Sitting in my boiling hot room as Spanish temperatures have been blistering lately… I just thought I’d light one, play some music and write a bit.

Working in a country that is suffering from a banking crisis has been quite the challenge. Roughly 50% of young people here are out of work, and the fact I managed to find a job is something that still bewilders me.

It’s not as though the Spanish don’t want to work…it’s just that there is no work. Protests are held in the streets on a regular basis due to that, although tourism and the nightlife are basically carrying this city afloat at the moment…things have to change… and soon.

The threat of complete economic failure hasn’t scared me even remotely though… although I just plan on being here for the summer. I guess I really came here to in order to appreciate the value of money and struggles of life.

In Bermuda the GDP is abnormally high, and the average working person is paid between US$500 and US$1500 a week, so you never really understand life without money…. until you try to buy real estate.

As I’m always looking for a challenge rather than something boring and predictable I decided to work in Barca… and honestly I find trying to survive here a thrill.

Like I said in ‘Who I am’ some people have described me to be random.

Sharing an apartment with locals has been such a good experience as well…  and very different as I’m the only straight person in a house with 2 girls and one other guy.

So whenever La selección (Spanish futbol team) play in the Euros – we’re in the final tomorrow Viva España!!! –  I’m watching it with the girls instead of the guys…it’s a funny twist because she knows even more about football tactics than I do sometimes.

They definitely cook more than anyone else I’ve ever lived with…and quality meals too…with a vast array oils and spices every time I cook… I experiment. As a stoner, I love food… due to munchies… and since my mother taught me how to cook as soon as I was able to walk…I’m fuckin lovin it.

Making pastas, hot sandwiches, salads and roasts I’m finding myself preferring to cook at home. It’s cheaper, it’s healthier…. But damn I just love food and that kitchens my lab.

Managing money has been a challenge as well, often I leave 2 of my cards at home to prevent overspending and rely on the cash I have for a night out. It’s smart as well since pickpockets are everywhere in this city.

It’s fucking working too…I’m definitely not buying bottles in a club… but I’m living a damn good bar life. Making connections with bartenders you often get discounts or free shots.

So as I begin my working life in extreme conditions…I just wanna say it beats the shit out of studying for exams.

Now as my munchies have kicked in….I’m gonna make a meal 😉

The Stoke Chronicles: Sant Joan

Sant Joan… it’s the day that marks the beginning of summer, and the entire city celebrates it like a kid on Christmas morning. Firecrackers, fireworks, blazing, drinking and just havin’ a good time is the order of the day.

So Stoke started that beast of a day with a boat party. Describing to our guests that Sant Joan is a wild beach celebration of 10’s of 1000’s of people getting smashed until they pass out….I saw smiles go across the rows.

Bartending with my homegirl Isa from Dominican Republic, we were dishin’ out drinks at light speed but since everything is unlimited people were asking for 10 beers at a time….and coming back 5 min. later!!

In anticipation of the long night ahead, many decide to conserve their energy…but definitely not their livers…dishing out the remaining 50 or so beers across the group we stumbled on down to the beach.

Lighting a bowl… I noticed a few guests from our boat trip sit down next to me….we have a chat, they say their from Texas and noticing their eagerness I asked if they wanted to smoke too.

“Thanks man, that’s kind of the reason why I came here,” He responded.

Passing them Miss Mary we get into a conversation about how expensive weed is in London…. .XD, since we both studied there for a while.

After a few minutes I look up to see everyone else enjoying the remaining beers and sipping Sangria from a bucket with a ladle, in the name of Sant Joan.

With what must have been over 100,000 people along the shore, it was only natural we dance along all the bars that were renovated into clubs for this insane night.

As everyone had a good time I just gotta say that with us you don’t have to worry or stress about being able to go wild….. because we do everyday.

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Dub-steppin through London

As a traveller I find that the nightlife of a city often reflects the ambience it exerts during the day. A chill n casual place like my home nation Bermuda often listen to slow tunes which you grind and dance to…..then others like the massive power that is Berlin have a unique blend of deep house and electro music.

Dub wasn’t on my mind until I met another laaiidd back, ganja-smokin’ island boy from Mauritius called Vip (yes, like Very Important Person) who’s like a brotha’ from anotha’ motha’ to be honest. Introduced over a joint, he told me of a few dub-step clubs that were making waves in the city, Fabric and Cable.

The latter…. became like a second home.

A hole-in-the-wall club located near London Bridge tube station…. its not something your average tourist would find without some help.

And although I’m a self-confessed lover of Mary Jane…I can appreciate the stress relief and warm feeling provided by club drugs, especially considering the tension that comes with everyday life in London.

But people after dark in London are probably the nicest you can encounter, although it may have been all the MD going around….the club was just….a ‘happy place’.

Vip and I would go for the love of the music and with local DJ’s playin the best dub-step around and MC’s bustin’ raw lyrics…you can often find yourself on top of one of the giant speakers shirtless actin’ a fool.

With familiar faces, the club has a family-like atmosphere…and often people would sit in little hippie circles whilst smoking a ciggie/joint outside for a rest and talk.

Swaying from left to right as your sitting down because your so fucked, you meet people from all over the world, such as South Africa, Bulgaria and of course Spain, all there for the love of Dub.

Eventually our homegirl Deej had to get in on the act and damn that girl can sweat, often having to ask strangers for hair clips, looking like she just finished swimming.

But damn she knows how to party…. teasing every guy in the club with her ass-shaking… as you often get entire crowds stopping just to stare, or fan her off with their hats.

Flying around Pluto on a jumbo jet pack, the MD provides you with boundless energy and good feelings til sunrise…. With break-dancing, mosh-pits, costumes and girls jumping around in only booty shorts and a bra…. each night was unforgettable.

The only let down was that we lived so far away from the club…. and after dancing 7+ hours straight high on MD, your body crashes like you’ve ran 3 marathons.

But is it worth it? Fuck yea.

I recently took an old high school friend there as well…his verdict?

“The best club I’ve ever been to.”

Although I’m currently in Barcelona where clubs can be otherworldly…  my personal Bible of party stories will forever have a separate testament to Dub-step in London.