I Turned 60 And Got My Fourth Tattoo In Barcelona, Spain
My present to myself for my 60th birthday was a new tattoo.
I got it in Barcelona’s Gothic Quarter, at Meat Shop Tattoo, an obscure little place (every place in the Quarter is obscure, to be fair) tucked away on Passatge del Crèdit across from the Tapes Sant Miquel restaurant and next to the Artevistas art gallery. It’s a dark little courtyard, full of artwork and graffiti — a collection of cans reads “We are crazy people in love with life,” with a sticker attached underneath, “Have a great day,” and there are wicker chairs outside the tattoo shop’s entrance, a brightly-painted ashtray nearby.
Like so many places in the Quarter, if you want to get to Meat Shop Tattoo, you’re best off taking a taxi to the outskirts, then letting your phone guide you in through the maze of narrow streets that most taxi drivers will refuse to brave. I have spent more time in the Gothic Quarter than anywhere else in Barcelona, but I always need my phone, or even to go out to the bordering Las Ramblas in order to figure out where I am.
The stores sell glossy gelato and paper cups of meat chips and souvenirs like caganers and a thousand things Gaudi-patterned. There’s more than one of every shop, or so it seems, so you would feel as though you were walking through a bad animation if it wasn’t for the gorgeous, intricate…
