#antikaraoke

[leaguant-blog]

Bad girl #antikaraoke #nasty #nightlife #magic #music #club #letsrock #rock #music #party #barcelona @antikaraoke @roseramills @leaguant (en Magic Rock and Roll Club)

[kaykayjoe]

Hanggang ngayon gising pa rin ako.

[chanante]

¿Hoy Antikaraoke? MAKE SOME NOISE!!!

[spainwhatup]

Edgardo, Pillow fights, Civil War bunker

Well, friends, this is the blog post that will be fully about Barcelona, as I leave early next week for Andalusia. Many people are asking me, on the eve of departure, if I am “ready” to go home. I don’t think that word has a place here – I am quite happy here, but I am also quite happy at home. Both places have pros and cons. The only difference is that in most of my life I am in California, so anywhere that’s not California instantly gets a boost just because its new and expands my horizons. That’s not to say I don’t love Cali though. Rather than sadness, I think it’s just going to be weird to leave – but I think it will not truly set in until I am back in the states in June. School next year at a suburban campus, with all Americans, is going to be worse.  No Spanish in the hallways? No foreign beauties everywhere? No metro, no bike sharing service? Both places have copious sun and beaches nearby- guess it isn’t a huge difference.

My friend who was visiting last week is really good at making new friends. You leave him along for five minutes, or a day, and he comes back with some new people in tow – it’s a handy trait to have. I think it’s just because he’s really easygoing and affable, so when he talks to them they’re not threatened or anything. However, it depends on who he makes friends with – sometimes it can be kind of too much. Take Edgardo. We found him near Las Ramblas, and went out with him that night. Edgardo is a wiry Columbian with a musketeer’s mustache and a habit of twitching and rubbing himself that makes you think that he’s on some kind of drugs, but it seems that he’s just like that all the time. (Though I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the former) He has absolutely no money, so whenever we buy little foods or sandwiches he just kind of stands there plaintively and stares. Friendly, though.

After soliciting things to do in Barcelona before you leave, I was recommended the Turo de La Rovira, which is a leftover flak bunker from the Spanish civil war that is perched atop a hill near Parc Guell. The place was totally worth it, and a must see. Its views of the city are even better than the famous Tibidabo, because you have the city spread out in front of you on all sides, rather than just 180 degrees. Plus you have bunker ruins to clamber around on, although there isn’t much left. Sunsets there must be stunning – it’s a bit of a hike to get up there, but it’s a pretty hike, and doesn’t take more than 30 min. 

On Thursday I made it out to Anti-Kareoke, which is kind of like a kareoke rock concert. They have people dressed up a la Rocky Horror and an MC that will sing when nobody else wants to, but the idea of it is that it’s all audience driven. I attempted “Renegades of Funk” by Rage Against the Machine, but didn’t know the lyrics well enough to truly rock it, but with all the lights in your face even if you suck you can’t see the audience reaction. Plus they have some shirtless dude with long hair running around the stage pouring Jack Daniels into people’s mouths and growling, so that keeps them happy. 

On Friday we had a big party at our flat, with something like 40 people. Crowded parties in tiny flats is nothing new to a college student, but this was my first big one where we had neighbor problems, because living in Barcelona means you have all sorts of people next door, instead of other college students like on a campus. We didn’t have any big problems, but it was just a reminder of one of the negative of city life – you don’t have anywhere to really host people. No, they want you to go out and pay for overpriced alcohol with your friends at a commercial venue with strangers. Not the same.

On Saturday I went out with Americans for I think is the first time this semester, for a birthday. The experience was drastically different that what I have been accustomed to- we Yanks drink to get drunk, and pregame hard. That paradigm doesn’t seem to work as well here, due to the long nights and lower drinking age. It was simply a stark reminder of how differently two culture approach the same custom (alcohol).

I witnessed my first Castellers fall this week, as an actual participant. It was only a small one, with four levels high, but still, its tiny children falling from at least 12 feet on top of other people. That’s one of the functions of the lower group – to cushion the fall of the upper ones. No injuries, just some bruises – afterwards all anyone would comment on was how rare that was to happen, not chiding or babying or anything. Man, in America I don’t even know what they would do-obviously they’d never do Castellers. The little girls kept on going strong the whole practice though- no fear. 

They was a big organized pillow fight in Plaza Catalunya, which was great fun. Something like 200 people all congregate in the square and go at each other at the signal of an airhorn. Everybody is packed so tight that it is hard to get goo wind up, so it is more like pillow smashing, with a few more spirited duels going on. I decided to bring my roomate’s beanbag, which turned out to be a fantastic idea – it works as a shield as well, and when you get tired you can lie down on it in the square. Everyone gangs up on you in the crowd, though, because your ‘pillow’ is so much bigger. By the end of the hour feathers and fluff were flying everywhere – great pictures!