The Spanish tradition is to eat twelve grapes -- one for each peal of the bell -- at midnight on New Year's Eve. My hotel made sure I had my grapes.
But truth be told, I was asleep at midnight. My disco nap went a little longer than I had planned.
But I was up shortly thereafter and off to a great nightclub called "Salvation." It's huge and was jampacked with at least 3,000 people, the music and lights were great -- and they had the best disco smoke I've ever seen. They'd blast it and create a complete whiteout on the dancefloor.
Whoever said "New Year's Eve is for amateurs," must have never partied in Barcelona.
(The club did seem like something of a firetrap. But we all have to go sometime and it would make for a rather dramatic blog posting. "Ted died in a disco fire on New Year's Eve in Barcelona.")
I must of been having a good time, before I knew it the lights came up and the club was closing because it was 7 a.m. (I guess I succeeded in getting on the Spanish social cycle.)
On the way out they were distributing flyers for an afterparty that started at 7 a.m. and went until 2 p.m. I thought about it for a minute -- but I guess I am an amateur after all.
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