This is one of those stories Manu Leguineche would have loved to read and, much more, to write. When I saw it in the New York Times on April 9, 2013, I remembered conversations with the great Spanish correspondent kept alive in his beautiful Brihuega’s (Guadajara) romantic corner for the last few years by a few friends. I don’t know for sure if he ever wrote the book on the world hotels he admired for the footprints left in them by famous authors, journalists, actors, singers and other run away world travellers.
Esta es una de esas historias que, estoy seguro, le habría encantado leer y, sobre todo, escribir a Manu Leguineche. En cuanto la vi, me vino a la memoria alguna conversación con el maestro de corresponsales español sobre los hoteles preferidos o más visitados por los corresponsales y otros personajes de mal o bien vivir (según se mire) recorriendo el mundo para huir de todo o, en ocasiones, para encontrarse a sí mismos.
A World of Secret Watering Holes
Times reporters working abroad pick their most memorable drinking spots
By MAYA LAU
Juana La Loca is a sliver of a bar, but that’s not the only reason it’s usually packed. Many in Spain can’t afford lavish dinners anymore. Here they have a cheaper option: tapas with flair. There’s a good wine list, but the drink of choice is the caña — a draft beer served ice-cold. It arrives in glasses small enough that you never end up with warm beer. And the tapas are probably the most original in the city. One example: butterfish sashimi with truffle shavings and asparagus. Suzanne Daley
RIO DE JANEIRO
Much of Rio de Janeiro may be experiencing the effects of an economic boom, but the city’s unkempt neighborhood bars, known as pés-sujos (literally “dirty feet”) still draw a crowd. The waterfront setting of Bar Urca allows patrons to sip beer on the sea wall as they gaze across Guanabara Bay at the city’s granite peaks. The service is lackadaisical, but what you’re here for is the view. Simon Romero
Like most Kabul cafes, the Design Center cannot serve alcohol, but it is still intoxicating. Afghan carpets cover the floor, and candles fill the recesses in the mud walls. Overhead, lamps of turquoise, amber and pale green Herati glass give the place a festive air. In winter, sitting on the low couches near the huge bukhari wood stove, you feel as if you were in somebody’s living room. Whatever the season, I always order a fresh mint lemonade. It comes in a tall, slender glass, cold and bright green, a perfect balance between tart and sweet. Alissa Rubin
My twitt on the article