It’s mid-morning on Sunday as we sip cafés con leche (Cafés el Magnífico) and the first of “los frikis españoles,” in head-to-toe spandex, shuffles desperately in and beelines it for the bathroom. His mates, all “marcando paquete” in black tights with greenish-yellow reflector accents, wander in more calmly, order beers (medianas de Galicia at €1,50) and sit out front in the sun rolling cigarettes, the healthy part of their Sunday over and done with. On Thursday evenings “los filipinos” come around with pink and powder blue fixies in pristine condition with pimp-your-ride price tags. “Ni uno de ellos tiene novia, creo.” Then there are “los Bromptons”, people with pasta, who come in for a gin tonic, wearing dress shirts, all arregladito. “Te lo juro, todos hablan de ir al gimnasio.”
And one mustn’t forget the “hipsters” with their Hollywood beards. “¡Son tan guapos! Siempre viene un grupo de unos seis con sus barbas y tal y es como, por favor, ¡qué buenos están!” Microcosms within microcosms. Cultures within cultures. Tribes. Our quoted anthropologist is Eva, one of four [email protected] running the place. Mark, whose name figures on the business card, is around the back in the taller. Xavi tends to organize outings on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays, also the days they add tacos to their modest but quality culinary offering (three tacos + salad + frijoles + caña for €8).