I’ve put this off as long as possible,it’s the foul-smelling, incontinent elephant in the room, but I suppose I have to mention it. Barcelona is one of Europe’s favourite destinations for stag and hen parties. Groups of blokes and burds, wearing matching T-shirts with “hilarious” messages and nicknames are a common sight in the Ramblas area. Okay, mebbes I’m being a bit of a knobend, it’s just hard to keep a positive view on these groups when so many of them are annoying bastards who need a good kick in the baws/bliff.
So, here’s a bit of a guide, stay on the Ramblas, leave the rest of us alone. Actually I do mean the first bit (and the second bit) The bars and restaurants in the Ramblas area are used to dealing with big groups and this makes life a lot easier. For the bevvy then I’m afraid sticking to the “Irish” bars is the best bet. They have a tolerance for the hilarious stag/hen high jinks that you won’t get in some of the local-owned places.
If you have some time away from the main group then by all means fill your boots with the recommendations on the other pages, when mob handed just stick to the Ramblas area it’s the sensible move.
If you are thinking about a stag weekend venue and this post has put you off then
good think again. Despite what sounds a bit of negativity remember I am a 47 year old bloke who is approaching the “that’s not music that’s just a noise” phase of his life. With the weather, the general atmosphere in the city, the relative safety and, of course, the beach, Barcelona is a sensational city for nonsense.
Once you’ve had you day on the beer, stuffed a McDonalds down your throat, had a two hour “power coma” then the next item on the agenda is clubbing. As I said earlier I am of an age where the word “clubbing” conjures up images of baby seals rather than a noisy, dimly lit room but what I do know is that the clubs and bars at Port Olimpic are the most large group friendly in the city. Port Olimpic is 15 mins from the Ramblas and has a number of clubs where after your two hour flight, change in time zone, arrival in a different country, hundreds of euros on hotels you will get the opportunity of pumping a hairdresser from Rochdale/Plasterer from Wolverhampton.
There are a couple of things I’d point out about this area. The first is that a load of pissed up blokes and burds, in all probability carrying a decent amount of cash, is heaven for your pickpocket types. As far as you can keep your wits about you, don’t be taken in with strangers getting pally with you, talking to you about football or whatever. They’ll have your pockets dipped in jig time if you let them near you
Secondly, in the event that you don’t meet the Charleene of your dreams in the club the young ladies who hang around the Port area and Ramblas are not talking to you for your wit and charm. That groin grab, albeit potentially welcome is merely a tactic to distract you in order to relieve you of your wallet.
Ignore the Meldrewesque tone of some of this entry. You’ll have a great time and just think in 20 years time you can tell Brandee, Beyanca and Leee that this where you met their Mum/Dad