Bars in Andalucia
When you enter a local
bar in Spain, you are actually entering in a spanish home. The bar owner
has probably spent 3/4 of a lifetime in that bar, and he or she probably
lives upstairs.
The expression "working hours" really doesn't exist here. Imagine yourself
spending 15 to 18 hours a day at work , 7 days a week. And not for a couple
of years only, but for a lifetime. I myself couldn't have worked that
way. But the spaniard can. He takes maybe a month off in wintertime, but
the rest of the year he works almost round the clock. Therefore you should
not be surprised if you meet a barowner who does not exactly welcome you
with the biggest smile when you enter the bar around closing hours, whenever
that is, cause his probably very close to his bed and very anxious to
get there after a long day.
Sometimes the mood of the barowner seems unpolite to a Norwegian who
expect all people working in this business to wear the same polite mask.
But there's a big and significant difference between Norway and Spain
when it comes to bars. In Norway a bar is a place where grown ups go to
get drunk. This is not a place for children and definately not a family
place. The 'high morals' have made bars a non-existent place for the younger
part of the population.
In Spain things ar quite to the contrary. A bar might be a prolongation
of the family dining room. A taxi driver in Madrid told us; "In Spain
we live outside of our houses". The whole family is still there at two
in the morning. A couple we have befriended in Nerja run a small hole
in the wall bar. He is a former cyclist, boxer, tennisplayer and god knows
what else. They do not drink or smoke. If you visit them at home, they
offer you a orangejuice or a coffee, or maybe a glass of tapwater. But
they do work in a small, smokey room from people's drinking habits. They
work seven days a week, from 10am to 3pm, and from 7pm to 01-04am. On
sundays they take the morning off. This have been their life for the last
seventeen years. Each break or siesta is used to workout, then it's back
to work. From our point of view, a northern european point of view that
is, this is madness. But in southern Spain it's just what you do to make
a living.
The whole family might be in this place. Children of 4-5 years walk around
late at night, young flamenco singers have a contest in a family owned
bar at 12 o'clock in the night. There's no limit to the age. In some bars
in Spain you read a sign saying 'Alcohol not allowed for people under
18 years', other bars say 16 years. We do not know who makes the rules.
A regular tapas bar looks like a mess after lunch hours. It's customary
to drop whatever you had in your hands on the floor. Be that a sigarett,
a napkin or the rest of the chicken, down to the floor it goes. When everyone's
left, the wife of the barowner comes out and sweeps the floor. No limits.
One thing you rarely see in this land of bars and cheap beer, is drunk
people. This is uncustomary, and the locals laugh of norwegians on a two
weeks holiday who can hardly walk when they leave the bar. We experienced
the anual mega party in Nerja, the San Isidro festival. The fiesta is
famous in Spain and hordes of people come from as far of places as Madrid
to visit. It's arranged elsewhere as well, but Nerja have the reputation
of beeing the biggest and hotest of them all. And it probably is. The
party is held outside the famous caves, three kilometer from the town
centre and everyone is there. It starts on Thursday night and continues
on Friday with the official fiesta. Some people don't go to sleep, they
keep on partying throughout a good thirty hours. Even here we didn't see
anyone who was really pissed, except offcourse foreign tourists. The barowners
of the town move the whole establissement up to the caves and run the
bar from there. There is alcohol sold everywhere, but the young people
seem to drink with pride and character. The fiesta was extraordinary,
and if you're in the area around the 15 of May, don't miss it. But save
some energy to the main day so you'll be capable of enjoying the parade
and afternoon happenings. We were advised that the night before was the
best night for a party, so we stayed up late, drank some and were pretty
wasted the next day. We regretted this when we found out that the party
the next day was even better, because now everyone was in it, old and
young.
When all this is said about the spaniard's pride in drinking, then I
guess it's time to add that they're the biggest beer drinkers in the world,
yes - even ahead of the Germans. So I suppose you don't have to be mathematician
to conclude that there must be quite a few alcoholics around. There is,
we've seen people all over southern Spain start the day in the cafe early
in the morning with Carajillo or other local shots.
There is a bar in Nerja called Bar de Futbol, the football bar. We have
visited the place a few times because of the barowners, a man and his
wife far beyond retirement age in a bar that was decorated god knows how
many years ago with fan stuff from different Spanish and English football
clubs. The first time we visited the place we were on our way home after
a slow night on town and heard what we believed was angry voices from
the interior. We went inside and found six people in ther plus the owner
and his wife. Two guys were discussing the result of the lates game, and
all though they were right next to each other, they screamed. But they
weren't angry, and the owner didn't mind. It was the way it should be.
Next to us were a German with his wife. We ordered drinks and got a beer
and the house wine. For the next ten minutes we stood and overheard the
discussion between the two football fans. It was sunday night and the
owner was obviously a little drunk. When he served drinks he whistled
and poored a small glass to himself as well, trying to hide it from his
wife, but doing it in front of us. We smiled at him and he blinked back.
We decided it was time to go and paid, tipping some as usual. He looked
at the tip, looked over at the German and threw the coin hard into the
tipping bucket, keeping the German's eye and said; "This is what I do
to nice customers", and filled our glasses again for free. The German
looked embarrased and we realised that this was not the first time he
had been bad customer in this place. We had a good laugh on the way back
home.