll want to stay forever.
friday/// aug 18
sunday /// aug 20
Parks are few in BCN but those with patches of lawn big enough to lie on are extremely rare specimens. The Parc de la Ciutadella is one of them. It’s an oasis in the stony city desert. If you miss the smell of freshly cut green grass, come here in the mornings and hum along to the sound of the lawn mower whilst sticking your nose into the moist green. On Friday and Wednesday nights until September 1st you can hum along to jazz music instead when some lesser known trios and quartets play at the little pavilion close to the lake. They start at 22:00h. Listening is fee-free. Beer can be bought from a chiringuito near by. On the other side of town, in the streets of Gràcia, the party is well under way. Since Tuesday the entire barrio has been one big fiesta. It’s perfect for concert hopping. Lots of bands are playing in the squares and bigger streets. Their names will tell you little if you haven’t read the Who-is-Who guide to the local music scene. Or do you already know of the alternative rock bands Who’s There and Stendhal who’re playing at 19:00h at C/Bruniquer? Have you heard of Leonor Zayas and Caribe Son who’ll be playing Latin rhythms at C/ Joan Blanques (between C/ Encarnació and Congost) at 23:30h? If not, just keep your ears open and wander through the streets. Should you like the type of band that usually plays at Heliogàbal you should turn towards Plaça Rovira where they’ve set up the Festigàbal stage.
It’s Fi de Festa in Gracia and bonfires will be lit at the Plaça Rius i Taulet at 24:00h — a romantic backdrop for that last can of Estrella for the weekend? In Sants the party is just beginning with an inauguration ball and music from the Orquestra Aquàrium at C/ Robrenyo at 23:00h. But concerts abound at around the same time in other streets: check out C/D’Alcolea de Baix, C/Canalejas, Plaça de la Farga, C/Finlàndia, C/Galileu, C/Guadiana, C/Rosés and C/Valladolid. And don’t forget the discomòbils at C/D’Alcolea de Dalt (with a foam party) and at C/Vallespir. Per molts Sants, sempre!
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saturday /// aug 19 Summer of Funk is the motto at Dos Trece tonight: it’s Jazz, Afro, Hip Hop and Reggae mixed by DJ Roger (entrance free). Total Oriental could be the motto of the Serendib-Café: shihas, incense and dancer Amira Maat moving to Oriental rythms (20:30h, entrance free). Kind of Everything should be the motto at La Paloma where Florent from the band Los Planetas plays a mix of Pop, Electro, Rock, Techno and Minimal followed by DJ Maadraasso’s Electro plus Pop combo (0:00h, 8¤). However the real thing is taking place in Gràcia: The best domino players in town come together at Placeta Sant Miquel in the afternoon to fight for the title of domino champion. Botifarradas and lots of Vermut to follow. Rumba, Reggae and Rock ’n Roll around the clock and corner. Check out Plaça del Sol at around 22:00h where Sabor de Gràcia, Patriarcas de la Rumba, and DJ Misto are playing. DOS TRECE @ CARME 40 // SERENDIB CAFÉ @ MONTURIAL 62 // LA PALOMA @ TIGRE 27
monday /// aug 21 Iguapop is one of the few galleries that dares to open a new exhibition even though it’s August (from 10/08 to 09/10). It’s a summer group show with artists who may have exhibited in Barcelona before but who are worth a second viewing anyway: Monika Aichele, Mike Swaney, Nerea Pozo, Lolo + Sosaku, Emotive Project and San. The gallery is open until 21:00h every day except Sundays. IGUAPOP @ COMERÇ 15
tuesday /// aug 22 Ready for a “feel good – do good” session at La Paloma? It’s time again for Solidarity Yoga at the famous club. You’ll need to pay 4¤ (which includes some water) to join the crowd following the movements of the on-stage Yoga teacher. Starts at 20:00. A visit to the Meliès cinemas might also be relaxing yet educational at the same time: Metropolis by Fritz Lang, Bladerunner by Ridley Scott and Crash by David Cronenberg are just some of the classics showing everyday at 16:00h from 18.08 to 24.08. LA PALOMA @ TIGRE 27 // MÉLIÈS CINEMES @ VILLARROEL 102
wednesday /// aug 23 It’s going down at the Caixa Forum today: Angola-Brazilian fusion played by Paulinho Lêmos and Zé Manel from 20:30h to 21:15h followed by Ölelés, an award-winning contemporary dance show directed by Jordi Cortés y Damián Muñoz from 21:30h to 24:00h (4 Euros) and before, after or instead Fibla (Spa.rk) (22:00h) and Knal+Imasaka (23:00h) peresent their audio and audio-visual art. CAIXA FORUM @ AV. MARQUÈS DE COMILLAS 6-8
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R E S TAU R A N T JA P O N É S
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Okay — so maybe it isn’t the most hidden Japanese place in the city but the fun factor overrides the locale. It is true that not all rotating things are fun but sushi on a rotating belt is — especially when it’s unlimited and really good. You will be tempted to try everything as it passes before you but be selective or you will be so full of shiny noodles that you won’t have any space for the better selections. Make a b-line for the pink and yellow california rolls with banana in the middle. There is also a wide variety of sashimi, shrimp, pulpo, seaweed, chicken skewers, rice, and other shiny unidentifiable things that won’t kill you. 13.60¤ might seem like a lot but you could conceivably sit there all night until it is physically impossible to see one more rotating bowl of cucumbers.
