SEX AND PARTYING

All differences aside, everyone in the world likes a good party (and good sex). Party under the glow of the full moon in Thailand, thumb through a huge collection of sex toys in Paris’ Pigalle, and rage on to Carnaval in Brazil, the big, feathery granddaddy of street parties. Often, you don’t even have to leave your hostel to party, as many places cater to the backpacker party beast that gets unleashed the minute you step on foreign territory. With so many party possibilities, the world’s party scene will make stateside weekend ragers feel like weak sauce. International hookups are bound to happen, and global great times are guaranteed.

BERLIN

COMMUNAL DRUNKFESTS

Like twins conjoined at the skull, separating Germany and beer would result in a bloody mess. Not a place to fuck around when it comes to brew, Berlin is a history-soaked place in northern Germany where beer drinking is also a varsity sport and biergartens, beer bars, and festivals provide countless options for saturation.

FROTHY CULTURE

While their famous blond lagers have only been around for 150 years, Germans have been brewing beer for at least 3,000 years. They’re so psychotic about their beer that special laws were created surrounding its production. The Reinheitsgebot, or the German Beer Purity Law, states that beer only equals water, barley, and hops. This ensures that every brewer gets a level playing field and eliminates the possibility of drinking a six-pack of elephant piss (we’re looking at you, Bud Light). Despite the rigidity of what goes into their beer, the consumption laws are surprisingly lax. In Berlin, there are no open-container laws, so the U-Bahn, S-Bahn, streets, squares, parks, and everywhere in between become a virtual beer garden. That’s great news for cheap travelers who want to hang out with a tallboy and skip the bars altogether.

BEER THE BERLIN WAY

Take the class up just a half notch to fully marinade in Berlin’s beer culture. Strict beerophiles go to Berlin in August. Like Oktoberfest, the “Internationales Berliner Bierfestival” brings together drunks from all over the world annually. It also butts up to the Munich event, so the opportunity to get shitfaced for an entire month and annoy a large portion of the German population is within reach. Beer chugging is basically a national sport, and putting on your beer goggles first thing in the morning is perfectly acceptable.

For the slightly more ambitious, try the Fat Tire Bike Tour, a great way to burn beer calories while pedaling your way toward more beer. You’ll get to stop at a biergarten for lunch, and if you’re in no mood for spaetzle or weisswurst solids, you’re totally allowed to maintain a liquid diet. Loretta’s Biergarten and Café am Neuen See in the Tiergarten have large trees and tons of tables with intermixed beer and food stalls, and are perfect for outdoor re-dehydration. Here, you can get nice and hammered, then rent a rowboat on the adjacent lake.

There’s no scarcity of beer-infused shenanigans in Berlin. So go on—make the Spree River appear a pale shade of gold, and rock out with your stein out.

BRAZIL

EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT CARNAVAL

Arguably the greatest party on the planet, Rio’s Carnaval falls right at the top of every partier’s puke-bucket list. Every February or March, from the Friday about fifty days before Easter until the Tuesday before Lent, thousands of bodies flock to join cariocas (Rio locals) for this five-day exhibition of excess. It’s easy to get lost in the chaos of colors, parades, and street parties. Let’s sift through this blur of samba, skin, insomnia, and sex.

PREPARE

Coming from the United States, you’ll dish out at least a grand for your high-season flight down to the “Marvelous City.” Hotels and hostels in Copacabana and Ipanema shake you down for at least quadruple their normal rates and often demand full-week stays. You might do better on apartment-rental sites like Airbnb.com, but unless you’re lucky enough to score a couch to surf, expect to pay a pretty penny for the very little sleep you’ll get. To avoid sleeping on the sidewalk of N.S. Copacabana Avenue, booking early is mandatory. You’ll even notice the restaurant prices are all written in chalk so owners can jack them up during the festival. There’s no way around it—Carnaval is expensive. You may have to finally take a hammer to your piggy bank, but trust us; it’s worth every one of those pennies. Now, let’s get you a party plan.

