We started off our night by popping into a shop and buying a litre of beer for €1.50. A promising start!
We headed to a friends house and from there to another apartment where drinks were had (not quite enough though) and Kings was played- rules such as no names, no gesturing to the person whose attention you wanted, and no speaking in English, only Spanish.
At about 2 we decided to head out. We got a taxi as far as Pacha, which is supposed to be one of the more exclusive nightclubs in the city. (It's also the Bulgarian term for whore- just saying.) It cost €16 to get in and once inside, drinks were €12 and a glass of water was €9. Us ladies managed to get in for free but the lads had to pay full whack- except Alan who was barred as he was wearing a t-shirt. Once inside, the music was so-so and the place was half empty. Outside the valets were kept busy parking the Mercs and Bentleys driven by the pijos.
Case study 1: El pijo. Take note of the sweater casually swung around the shoulders. This is purely for adornment and shall never be work, for fear of creasing the wool. Also, it's 30° out. Cop on.
Take note also of the smarmy I'm-so-much-better-than-you expression and the side parting in the hair. All are crucial.
After about 10 minutes, we thought feic this and left.
We wandered the streets for a while until we got to a cute little club, Café La Palma. The music was good, the drinks were cheap, they also served ice cream and the little couches were like sitting on the floor- love it.
One of the girls was talking to a guy who claimed to be a friend of the DJ and they asked us to come to an after party. As we were outside with them watching him rolling a joint, we realised he was Charlie-Sheened off his head and was chewing the face off himself.
Turns out he didn't know the DJ at all. We gave the party a skip and did a runner.
After that we did some more wandering. At this stage Yasmin's feet had given up on my high shoes so she was wandering around the streets barefoot.
Braver woman than I am!
I honestly think we were the only people in the entire city wearing heels.
From there we headed to Gran Caiman which is a Latin American club near San Bernado. Free entry, cheap drinks, great music, South Americans.... and a female strip show. All you could ask for really.
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| Her daddy must be so proud |
While there, I got chatting to a guy who actually used the line (in Spanish):
"What are four lovely Irish girls like you doing in a Latino club like this?"
I mean, really??? Come on!
After chatting with this guy, I went back to the girls and we stood by the bar having a drink. In this time about 4 men, all old enough to be my father, started cracking on to me. I don't know if it's the pasty skin or the inability to dance but there was something that was drawing them over!
They all looked a bit like this guy though, so it just didn't do it for me.
As we were leaving I was approached by a guy selling roses. He tried to give me one and I got into an argument and told him that I didn't want one, that I didn't have any money and that I wasn't buying one. He insisted on giving it to me as a present and then ran away so I couldn't give it back to him.
I'm still trying to figure out what the catch is...
We left the club at 6am and headed back to Ruby's where we crashed on the couch for a few hours- before beginning the walk of shame home on the metro- where again, we were the only ones wearing heels (or at least I was, Yas gave up on them again!)
Friday night helped me to realise why the whole country shuts down on a Sunday (I couldn't even go to LIDL today)- the whole city is hungover. No doubt.
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