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CALEXICO T O R R E N T D E L’ O L L A , 1 4 1
At first glance you might mistake Calexico for a boys room at Uni - foosball, pool tables, and a wide musical selection of early 90’s Grunge. The thing that sets Calexico apart from the rest is their music selection. The tables are covered with concert tickets from years gone by - all of which were attended by the owners, who happen to be brothers. Ranging from ZZ Top to The Cult and back to Julian Cope the wide range of tickets are reflective of the music on hand. Maybe you don’t think there’s anything special about being able to drink a beer for 2.50¤ while listening to the Sugarcubes or Alice in Chains but then maybe you should find another place to pass your time.
ORGANIC J U N TA D E C O M E R Ç , 1 1
TEL. 93 301 09 02
Organic is the only place we have found where you can lie in a hammock, get a massage, and eat food that will actually benefit your health in some way. Lunchtime at 11 Junta de Commerç is the best time pop by. Don’t be thrown off by the ying-yangy mural thing — the food is fantastic and a staple spot for resident vegetarians to get their green on. Lunch has a few options: if you want the full blown menu that will cost you 9¤. Not bad considering that comes
with as much salad as you can stomach, one serving of soup, bread, and a plate of which there are several to choose from daily and dessert. If you just want salad it´s 7¤ but the fresh variety of veggies, seeds, roasted potatoes, and pesto is more than enough to fill you up. Just the plate is 5¤, soup is 2.50¤ and pizza is 8¤. After you are full of roughage waddle your way to the back where you can admire the Organic bike and lounge on the giant sofa. BAR
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Everything says that ethically speaking OpenCor sucks. It is the kind of place that takes business away from smaller shops, and it is owned by the evil El Corte Inglés empire. BUT — it is open 365 days a year, 18 hours a day AND you never know at what moment in the day you are going to feel the extreme need to purchase Nestle Brownie Batter and batteries simultaneously. Although it is impossible to list everything that makes it worth the stroll through OpenCor at ungodly
hours, some of the highlights are: cooked ham in a can (known as Spam in some parts of the world), rotisserie chicken in a bag, Oscar Mayer Jumbo Classics (only 1.85¤!), Ben & Jerry's (6.30¤/pint), cat food, hairdryers, and birthday cards. A clear patent law suit waiting to happen the McSalad Americana is 55% mayo and you don't want to know what else. It is also a great place to pick up the new Bratz Boyz (urban dolls in case you didn't know), which are 25% off this week.
The rumor that Poble Sec is on the up and up is confirmed by the recent addition of Cabart to the barrio. The former owners of Raval’s Merry Ant have headed for the hills and they have a very good thing going on. Every night Oliver selects the best in punk, rock, and funk (inclusive of his own little ensemble). It has that red cave burlesque feel along with the random doll’s leg, street lamp and vintage TV. Check out their website starting in the fall when they will be doing more community theatre events, www.myspace.com/cabart. In the meantime it’s a great little watering hole in the dry village to enjoy what is arguably one of the best mojitos this side of the Llobregat.
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thursday /// aug 24
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After eight, the MACBA opens its airconditioned spaces to the public for only three Euros and until 24:00h. Georg Brecht’s art, vinyl covers, and Peter Friedel’s works are all on display and should be viewed in that order: George Brecht comes first. His work not only marks the beginning of conceptual art but also communicates Brecht’s fantastic sense of humor. If you’re smart, it’ll make you laugh. Upstairs at the vinyl exhibition, special attention should be paid to the audio section where you can listen to all the records on display. Closing your eyes helps you to focus on the music and to ignore the growing queue as you skim through the 250+ albums. At Gandules, the open-air cinema in the courtyard of the CCCB, Gimme Shelter (1970) plays at 22:00h (free). It’s a documentary by Albert and David Maysles about the infamous Rolling Stones tour of ’69 and the concert in Almont where a Hell’s Angel killed Marty Balin. MACBA @ PLAÇA ANGEL 1 // CCCB @ MONTALEGRE 5
friday /// aug 25
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SIFÓ @ ESPALTER 4 // RAZZ @ ALMOGAVERS 122 // LA PALOMA @ TIGRE 27
saturday /// aug 26
MON 4PM TO 8:30PM TUES - SAT 10:30AM TO 8:30PM
It’s not a bad day for a serious night out. At Sifó the music begins at 23:00h under the motto Noche Freestyle. At Razz Club the young, very English and kinda-like-The-Smiths group The Boyfriends start their gig at 1:00h (15 Euros at the door). And at La Paloma Alex from Chicks on Speed presents her favorite music as well as some songs from underground Australian bands (8¤, at the door only) at 24:00h. And of course there is the Fiesta Mayor de Sants for those who enjoy local music a la fresca (see Sunday August 20 for locations).