SAMBA PARADES

Massive, mind-boggling floats, “who the fuck comes up with this shit?” costumes, gyrating g-strings, and all the samba music your eardrums can handle await you in the Sambadrome—the half-mile-long permanent parade grounds. If you’ve seen pictures of Carnaval, chances are they were taken in one of the neighborhood camps known as “samba schools,” where cariocas somehow manage to stay relatively naked while wearing extravagant costumes. From Saturday to Tuesday, a year of preparation culminates in a ninety-minute march, during which samba schools fiercely compete for the awe of fans and the votes of judges.

STREET PARTIES

Skip the pricey, Viagra-popper-infested black tie balls; the street parties are way more your style. In the center of these bandas and blocos, a percussion circle pumps out nonstop samba music. Brazilians shuffle their feet and shake their asses as vendors wheel around rickety coolers of cheap beer and caipirinhas. There is no dress code, so dress up, dress down, or barely dress at all. Pick up a few samba steps and join the masses (but watch your wallet!). Check out “Simpatia é quase amor,” a street festival in Ipanema, and then head out to the Lapa neighborhood for a massive street party.

HOOK UP!

Start your tongue aerobics now, because these street parties are a saliva Swap-O-Rama. Young cariocas routinely make out with dozens of drooling hopefuls in a single night. All it takes is eye contact, an approach, and a few words before you are familiarizing yourself with some hot Brazilian’s taste buds.

JUST CAN’T SWING IT?

If Rio’s Carnaval just isn’t in the budget, fret not. Carnaval is not just a Rio holiday; it’s a national holiday, celebrated throughout Brazil. Street parties pop up in towns across the country with less tourism (which means lowered costs).

If timing is the issue, you can still get a Carnaval cock-tease at a samba school rehearsal. Starting in August, the schools rehearse on weekend nights, with the band practicing its samba beats and the crowds warming up their shuffling feet. The entrance and drinks are cheap, and the cariocas are all too willing to welcome their new gringo friends with beijos.

COPENHAGEN

KINKY COPENHAGEN

Scandinavia is scandalous as fuck! Copenhagen is known for its legal prostitution—which was decriminalized in 1999—and loose attitudes about sex. A place where you can jerk off at strip clubs, Copenhagen didn’t get to be the most attractive city for nudists by sitting around on its ass wearing pants. Bring your sex positivity and let your kink flag fly.

KINKSTORY

Copenhagen is seriously sexy, and in some ways you’d never imagine. Ever heard of dogging? It’s the act of engaging in and/or watching sexual activity in public—there are unofficial spots in the city’s public parks where people go at it, legally.

Copenhagen is great if you’re gay; trans; into BDSM; like sexy dungeons, rent-by-the-hour love hotels, swinger bars, brothels, or sex clubs—whatever your thing(s), Copenhagen’s got the goods and an entire festival dedicated to kink.

DEETS ON TEETS

Kinky Copenhagen is a festival held every October to showcase the best in sex fetishes from BDSM and more obscure obsessions. Got a redhead fetish? Welcome to paradise. Like to eat grilled cheese sandwiches from the strange crevices of other people’s bodies? Can probably make it happen here. You bet your balls there will be strippers, dominatrices, porn stars, and dudes with whips dressed in latex. Even if you like your sex vanilla, this is the place to breathe easy and let go.

TATS ON TEETS

The kinkfest comes with other perks. Tattoo artists set up shop amid the sexiness, and if your inhibitions are on the next flight out to never-never land, you can get tattoos done right at the fest. If you’re more into piercing and shoving hooks into your skin in general, the fest is a body modification wonderland where you can get anything from a simple nose ring to dragon spikes inserted down your spine. Embracing impulse not your forte? Copenhagen has world-renowned tattoo parlors like the Meat Shop and Royal Tattoo—where legend Henning Jørgensen has been doing his handiwork for over thirty years.

