March 26, 2012

SIGHTSEEING: Rock Out in Barcelona Bars

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At 1:30 a.m. in Collegetown, you are likely doing one of three things: Buying a slice (or three) from CTP, buying something shameful from the hot dog stand or lying passed out on your bed with some regretful food item beside you. At 1:30 a.m. in Barcelona however, you are finishing up a round at a bar and getting ready to make moves to a club. You will not be passed out next to a regretful food purchase until 4, 5 or 6 in the morning.

While a lot of the clubs in Barcelona are similar to each other, (but amazing, nonetheless) the bars each host unique charm. So, without further ado, here’s a brief review of a few of my favorites:


Hello, Level B. The smallest drink this place boasts is two liters, which is humble compared to their 13-liter badboy. We are not talking fishbowls, party people. These are fish tanks. Order a vodka lemonade of whatever quantity and expect to be amply pleased, and by vodka lemonade I mean VODKA … and I think, maybe, I can taste a little lemonade? Somewhere?


For those who have repressed memories of high school Spanish, this word means “shots.” Lots and lots of shots. Shot variety ranges from classic (boring) to delicious (why, yes, I’d love sprinkles!) to dangerous (you just lit that on fire…) to straight up freaky (order a “Monica Lewinsky,” you’ll see what I’m talking about). As much as I enjoy toeing the line of appropriateness, I will desist and let you google what a Monica Lewinsky entails.

Queen Vic

I will openly admit that I am biased toward this quaint little English pub because I’ve grown to know and love many of the people who work here. Regardless, this amazing place is your one-stop shop for all things weird. They make the strongest sangria around, and with a pitcher for only five euros, you should be sold immediately. Still, the Vic hosts a cornucopia of eclectic events. Awesome. Last week they held a “Tattoo and Piercing” night, which was undoubtedly followed by a “Shame and Regret” morning for a lot of people.  While I question the legality of all of this, it was a good time; this bar is nothing but good times.

Due to an imposed word limit for this blog, and the unlimited number of words I have to describe clubbing in Barcelona, I will have to stop myself at bars. I will, however, throw this out there with respect to all of the good clubs in Barcelona: It will be packed with beautiful people who have all had 17 too many, the music will be pumping through your veins and you will be sweaty. Enjoy.

Alexandra Ruby is a junior in the School of Industrial and Labor Relations. She may be reached at [email protected] . Notes from Abroad: Sightseeing appears on Tuesdays.

Original Author: Alexandra Ruby