It’s the last day of the Fiesta Mayor de Sants and hence the last chance to enjoy a walk along the decorated streets, to eat and drink the Catalan way and to listen to some local bands. The fiesta begins at around 13:00h and the concerts start around 23:00h. As most of the theatres in town are closed, fans of the non-televised don’t have much choice at the moment. But the Teatre Romea might not be a bad one. They’ve translated Fellini’s La Strada into theatrical language. Runs today (for the last time) at 21:00h (14 –20¤). Party people who got kicked off the beach by the Mossos but don’t like the Baja Beach Club and can’t deal
with the crowd at the Port Olímpic will find lots of loud music, fast beats and happily smiling folks at Apolo where Luke Slater and DJ FRA play from 00:30h (entrance 15¤). TEATRE ROMEA @ HOSPITAL 51 // APOLO @ NOU DE LA RAMBLA 113
sunday /// aug 27 If you’re feeling the Sunday blues, that slightly melancholic mood bordering on sadness, and you want to enjoy it and maybe blow it up into a full-grown depression, go listen to singer-songerwriter Peter Thomson from Northumberland at 22:00h at Heliogàbal (free). “Long as long can be“ or “A date with my maker” enjoyed whilst sitting with a drink at the bar will transport you directly into a very, very sad Hollywood film. Only a real man won’t cry. The scenery can be aided by a read through Thomson’s bio— again, film material —which can be found at www.cutlassrecords.com. It’s beautifully written, it’s true, it’s tragic, it’s brave. If you have the guts, walk up to Peter and ask him how it ends. HELIOGÀBAL @ RAMÓN I CAJAL 80
monday/// aug 28 Feel good movie. Humorous. German. Mainly for people sin polla or those who’d like to watch a beautiful German girl in action (not that kind of action!): Verano en Berlín by Andreas Dresen. 20:25h at Renoir Floridablanca. RENOIR FLORIDABLANCA @ FLORIDABLANCA 135
tuesday/// aug 29 Sleep. Not because it’s hot or the weekend was great fun paired with lots of booze and long nights but because sleeping burns more fat than watching TV. There’s nothing going on on Tuesdays anyway.
wednesday /// aug 30 Don’t be irritated by the name ‘The Tokyo Ska Paradise Orchestra’. It’s probably just a bad translation from Japanese into English. The Tokyo and the Ska bit are true however. And if 10 people are enough to make an orchestra, the orchestra bit is true, too. Concerning the paradise — well, it could be the mix of ska rythms paired with jazzy improvisations sprinkled with a hint of dub and served with a great show on stage. For more details see Apolo at 21:30h. Entrance costs 15¤ at the door. APOLO @ NOU DE LA RAMBLA 113
reviews cuz we don’t do pre-views CD
R E S TAU R A N T
get your ‘crossover’ dancing shoes on
close encounters of the glutonous kind
WHOLE NEW PEACE /// JAM X /// VENTILADOR MUSIC 2006 BY
PIGGING OUT AT OVNI RESTAURANT
Spain’s music scene has been enriched by a new band. They call themselves JAM X and when you put on the disc you’ll hardly believe that it’s the product of only three musicians. Leox, Cherry Joy, and Dr. Concha have managed to produce the rich sound of a big group with brass, guitars, drums, percussion, keyboards, and vocals. The perfect fusion of live instruments with electronics and sampled sounds is one of the strongest points of the CD, apart from the music itself. Are you planning to throw a big party and one of those people who are convinced that a ‘fiesta’ is only successful if you get your friends to dance, preferably before 5 o’ clock in the morning when everyone’s drunk and nothing really matters? Well, get this CD! You’ll hear a wonderful crossover of funk, hip-hop, Salsa, and Brazilian music along with James Brown-style grooves. And at just the right moment, when you start to tire of la marcha, when you begin longing for a quiet song which would give you an excuse to pull that girl that
you’ve been exchanging glances with onto the dance floor, there’s a quiet song which is probably one of the most musically experimental tracks on the CD. The lyrics — some in English, some in Spanish — speak about everyday realities, imaginations and of course a ‘whole new peace’. All songs are written and arranged by Leox, the bandleader who gets a ‘five star, excellent’ stamp for his wonderful compositions, it’s just a pity that they weren’t more careful with the intonation on the vocals. I guess I can forgive them for that once the party is on. I got the chance to hear them live during their CD presentation at the C3 Bar on the 15th of July. Cherry Joy’s presence on stage stands in for a whole orchestra of musicians! Her body movements make the music visible and she knows how to connect with the audience. Also, I heard some really musical, virtuous, and imaginative percussion solos by Dr. Concha. Leox proved his flexibility by not only singing the lead vocals, but also picking up the guitar.