HIPPIE HIDEAWAY

If you get sick of sexfestin’, Christiania is a unique commune inside Copenhagen that was started by hippies fifty years ago. The place is covered in murals, smells like a cloud of weed, and is a happy getaway from the city bustle. The main drag here is Pusher Street, and while hard drugs are prohibited, you can get a handful of greens for cheap and chill knowing that guns and cars are prohibited in this community-owned property.

OTP Tip: Want kink right fucking now? You only have to travel as far as wild and wacky San Francisco where every September, the streets are alive with the sound of bullwhips at the Folsom Street Fair.

GREECE

TOPLESS BEACH MECCA

With all of Greece’s beauty, lack of inhibition, and cultural love of food, it’s no wonder that the country is one of the horniest in the world. Best observed topless and beachside, Greeks are a unique, fun-loving bunch. Sneak a peek at OTP’s three favorite Greek topless beaches.

RED BEACH, CRETE

Crete’s best beach requires a bit of a hike to access (the reward is lots of nudity, so suck it up and trek on). Signs will point you toward the beach from anywhere in Matala, eventually leading you to a goat’s path that you’ll hike downhill for a solid fifteen minutes. Once you’ve made it to the beach, leave your clothes and inhibitions behind, and embrace one of Greece’s greatest topless (and then some) beaches. Awesomely convenient caves line the ocean and provide perfect seclusion for your own body-inspection station.

PARADISE BEACH, MYKONOS

Join the masses from all over the world as they unite to celebrate life. You’ve heard of “letting loose”—take a trip to Paradise Beach and you might turn to liquid. This place is the wonderful result of combining Greece’s natural beauty with nonstop partying. Forget about partying like a rock star—come here to rage like a boulder supernova.

MYRTOS BEACH, KEFALONIA

In the northwest corner of Kefalonia lies Myrtos Beach, often regarded as the best beach in Greece. At first glance, it may seem like nothing special, but its sea of shimmery water, surrounded by green mountains, all swallowed by a beating sun are the winning ingredients for the perfect beach. Feel free to even out your tan lines and let your eyes wander.

OTP Tip: Fancy hotel bars dominate the night-life scene in Greece and make for perfect hook-up spots. In Athens, check out Galaxy at the Hilton, where the sunset view is arguably all the sex you’ll need; the backpacker-macker hot spot Hoxton, where you can hook up with your own backpacker breed; or Mike’s, if karaoke is your idea of foreplay.

LONDON

LEGENDARY PUBS

It’s no secret that Londoners know how to get down with the drink, and have been not-so-quietly chugging pints for centuries. While a watering hole is never more than a stone’s throw away, these London pubs are legendary libation taverns with a rich history of pulverizing livers.

YE OLDE CHESHIRE CHEESE

Known for: Dickens’ fav

You know anything that’s called “Ye Olde” is going to be ye good. This spot first served as a monastery in the thirteenth century and opened its tavernous doors as a pub in 1538. After getting caught up in the flames of the Great Fire of London, it was rebuilt in 1667 into its current iteration—which is a step into the far past with a roaring fireplace, cozy cellar, and creaking floorboards that have absorbed the heavy footsteps of Charles Dickens and Mark Twain.

THE OLD BANK OF ENGLAND

Known for: Sweeney Todd’s butchery bar

With its muraled walls and chandeliered ceilings, this bar’s got that “so fancy it’s scary” vibe, and for good reason: It is said to sit in the connecting space between Sweeney Todd’s barbershop and Mrs. Lovett’s pie shop. If you’re not familiar, here’s the gist: Todd was a psycho barber with sharp objects and Lovett made meat pies. A little snip here, a little trim there, and Todd’s clients turned into Lovett’s pies pretty quick. Our advice? Drink something strong and don’t let anyone near your hair.

THE LAMB AND FLAG

Known for: famous fights

Established in 1772, this alleyway bar quickly became the place locals went to get drunk and beat the shit out of each other. The “Bucket of Blood”—as it was called back then because of its reputation for bare-knuckle boxing—is now pretty serene and covered in old photos of famous patrons. The upstairs room—named after poet John Dryden—is only accessed by a narrow, winding wooden staircase that’ll give you a nice beating if you’re not careful.

