Off Nights

by El Staff
Photos by Kelly Doyle-Mace

Beauty rest is not a concept with a lot of pull here. Consciously or unconsciously, most of us have accepted that our white-hot little bodies are going to fizzle like shooting stars any day now, and there’s nothing that Sephora can do about it. So as long as we’re letting the Sun God give it to us without protection, we might as well engage in the other activities that will turn our skin into baggy leather: smoking, drinking hard liquor, and staying out until the wee hours. Self-destruction loves company, though. We’re not weirdo cat people sitting at home drinking peach schnapps on a floral couch and cooing to our pets. In honor of all those who could never get used to staying in on a school night, this month we’re giving you five places that are always jammed on Sundays, Mondays, or Tuesdays. Weekends are, like, so last year.

Le Cucine Mandarosso

C/ Verdaguer i Callís, 4

Tucked in tight on the corner in the same block as l’Antic Teatre, this is a gem of a true Italian restaurant with none of the schlocky, red-and-white-checkered-tablecloth, Mamma-miawhatta- pizza! bullshit of other places in the city. The cool and calm reserve that emanates from the interior is a welcome reprieve from the tight corridors of Sant Pere, and the multicourse meals (take friends so you can sample all of their primi piatti) will have you staying, lounging, and talking for hours. As the geniuses in the kitchen like to keep it loose and unpredictable, there’s always an ample selection of daily specials, and on Sunday evenings, from 20:30h to 22:00h, the restaurant gets packed for Apericena. For 7€, you will find yourself enjoying a buffet libre (with a bebida incluida) that begins with leafy green salads and moves on to different pastas. If you don’t mind fighting for your food, it’s a good deal, but get there on time. The attendees are sharks.

Bar Leo

C/ Sant Carles, 34

Since Jaica fenced off its terrace with an army of Benjamina to protect its guests from the crowd of onlookers that forms around its much-sought-after outside tables, the Sunday evening party in Barceloneta has moved to Carrer Sant Carles: to Lupura, Absenta, Bar Leo and 21. If you’re looking for a place sin turistas and with cheap quintos, Leo’s living room (she works her bar from noon to late at night, seven days a week) is the place you want to be. Time stopped here decades ago; only the giant flat-screen TV indicates that we’re writing in the year 2009. Childhood photos of the dueña, Leo from Andalucía, hang next to pictures of el gran Bambino. Flamenco music blares from the jukebox, the locals clap, the quintos are ice-cold and sell at 1.15€. It is the meeting point for survivors of a Barcelona long gone - the pre-Olympic Barceloneta of fishermen, Cors and Rumba Catalana -, a Sunday evening haven.

Can-Can

C/ Carretes, 48

Taking its aesthetic cues from the beautiful original decorative tile, Can-Can’s refurbishment didn’t wipe out its old charms; it polished them up after years of nicotine damage and descuido, and combined them with the newer-old comforts of secondhand chairs and lived-in couches. The result is a homey, unpretentious, multi-era retro cubby that welcomes everyone, whether they’re looking for a 1€ Gandesa or a hot little Caipirinha. Like the decor, the clientele, though mismatched, blend seamlessly and without fuss: you’re equally likely to encounter and converse with a Brandery-hopping willowy lass or a rough-but-friendly 48-year-old hippie who offers you his joint without a second thought and apologizes for having brushed against you while trying to squeeze through the bottleneck in front of the bar. Mondays are hopping as WheelzssofSssteele DJ the dance floor up with pre-nasty, get-dirty, lowbrow underdog dance-rock-pop.

Bar Ramón

C/ Mercaders, 22

Monday. You don’t want to judge a book by its cover, but you should judge a bar by its lavabo graffiti. On the walls of this bar’s unisex closet (with toilet paper), it says, “Ketalunya – Keta Powers”, “Hier stehe ich – ich kann nicht anders”, and, “Siempre hay un principio y un final”. Let’s start at the beginning: The medianas se venden a 2€, but after five of them, the price is negotiable. Ramón is generous; we got 12% off without asking. But it’s not the cheap beer that makes a good off-night bar. It’s the décor and your fellow alcoholics. The interior design leaves nothing to be desired. A drummer boy stands next to a Mini-Tipi and a cruise ship. The walls have recently been repainted bright pink. In the corner above your head, Statler and Waldorf watch grumpily over Ramón’s “crowd” (there’s only space for 20 people). The cacophony of languages is drowned out by Mahna Mahna dubdubidubi Mahna Mahna... The night is long. This is a good start.

Raïm

C/ Progrés, 48

Ninguna expresión nace por pura casualidad. “Cubano time” significa ir al Raïm cada martes por la noche. Esta tradición se inauguró como consecuencia de varios incidentes históricos en el famoso triangulo de las Bermudas de Torrent de l’Olla con Siracusa, 50 metros con tres locales amigos y rivales: Elsa Bar, Ca la Glòria y el vencedor de la contienda, una antigua bodega fundada en 1886 que un enamorado de Barça y Cuba ha convertido en un local emblemático por solera, estética y afabilidad entre mesas. Quien vaya a la guarra se encontrará con canela en el suelo, mesas de mármol, añejos barriles, son a mansalva, excelentes mojitos y mucho cachondeo. El grupo del martes es estable y abierto a todo el público. Los más hipijos y fashion pueden desilusionarse al encontrarse con gente normal que charla, habla sin problemas con desconocidos y establece frases anuales que permanecen en la memoria del barrio. Cubano time, baby.