oh keanu,you’re just like the wind.
M OV I E S
the hollywood guide to a safe summer BY
Cramps and skin cancer are not the only threatening clouds when you’re about to hit the beach. Please be so kind and let these classic movies work as a reminder: not everything is fun under the sun…
“The Beach”,“Lord of the flies” Plot A group of optimistic people ends up on a virgin island. Very soon optimism is abandoned for megalomania as everyone tries to gain power over their fellow castaways by beating them up with rocks, sticks or threatening them with guns. Moral Under his sophisticated surface, man is nothing more than an evil savage. Too much nature and we tend to relapse into old caveman habits. If you plan on ending up on a desert island during the holidays, be sure to end up there alone. If you need company you can always bring a volleyball as Tom Hanks did in “Castaway”. That worked out fine.
“jaws”,“deep blue sea” Plot Ridiculously large shark with superior intelligence kills everyone who
is stupid enough not to believe in him. Moral Be humble towards nature and the unknown. It’s all about being open-minded. If somebody says that a hyper-intelligent mutated giant shark lives in a lake nearby, it’s probably true. If you’re a cynic or a smart aleck, the shark will miraculously find out, get pissed off, and sooner or later (usually sooner) he will punish you for your lack of imagination.
“point break” Plot The lead character goes to the beach to surf and to meet nice people. But he (or she) soon finds out that surfers are bullies and criminals. Moral Since films reflect contemporary times we must assume that the surf climate is getting more hardcore. The jolly beach movies from the sixties, with funny names like “How to Stuff a Wild Bikini” and “ Beach Blanket Bingo”, are far from the surf reality of today. Surfers seem to have gone from rebellion to criminality and from mocking to bullying. A lonely surfer wannabe on the beach is an easy target for these guys.
OVNI is one of several brands of buffet style restaurants that you’ll find in town that aims to fill your every need and just may be the best cure for a wicked hangover. There is a 9.20¤ nightly (19-24h) and weekend menu, or a 7.60¤ daytime menu (13-19h) that provides a wide array of food. The salad bar is the highlight of the OVNI experience offering fresh fare and a wide selection of veggies. Moving on to the main courses, you can select pizza, pasta, chicken, and the “meat of the day.” The pasta is standard fare with a variety of sauces, but nothing terribly special. The pizza can be good depending on whether or not it is fresh out of the oven. Although I must say that on my most recent trip to OVNI I thought to myself that perhaps someone should let the chef know that blue cheese and pineapple is not generally the best combination on a pizza. The “meat of the day” may sound sketchy but on occasion you can luck out with sautéed shrimp, at other times you might get a mystery meat enchilada. It is just the luck of the draw. Desserts include ice cream and fruit. You can also get a great cup of coffee or espresso after your meal. Beverages include beer, soda, and fresh juice. OVNI is a great pick for vegetarians or even vegans and a place where all of your picky friends can find something decent to eat. A few other bonuses related to OVNI: You have free Internet access on their computers, which can be a great bonus to travelers. There is a nonsmoking area that is relatively smoke-free. For people with kids there is a reduced price of 6¤ to bring in your young one. You can also get a variety of take out boxes. Prices depend on what you are taking out. OVNI may not be 4 star dining, but if you want something easy and filling nothing beats it. Stop by OVNI’s two different locations on Via Layetana 32 or Ronda Sant Antoni 11 to try it out for yourself. BCN
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With these ingredients, how can a gig fail? The Grec Festival has found a strong place on the European stage in the production and creation of music, theatre and dance. The venue, the Teatre Grec, reflects the typical structure of the ancient Greek theatres…it’s an amazing place to watch any creative performance. The artist, Marcelo D2, is a hugely respected and talented Brazilian rapper appearing with his band who are gifted enough to traverse genres such as samba, hip-hop and rock while enjoying their own fun and exciting style. Having worked with leaders in the world of rap such as the Beastie Boys and appearing on the samba king Sergio Mendes’ album “Timeless”, his mixing of genres proves brave and Marcelo D2 has obviously succeeded as his audience testifies, dancing and chanting as if he were a god. With four albums behind him, his first “Eu Tiro É Onda” selling over 100,000 copies, Marcelo D2 does not want for a following.