CITTIE OF YORKE

Known for: fantastic fireplace

If you’re pissed off about the way Brits spell color and favorite, here’s another one to gripe about. Cittie of Yorke is a step back into time, where furniture was wooden and creaky and people gathered around the unique fireplace made so that smoke goes down instead of up—to sip their liquor slow. To get a feel of the place, order a drink from each of its three bars, especially the dank one down in the cellar. We promise that after a few drinks at Cittie, that language asshole inside your soul will get over it.

THE HOPE AND ANCHOR

Known for: punk past

The Hope and Anchor is a bar with a famous stage; everyone from the Sex Pistols to the Cure to the Pogues played their punk tunes to drunken Brits here. In the ’70s, the Hope and Anchor was on the verge of being shut down until then-owner John Eichler came up with the brilliant plan of throwing shows featuring the best bands of the time. Knocking back a few at this bar will make you want to throw on your best spiky leather jacket, rip up your striped tights, fan out your Mohawk, and imagine rocking the fuck out to the Ramones (who have also played here).

OTP Tip: If secret cocktail bars stir your fancy, check out 5CC, a group of underground dark lounges scattered around London inside or beneath existing bars.

MOROCCO

WHAT THE F*CK IS KIF?

Morocco has long been a hotbed for spice markets, but they’re also into another herb of sorts, and make a decent killing slinging it around the world. Usually smoked in combination with tobacco, Kif is hashish, a sticky brown brick of condensed marijuana. Moroccans love this lung-clouding “perfect bliss” (the direct Arabic translation), and if you’ve ever smoked the stuff, that translation couldn’t be more spot on.

URBAN DICTIONARY

If you feel that any problem can be fixed by smoking weed and kicking around a hacky sack, then this kif’s for you. In the interest of helping you look scholarly in front of your beanie-wearing, dread-head friends, let’s upgrade your stoner dictionary. Ever heard of “50s” or “aces?” They’re a half-cigarette, half-joint creation that some stoner undoubtedly concocted when he was short on the pot supply. Now add a “splif” of kif to your vocabulary: a concentrated mixture of pot rolled up with tobacco in a cigarette paper for your portable, mind-altering enjoyment.

HISTORY 101

In the early 1900s, kif was openly sold in Moroccan markets. It was sold as pure marijuana then, but in the ’60s, English hippies swooped in and started mixing it with tobacco, creating the version we all know and love today. Kif has an interesting identity around the world. The uptight French have banned it, but it’s perfectly legal in Spain. And in Morocco, although it’s not a lawful activity, it’s a popular one. Many young Moroccan boys start smoking at the age of nine or ten; we’re jealous, as elementary school assemblies and times tables would have been way more fun after a couple of hits.

BUYERS BEWARE

Finding a kif dealer is like finding dirty sheets in a college dorm. While there’s a dealer everywhere you look, buying kif from a stranger in public is a common rookie mistake. Sure, it seems convenient at the time, but the likelihood of finding out that said stranger is a police informant is quite high, and you’ll end up in a dingy Moroccan prison without food, water, or your dignity. Despite being a chief export for Morocco and a major pastime for the male population, kif is actually illegal. If your idea of fun doesn’t involve rubber gloves, a fistful of sand, and your tender parts, then you’re better off getting the ingredients for your high elsewhere.

THE GOOD STUFF

Now, if you are a bong-toking tripper who came all the way to Morocco to find the kind, listen up. There isn’t an eighth of Moroccan kif that comes with a money-back guarantee, so avoid purchasing last year’s oregano by keeping your shopping away from street dealers. If you’re friendly and outgoing, find a group of men in a café to discreetly smoke with and you can be fairly confident that the kif is of decent quality. Souvenir shoppers should look for small pipes called sebsis, or water pipes called hookahs (or hubbly bubblies) in markets around Morocco. They won’t be out on display, but can be found if you cruise into smaller bazaars. Keep your wits about you, and your personal belongings close to the vest when participating in illicit kif activity in Morocco.

