79. Tue 18/4/17: Taberna Tirso de Molina, Madrid

Beer: San Miguel 5%

Our local pub – two minutes from our flat. Again this is a darkly lit, dark wood (certainly darker than the ubiquitous brown in British boozers) – but not evoking Bavaria this time, rather the Nineteenth Century Paris of Toulouse Lautrec… apologise, sometimes ones CSE Grade 4 Art training just kicks in. Art Nouveau is it? Not sure how/where that succeeds or falls – but there are faint touches of grandiose, from stained glass windows to ceilings bedecked with chandeliers and mirrors.

Maybe where it does succeed is in that the décor doesn’t render the bar any more or less poncey than any other fairly decent bar on the corner of a city centre square.

A sign in the pub suggests that they’ll be screening Leicester v Atletico a little later. Not sure why we’re bothered, but we decide to pop by and have a look. When the football does start, the hostelries of Madrid are screening Real v Bayern, being played just up the road, en masse (including this place, so we don’t stay).

340. Wed 14/3/18: El Serrallo, Cádiz

Beer: San Miguel 5.0%

We watch the second half of the football (Barcelona 2-0 Chelsea) in this bar, a couple of doors down and nearer the fountain in Plaza Mentidero.

It’s a San Miguel bar, which is nice. Steph, untypically, has been moaning about Cruzcampo minutes earlier… frankly though, there are odd times when even this beer starts going down quite nicely after the first couple. This seems like one of those nights.

Messi scores again.

Clientele, made up of aged old fellas, sat on round tables at the end of the bar where the telly is, murmur muted appreciation. I’m bored of this meaningless megla-millionaire football.

They all disappear as soon as the match ends, but we sit and discuss relative values of Cádiz compared to Seville. It seems decidedly more laid back here, which is nice. I’m not entirely sure we’ll be coming back soon – but it’s a lovely place.

 

182. Mon 2/10/17: Café-Bar Vetusta, Benidorm

Beer: San Miguel 5%
One of the more significant reasons why Steph’s folks love Benidorm, I reckon, is that so many of their friends and acquaintances (mostly from Line Dancing circles, or rows) do too. That’s perfectly understandable – and what better than to spend extended holidays than in the sun with friends and family? I’m not entirely sold – but I can see the point.

Anyway, we’re out with a group of friends – it's Kim’s birthday. Steph and I don’t know Kim, and I do harbour doubts that we’ve ostensibly gatecrashed a family do. No, it’s fine, apparently, but I wouldn’t necessarily inflict a party of strangers to my dubious company for a few hours on their birthday. But, no, again, it’s fine. I haven’t written up the meal, ‘cause it’s a restaurant… I have a locally brewed beer, and the steak. Ice cream for dessert.

Post-meal we wander somewhat aimlessly en masse around the Old Town and, having accurately identified us as the incoherent gaggle of foreign tourists we are, we get set upon by the Vetusta hawker who corrals us to a table outside his employers’ bar.

We wouldn’t have picked it ourselves, but the beer was ok. The coffee (my shout, the coffee – happy birthday) wasn’t.

32 Sun 9/4/17: El Rincon Iberico, Malaga

Beer: San Miguel 5.0%
Having watched another Semana Santa procession wend its way laboriously up Malaga’s main drag we stumble through the crowds and into this bar. It’s mercifully quiet in here, and it’s serving San Miguel which is a welcome change from Cruzcampo.

Well maintained, clean and boring. The tapas counter has three small dishes, and one apple, on show. Celta Vigo v Eibar is on the telly.

The photographs I took in this bar were the worst yet. To make up for this, and to bolster my top reportage photographer delusions (I have a degree), I’ll attach a snap of a Semana Santa peso (the big floats). In Malaga the pesos where hauled by costumed men (including some blindfolded, some others barefooted) carrying via a number of large struts in front and behind the peso. In Seville the costaleros are invisible as they carry the pesos from underneath.

33 Sun 9/4/17: Cafeteria Plata, Malaga

Beer: San Miguel 5.4%

Post-procession we meander back over the (nominal/largely dried up) river towards our apartment. This is a very clean and decent bar, serving bottles of San Miguel and tapas. We have some Russian Salad and Patatas Bravas – although the cabinet also boasts something else Russian Saladesque, but with additional unction and crab stickery. We had one or the other… I can’t remember although, if it was just a case of pointing, I can’t see that we wouldn’t have plumped for RS+.

A quiet last drink of the evening was pleasantly enlivened by a returning paso, back from the Cathedral and wending its way back to its parish. Pleasingly, the crowds hadn’t followed, and the procession has a friends and family (some clergy no doubt) feel. The bell on the paso was struck for a break near to the bar – and several penitents (mostly whipping off their hoods beforehand) and bearers dived into the bar for water and/or a wee.

Stephanie insight: bar is a bit rubbish (my notes say I concur though, in retrospect, that seems a little harsh).