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I Could Have Been Lonely When I Moved to Spain. Tapas Bar Culture Meant I Wasn’t
Every night was a potential meeting of old friends, making new friends and micro-interactions
I once lived in a town with one bar for every 15 residents. That’s 1000 bars in a place three-quarters the size of Disneyworld.
It’s called Logroño, a small city in the northern Spanish province of La Rioja.
If there is a better town for tapas — or, pinchos as they’re called there— then I haven’t found it. On one 200-metre-long street alone, there are over 50 bars, each with their own speciality. At one place, it’s mushrooms doused in garlic oil. At another, it’s spiced pork skewers cooked over a charcoal grill. Take a pincho and a drink, rinse and repeat until you can’t take it anymore.
I returned to Logroño last week for a few days, as I try to do every few months. One day, I intend to live there again, seeing out the rest of my days with cafés and cañas.
And meeting friends for tapas.
It might seem overindulgent, this food and wine-soaked culture. Too much meat and bread. Too many glasses of wine. Too late to bed. Not exactly in keeping with our modern-day preoccupation with wellness and productivity.