OTP Tip: Remember that homegrown, Moroccan kif is going to be much more potent than the stuff your band-mate hid in your guitar case when you were crossing the Canadian border. Portion accordingly.

… AND THEY’RE ALWAYS GLAD YOU CAME

Nearly all of the kif in Morocco comes from the Rif Mountains that stretch from the Mediterranean Sea to the port city of Tangier. The police know the route all too well, so it’s not wise to travel with kif anywhere in the country, as cops are looking to shake down hazy-eyed tourists. While you can get ten years in the slammer for buying or smoking kif in Morocco, not every square inch of Morocco is a kif landmine. Chefchaouen is a chill spot where most people feel safe enough to puff the good stuff with their new-found homies in hostels and guesthouses. For a change up, try taking your toking to the beach or out into nature where the public won’t be made to watch your high-as-a-kite shenanigans. You can let down your hair, dance around with tambourines, and take an irie look at a country that’s a total mind-fuck with or without kif.

PARIS

CHEAP DILDOS AND FANCY-ASS SEX SHOPS

Baguettes aren’t the only phallic objects you’ll find in Paris. Don’t let a TSA confiscation ruin your good times. Let OTP guide you to the finest sex shops in Paris to restock your toys and trinkets so you can leave squealing “oui, oui” all the way home.

DARK ALLEYS

If Ron Jeremy and Jenna Jameson were to marry, their reception would look something like Pigalle Place. During World War II, soldiers nicknamed the red light district “Pig Alley,” as many would rabidly visit for a taste of the good stuff after months of celibacy at the barracks. Today, the area is still a sty—where people flock to buy sex toys like pigs to shit. Pick your pleasure with an assortment of toys, peep shows, strip clubs, and other X-rated attractions.

GET IN ON THE PDA

Paris is packed with enough sightseeing to le puke, and the Seine River is notorious for being Paris’s most make-out-worthy attraction. Littered with beautiful bridges that offer unmatchable, multiperspective views of the city, this river comes with a live, busker-generated soundtrack to accompany your shameless groping. Hang out on the Pont Neuf and pack a picnic afterward for the Square du Vert-Galant. Then, park your lazy ass on one of the benches on the Pont des Arts; treat your eyes to the surrounding sights of the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and Notre Dame Cathedral; and start doing some slimy tongue push-ups.

TOUR DE FRANCE

Start your sexploits by visiting the Musée de l’Érotisme (Museum of Eroticism) at 72 Boulevard de Clichy. Floors one and two are kinky paradise. Here, you can also find various figurines engaging in wild figurine sex, including tiny depictions of priests and nuns doing the nasty. The remaining floors house temporary exhibitions. After soaking up the museum culture, head to Rebecca Rils just down the street at 76–78. This supermarché érotique is a mainstream sex supermarket and attracts tourists (like your parents, which would be really awkward). The massive store is divided into four sections: DVDs, lingerie, gadgets, and shoes. The supermarché is great for basics like colorful furry handcuffs, masks, whips, nipple clamps, and chocolate sauce. For raunchier merchandise, visit Sexodrome at 23 Boulevard de Clichy. The ’drome is an adults-only Toys “R” Us, with more than 2,500 square meters of sex toys and apparatuses, freak-nasty reading material, and general filth.

THAT’S THE SPOT

As you walk up the stairs in the middle of the Boulevard de Clichy, you’ll know you hit the right spot when it starts to smell like the Playboy mansion grotto after an all-night pool party. This den of sex is located directly below the Sacré Coeur Catholic church, perfect for cleansing your Catholic guilt or, more important, since Sacré Coeur sits at the highest point in Paris, checking out the amazing views while testing out your recent purchases.

Paris may be known as the city of love, but it’s got more than a few kinks down at the core. Let go of the sophistication front for a bit and let Pigalle stroke your libido in every which way.