The range of instruments is the perfect formula for Marcelo D2’s frenetic rhythms. At times the edges are softened by the percussion and keyboard solos, then brought back up with a rock kick by the talented guitarists. The diversity sets the crowd off. Treated to some typical Brazilian dancing there is no forgetting the band’s origins. The mood is one of devotion and passion, with the band’s chemistry igniting a unique energy. The seats of the theatre are abandoned and when certain classics such as “Samba Fundo de Quintal” are performed the atmosphere becomes explosive. The simple coloured lighting and the romantic ambience of the Teatre Grec truly contribute to the magic of the gig. With each of the ten band members possessing such skill, from Fernando Pereira’s exceptional human beat box to Alisson Ramos’ sexy moves, voice, and percussion, this really was an unforgettable show.
booze,bitches and binging WOMEN /// CHARLES BUKOSWSKI thevitaltouch.qxd
WE ARE SEEKING
DISTRIBS IF YOU THINK YOU’VE ARE IT TELL US WHY YOU THINK WOULD BE THE BEST PAPER DISTRIBUTOR THIS SIDE OF THE PYRENEES (ALONG WITH YOUR CV OF COURSE)
‘THE RIGHT SORT OF PRESSURE AT WORK’ PRESENDT THIS AT AND GE
OFF 10E% FIRST VISIT TH
Page 2 What’s this fuss about a good-fornothing alcoholic with a beer gut as huge as a watermelon? Why write hundreds of pages about a ruined life that’s not even worth a dime,anyway? Why would anyone want to read pages filled with pathetic lowlife scenes and trashy characters talking nothing but bullshit? Well it’s because it’s different; these are books packed with the memoirs of the genius Charles Bukowski.When this dirty old man takes a pen into his hands,the amount of whisky he rolls down starts leaking from his pen as ink.This is the very first time we can sympathize so with white trash — only high literature could achieve such a phenomenon, no doubt about it. His autobiographicalworks show you how he got acquainted with the pleasures of peeping into the panties of little Lolitas in elementary school,and how he tried working as a ridiculously sloppy postman while crawling slowly towards fame as a writer after so many
rejections and failures. His novel of 1978,Women, stands in the middle of his oeuvre in which his semiautobiographical alter ego, Henry Chinaski, is already an acknowledged, full-time author.This means one thing for sure: he can get all the women he wants,whenever he wants them.And let that be any kind of woman… no matter how drunk, how elegant, how young or old they might be, Chinaski is right on top when it comes to coital joys — he remains the same sensitive artist in all the ladies’ eyes even after a hardcore bang scene without any mush. Seems like the only thing that keeps him going is good ole alcohol, but hold on! He couldn’t possibly have laid this horrid amount of women (around a hundred mentioned), could he? Although facts and fiction seem to bury each other under the pages of Women,the essence is not necessarily on the surface: even the snooty reader will notice the witty wisdom scattered everywhere that just can’t help bursting out of Chinaski-Bukowski.
‘la vida te espera’
DISTRIBUTION@BCNWEEK.COM luparabar.qxd 6/6/06 21:57 Page 1
CUTUP /// NIU GALLERY /// UNTIL AUG 16
We specialize in Caffe Italiano, Breakfast, Juices, Teas, Cakes, Cookies, Tapas, Argentinean Empanadas, Vegetarian Dishes
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Maybe I’m getting old, but street art is all beginning to look the same to me. New cute-but-edgy characters breed and spread incessantly across the city’s walls, created by people with names like ‘Mr. Pastry’ or ’Doorknob Man’. It’s the visual equivalent of ‘music’s all just boom boom boom nowadays’ to my jaded eyes. Against this backdrop, the CutUp Collective has a refreshingly clutterneutral philosophy. Dubbed ‘one of the most innovative street art groups in the world’ by street art overlords the Wooster Collective, they believe that in order to challenge media you have to use that media itself, so they only use material that is on the street already: removing, cutting-up, reordering and then reposting existing billboards to create stunning new images. They see this process as ‘moving the pieces around like a giant puzzle’, a reinvention according to their rules.
For the last three weeks the NIU Gallery has been CutUp’s lab. The space is filled with the crate-like CutUp Cinema that shows well-produced films of the work being created; also sharing the space are lightboxes displaying a selection of artfully scrambled bus-stop adverts. The work then bleeds out onto the street with images made from pixel-like holes drilled in wood panels covering the windows; the image itself made visible by the light escaping from within the gallery. They have also constructed two full-scale billboard pieces in the area. These really arrest you — their subtly reordered images stand out against the messy urban backdrop more effectively than the original ads themselves. CutUp’s work is special because it reclaims sites which have, through commercial power, been given undue prominence in our day-to-day urban environment.
