Dos Billares

After descending twisted stairs, I enter the catacombs of Casa Camper and suddenly a rectangular wooden bubble full of retro chairs appears before me. It looks like a clandestine Hollywood cocktail bar from the 1950s.

A whiff of Humphrey Bogart’s cologne hangs in the air. The speakers fill the room with spasmodic jazz. Two American billiards tables in impeccable condition preside, the cues hung on the wall, the balls perfectly arranged on the cloth. Lithographs and paintings surround this speakeasy and lead the drinker's gaze to the pulpit that is the bar. Specifically, to the hypnotic afro hairstyle of Archie, a high-flying bartender who dispenses with the menu and prefers to get to know his clients' likes and dislikes. He brings me a wasabi Bloody Mary and I suffer an attack of ethyl-induced priapism: delicious.

With a flick of his wrist he pulls from his hat a strawberry cocoa with vodka and a pinch of chocolate. And the guy gets it right every time. In fact, he mixes up an invigorating drink with passion fruit for my partner. They say it’s an infallible aphrodisiac. That's what they say, anyway...