PERU

DOING CRAZY-ASS TRIBAL DRUGS IN THE AMAZON

This isn’t your everyday hallucinogen. But if those aren’t cutting it anymore, up the psychedelic ante and venture into the mysterious world of ayahuasca. Native to Amazonian tribes, locals consider ayahuasca a medicine (don’t call it a drug) that allows them to transcend a multidimensional universe, encounter demons from their past that live within, purge them from their bodies, and ultimately arrive in an unprecedented state of nirvana. Sound intense? That’s because it is. And that’s just the beginning. This is no poppable happy little party pill to make your nightmares go away so you can stop sleeping in your parents’ bed. Ayahuasca, which means “vine of the soul” in Quecha is a sludgy, brown, gag-reflex inducing combination of the ayahuasca vine and chacruna leaves. One user described the taste as “Baileys Irish Cream mixed with prune juice.” Let’s get you all sauced up.

THE FACTS

For You Science Nerds

Neither the ayahuasca or chacruna plant on its own produces the mind and body trip for which ayahuasca is famous. According to the Western medicine explanation, the chacruna leaves contain the hallucinogen DMT. But our body contains monoamine oxidase (MAO), which destroys tryptamines such as DMT before they can be absorbed. However, the ayahuasca vine contains harmala alkaloids, which act as MAO inhibitors and allow the DMT to be absorbed in our blood stream and the hallucinations to begin.

For Us Regular People

Now, let’s translate all of that to English. The chacruna plant has DMT, which is the awesome college dorm room party just waiting to happen. MAO, which is in our bodies, is the lame-ass RA next door who will write you up as soon as the noise gets above library-loud. The ayahuasca vine is an MAO inhibitor—the clever roommate who just baked the RA a sedative-laden apple pie. Let the DMT party commence.

WHAT IT FEELS LIKE

Endless, inescapable darkness surrounds you. Evil spirits circle like vultures in the distance, taking turns darting through you and tearing off a piece of your soul. One stops and pierces you with its stare. Transfixed by the fiery red eyes glowing from its skull, you hear a dark whisper. “You are trapped here. Forever.” Its mouth does not move, but its eyes flare with every syllable like gasoline on a fire. You scream out to your shaman, who calmly walks over. “Está bien,” you hear, followed by the ruffling of leaves and the massaging sound of spirit songs. The skull is sucked away like a vacuum into the abyss. Feeling returns to your extremities, and you are again in your own body. You open your eyes and see your shaman holding a small branch and sitting cross-legged next to you. His eyes, flickering in the candlelight, are a warm blanket on a cool summer night. The entire episode overwhelms you, and you roll over to vomit violently into the bucket next to your mat.

WHERE THE MAGIC HAPPENS

While the practice has gained a following in the States (especially Northern California), true ayahuasca rituals occur deep in the Amazon jungle and last for several days. It’s a spiritual retreat, not a nightclub or rave. The ceremonies are led by master shamans, who spend years apprenticing under elder shamans to earn the coveted title. The curriculum includes learning the healing properties of various plants, navigating alternate realms, learning “spirit songs” to guide retreatants, and drinking enough ayahuasca to make Charlie Sheen say, “no, thanks.” Shamans have been wandering other dimensions since before Jesus walked on water, although no one knows who was first responsible for this crazy concoction. Ceremonies take place at night in a quiet candlelit jungle lodge. When the ayahuasca is dispersed, the retreatants choke down the sludge, each with their own specific recipe and quantity, and the trip begins. Many call it the worst experience of their life: unforgiving darkness, suppressed emotions, and fear manifest as evil spirits and voices; visions of hell and the devil himself; and endless terror and misery. Buckets are provided to handle the inevitable vomiting.

THAT SOUNDS LIKE AWFUL BULLSHIT

Don’t paddle away yet—there’s a payoff. The shamans say confronting and defeating these evil spirits within us is the only way to absolve our souls of their existence. A cultish—yet sizable—following of people agree and attribute ayahuasca to curing everything from depression to cancer. One such user says ayahuasca launches you to a reality you’ve never seen or even imagined, as opposed to the likes of acid and mushrooms, which only mind-fuck the world around you. “Other-worldly” is a pretty universal description among those that have braved the ordeal. The shamans say the vomiting is the embodiment of our purged demons. The trip lasts roughly six hours, but our pedestrian concept of time really has no meaning when realm-trotting. It may take several sessions, but once the internal demons are defeated and the darkness is broken, vivid heavenly visuals accompany a serene state of bliss. This follows the user back to our linear universe, where he is vindicated from a lifetime’s worth of suppressed fear and despair.