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Top 5 CDs of the Month
Hostal Santa Anna The friendly family-owned Hostal Santa Anna is practically on Las Ramblas. The quiet, clean and well maintained hostel has 18 simple rooms with views of the street or interior. For reservations, visit www.barcelona30.com.
BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE BLACK HORSE
1_ iLIKETRAins — progress reform
Poble Nou Beach Rooms
2_ Madrugada — nightly disease 3_ motor —klunk 4_ hot chip — the warning 5_ black cab — altamont diary
Poble Nou Beach Rooms is a cosy place with lots of natural light in (where else) Poble Nou. A Barcelona classic, the apartment has original ceramic tiled floors. There are 3 bedrooms, each sleeping 2-3 perons. For short-term rentals, visit www.barcelona30.com.
Crayon Box Apartment 3.1 The Crayon Box Apartment 3.1 is the beach lovers dream, a 40m2 recently renovated apartment right on the beach, sleeping up to 6 persons. For short-term rentals, visit www.barcelona30.com.
FOR SALE BOAT LIVING Can’t afford an apartment? Buy my boat and live on it in Torredembarra marina or move to Barcelona. Includes full domestic equipment. 49,000¤.contact: email@example.com
POPPY NEEDS A HOME Old bike with a lot of character seeks new owner, gets you from A to B if not with a few rattles and squeeks. 30¤ only. contact: firstname.lastname@example.org
FOR RENT quiet apartment Private Apartment — studio, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom — up to 3 persons. Raval — quiet, air conditioning. ZSR-BA@yahoo.de
APARTMENT TO RENT IN IBIZA. 5 km to the city, in the countryside, apartment capacity 4 people. Private garden and swmingpool. Car necesary. rainbowinspain.com or email@example.com
GAY AND GAYFRIENDLY ACCOMMODATION IN MAIN GAY DESTINATIONS IN SPAIN. Hotels and hostels in Barcelona, Madrid, Ibiza, Sitges, Gran Canaria, Tenerife. rainbowinspain.com or firstname.lastname@example.org.
BARCELONETA Very nice IKEA renovated 1 bedroom apartment next to the market and subway. Tons of light. 700 ¤. Rafa 616 560 299.
sunny room Room for rent (Urquinaona) Nice bright, fully furnished room, exterior in a comfortable flat, situated in the center. Only 2 minutes from the Metro L1 y L4. 280¤/month all bills included. email@example.com
Hostal Els Angels Small, cosy, 1-star, 10-rooms hostel with a familiar atmosphere located in L’Eixample district, 10 minutes on foot from Rambla Catalunya. The rooms are basic, well-lit and sunny, with kitchen access; some have a balcony overlooking the street, and others overlook the large courtyard. 24 hr reception and laundry service for 5¤. For reservations, visit www.barcelona30.com.
Hostal Fina A basic 2 star hostel located in the very heart of the historical centre of Barcelona, at Portaferrissa, the most commercial street in the city. The hostel offers basic, clean, well conditioned rooms, where you will be able to relax and rest, as most of them are interior and very quiet. For reservations, visit www.barcelona30.com.
Hostal Plaza This picturesque, 2-star, 20-room hostel is located between Passeig de Gràcia, Pl. Urquinaona and Pl. Catalunya, in the 1st floor of a modernist building. In the 1st floor, the hostel offers common areas, such as a bar serving drinks and breakfasts with plasma television, and a lounge with sofas and a quieter atmosphere inviting to read and relax. In addition, here is an Internet service for the clients. For reservations, visit www.barcelona30.com.
Hotel Travessera The Hotel Travessera 2 star hotel located right next to Gaudí’s lovely Parc Guell. Hotel Travessera has been recently refurbished and has 23 well-equipped rooms with en suite bathrooms, air conditioning, heating and TV. A good value, for reservations, visit www.barcelona30.com.
Hostal Las Flores The Hostal Las Flores is a cosy family-run hostel located right on Las Ramblas. This quaint 1 star hostel is an economical choice, with 22
rooms on 4 floors. Almost all have access to a shared bathroom, except one double room which includes a private en suite bathroom and has a view of Las Ramblas. For reservations, visit www.barcelona30.com.
Hotel Nuevo Triunfo Great value for money, modern 2-star hotel (opened in 2001), located close to Avenida Paral.lel, a bustling avenue just10 minutes’ walk from Las Ramblas and the historic old town. Its 40 comfortable rooms are fully equipped with ensuite bathrooms, air conditioning, satellite TV and telephone. The hotel also has complementary Internet service for guests and offers breakfast at a reasonable price. For reservations, visit www.barcelona30.com.
Apartamento de la Paz The spacious 100m2 Apartamento La Paz has a 30m balcony stretching around the building and looks out over Las Ramblas and Port Vell. The apartamento can sleep up to 6 people, and is located on the first floor (no lift access) with lots of natural light. There are 3 double rooms, 1 with 2 single beds, 2 rooms with 1 double bed each. For holiday rentals, visit www.barcelona30.com.
Hostal Ballestero A modest, well-maintained, 2-stars hostel of 26 rooms located near Meridiana Avenue, on the corner of Fabra i Puig Avenue, close to the commercial centre of Heron City. The hostel is situated in a 5-floor building with lift. Not especially charming, but it does offer clean, well-maintained rooms. For reservations, visit www.barcelona30.com.
BARCO Paula I Have an original experience on the Paula I sailboat (not a houseboat), or as we like to call it the “floating apartment,” located in the Port Vell. The boat can sleep up to 6 people, with 3 cabins with double beds. Watch the curious smiles of your friends when you tell them you’ve stayed on a 40 foot sailboat (not for sailing). Not many people will be able to say they spent their Barcelona vacation on a luxury boat! For short-term rentals, visit www.barcelona30.com.
Crayon Box Apartment 2.1 The Crayon Box Apartment 2.1 is a 40m2 private apartment located on the beachfront of Barceloneta. This newly renovated apartment can sleep up to 4 people in 2 double rooms, one with a large double bed and another with bunk beds. A sofa bed sleeps one more, which is located in the living/dining room which also has a TV and balcony. The kitchen has all the amenities and there is also a full bathroom. The apartment is equipped with heating and air conditioning. For reservations, visit www.barcelona30.com.
Hostal Boquería The Hostal Boqueria is a newly renovated hostel right on Las Ramblas, opposite the lively atmosphere of the Boquería. 15 neat and tidy rooms with TV, air conditioning, heating and private bathrooms, this is a fairly standard hostel: 2 single beds and a sink in the room. Good value accommodation right in the centre of Barcelona. For reservations, visit www.barcelona30.com.
Hostal Barcelona Ramblas The Hostal Barcelona Ramblas is a brand new and clean hostel located in Nou de La Rambla. The hostel’s 32 rooms are equipped with heating and fans for your comfort. You’ll feel right at home with a TV featuring international channels. The staff at reception are helpful and friendly and speak English, French, German and Italian. For reservations, visit www.barcelona30.com.
Hostal Ciudad Condal
goyles from the building in front, not something you wake up to every day. AC. For holiday rentals, visit www.barcelona30.com.
Levante Apartament M1 A recently renovated, 95m2 apartment with an excellent location, which can accommodate 4-8 persons. Located in the heart of the historic Barri Gòtic, it is a basic, cosy apartment, decorated with classical style wood furniture. It offers 3 bedrooms: one with 3 individual beds, one with a double bed, and the third with 2 individual beds. For short-term rentals, visit www.barcelona30.com.
Short-term rental in a double room for 1 or 2 persons with en suite private bathroom and TV in gorgeous shared apartment. apartment is right by Arc de Triomf metro station (line 1) and Renfe regional train station. Visit www.barcelona30.com.
Apartamento Picasso 32 Up to 5 of you can stay in the 50 m2 Picasso 32 Apartment smack in the middle of the historic and yet trendy district of Born. It has two bedrooms, one with a single bed and the other with two singles. The living/dining room has a TV and 2 sofas, one a sofa bed which sleeps two. The kitchen is fully-equipped, as is the bathroom. A small balcony gives a good photo-op of the gar-
I would like to get a — colour or black and white — TV donated for my room for the coming Winter to keep updated with the domestic and world news. Has someone got a spare one? I feel like in a shell when I learn the daily news. I would be very thankful. firstname.lastname@example.org
The Déjà vu is a gorgeous 36 foot (11 metres) cruising yacht moored in the marina Port Vell. A Jeanneau Oceanis 36cc, it was built in 2003 and waves the French flag. Outfitted in cherry wood, the boat is equipped with modern comforts, such as satellite TV, kitchen, full bathroom, towels and bed linens, and even slippers in case your feet get cold. Sleeps up to 4. For reservations, visit www.barcelona30.com.
A private, welcoming apartment with daily cleaning service and towel/linen change located inside a 1-star hotel, next to Hospital Sant Pau. Sleeps up to 3 persons. For short-term rentals, visit www.barcelona30.com.