YOUR PIECE OF PUKEY ENLIGHTENMENT

Iquitos, Peru, is the unofficial capital of ayahuasca tourism. At the airport, people will scream “ayahuasca” at you as you step outside, but do your homework beforehand and find a recommended master shaman. When you are transcending dimensions and plunging to the depths of inner hell, it helps to have a good tour guide.

SPAIN

WHAT THE F*CK IS A BOTELLÓN?

Bar in the car, BYOB, or a hidden flask full of the strong sauce—we’ve all got our own budget boozing tactics. But throw in a little good weather, some strapped-for-cash youth, and a culture that likes to knock ’em back, and you’ve got yourself the ultimate outdoor bender: botellón. Where do you sign up?

THE ORIGIN

The south of Spain might be known for those stupidly hot flamenco dancers, but one of the best things to come out of the region is botellón. Literally translated as “big bottle,” botellón and all its trashy glory came to life in the ’80s, when small groups of working-class locals would gather in plazas to get tipsy for cheap. Given Spain’s love affair with the fiesta, it’s no surprise that the tradition spread through the country like herpes during freshman year. Now, younger Spaniards toast (over and over again) to drinking and socializing without breaking the bank. We agree—it’s the levelheaded thing to do.

BINGING LOGISTICS

Come weekend time, from 11:00 p.m. to as late as 3:30 a.m., Spanish plazas, parks, and alleys fill with fourteen- to almost-thirty-year-olds looking to binge on a budget before heading to more expensive bars and clubs. Say what? Yeah, in the land of the eighteen-year-old drinking age and living in casa till you tie the knot, parents just don’t keep tabs on their teens like they do back home. And rather than drinking until their feet are numb, the Spaniards traditionally tend to keep their shit a tad more under control.

BRING IT

The bottled beverages at botellón vary, but like many important things in life, size matters. Often called ir de litros, or “to go out for liters,” large quantities are the name of the game—from beer to juice mixtures and every other absurd fusion under the scorching Spanish sun. Most famous are the kalimotxos—a Basque beverage of mixology genius, which combines cola and dirt-cheap red wine. The gnarly blend might not sound like a match made in heaven, but it handily shortens the distance between sober and drunk without your going bankrupt.

OTP Tip: Should you run out of drinks past purchase hours, keep an eye out for the lingering foreign street vendors hawking emergency cervezas.

BOTELLÓN HOTSPOTS

If you put a tracking device on any shitty bottle (or box) of Spanish alcohol, it would lead you to impromptu booze sessions taking place on university campuses across the country. Other hotspots include the Plaza del Carmen in Barcelona and plazas throughout the La Latina, Chueca, and Malasaña neighborhoods of Madrid. But really, come Thursday night, all squares, beaches, and parks are fair game.

OTP Tip: Macrobotellón is when people text and e-mail groups across the country to meet. This turns into a swarm of drinking and saliva-exchanging. When getting smashed at bars and discotecas starts to lose its luster—or when the money well runs dry—hit the streets with the Spanish teens. Bring your big bottle and make yourself at home—things are gonna get muy sloppy.

Barcelona, Spain

If you happen to be trolling Barcelona for some booty, keep an eye out for this guy. Nobody knows his name, origin, or intentions, but anyone who’s taken a trip to Barcelona has probably witnessed this old guy and his foot-long flaccid cockzilla freely flapping around town. He’s permanently “dressed” with an underwear tattoo—a not-so-subtle “fuck you” to public nudity laws. Catch him chatting with cops, sippin’ brews, posing for pictures, ramblin’ down Las Ramblas, and simply hanging out.