BARCO Déjà vu Oceanis 36cc
Any type can be interesting. If it’s old and not damaged — perfect. If it’s a bit more modern, ok! But don’t want to pay more than 100¤. email@example.com
Great-value, 21-room hostel located on Rambla Catalunya, one of the nicest streets in the city, right in the heart of Modernist Eixample. All the rooms in this central, clean hostel have ensuite bathrooms, air conditioning, and TV. For reservations, visit www.barcelona30.com.
A modest hostel placed in an old building with a beautiful entrance door, in the popular Gràcia district, an area full of live with a special charm, which still keeps its village atmosphere. It is located a 15 minutes walk to the famous Parc Güell and Passeig de Gràcia. The hostel offers simple, clean rooms; but do not expect a design decoration. However, all of them are equipped with a complete bathroom, and TV. There are double rooms with 1 double bed or 2 individual beds, and triple rooms, which are more spacious. For reservations, visit www.barcelona30.com.
Hostal Rembrandt is a clean, wellrun 28 room hostel in an unbeatable location on Portaferrisa. Can you ask for a more central location? visit www.barcelona30.com for reservations.
Arc de Triomf Room
Hotel Climent The 1 star Hotel Climent is located on the Gran Via in a 7 storey building with 5 rooms on each floor. The rooms are neat and clean, with minimal decor. They have an en suite bathroom, heating, TV and telephone. All rooms are exterior, with natural light, and are sufficiently soundproofed with windows with double paned glass to guarantee a good night’s sleep. The hotel is well-maintained and is wheelchair accessible. Breakfast included. For reservations, visit www.barcelona30.com.
Pension Cortes Pension Cortes is a basic, clean hostel located in beautiful old building on Gran Via. Rooms are clean and cosy with single beds. Although the rooms overlook the street, it is relatively insulated from street noise. Metro station Urgell. For reservations, visit www.barcelona30.com.
WANTED DIVE Young and creative couple- her photographer, him artist looking for a cheap dive to live in. central barcelona or gracia. unite against middlemen! murray 600 706 442
American English teacher looking for private students starting in July. 12¤/hour. Adaptable, responsible, creative. Serious inquiries only. firstname.lastname@example.org
Looking for, or to start a playgroup for children in Diagonal Mar/Villa Olimpica area. English, Russian, and Spanish speaking. Interested email: email@example.com.
AND SERVICES VAN AND DRIVER FOR REMOVALS AND CARGO TRANSPORTATION Inexpensive, safe and flexible. Any day, any time. Barcelona / Catalunya. 647533344 / 933291363 www.vanbcn.com
MASSAGE EXCHANGE Seeking to start a small group of people doing bodywork at any level and willing to exchange sessions for the joy of it. I do Hawaian Lomi Lomi, Ayurvedic Yoga, Reiki and Metamorphic massage. firstname.lastname@example.org
tarot reader TAROT ,international clairvoyant... DAVID. clairvoyant, tarot cards, psychic, crystal ball, palm readings,david has the true gift of reading your future, and is renowned world wide, 35 years experiance, private sittings 1 to 1, love, health, work, money, life’s decisions etc phone David at 678378802
FOOTBALL LEAGUE New 11-a-side football team starting in the Barcelona International League. Interested in playing each Saturday? All nationalities welcome. Email email@example.com
I SAW YOU Did u see someone you like? Need to get a message across? Too shy to say it to their face? Then BCN WEEK’s ‘I SAW YOU’ is for you! Be sure to tell us who you are (man/woman) who/ what you saw (man/woman/badly parked car... etc) when? where? why? email or contact detail required. KOREAN BABE Cute Korean girl on Air France flight AF1149 arriving from Paris last Tues. You pushed in line for the internet check-in bag drop-off. I angrily barked at you but your smile made my anger fade. Please forgive me. I am but a stressed out Parisian in search of a more relaxed life.
WATER HEAVY I saw you struggling to carry 3, 8 liter bottles of water down C/ Escudellers. You were wearing a white linen dress and were soaked in sweat from the midday heat. I helped you carry two of the bottles to your door. I gave you my number but you still haven't called. I'd like to hear from you. Joshua.
SUDOKU SOLUTION I saw you perplexed with a Sudoku book in my Cafe. I explained the rules to you and together we cracked one. Not everything in life need be such a puzzle. Would like to go out for a drink sometime. Pop by again so we can arrange a date.
Erica is wearing our new Micro-Mesh Bodysuit, now available online and at our stores. We promise to come to Barcelona soon and open a store there. In the meantime weâ€™re offering BCN Week readers free shipping when you shop online until September 30th. Just enter the following promo code when you get to checkout: BCN2006. To learn more about our company, to shop online, and to find all store locations, visit our web site.
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