. Mine was a Capiroska, which kicked ass! An Irish lad in our gang named Keane, was give something that looked rather toxic know as aN Old Smokey Bastard and a real bastard it was!
s I sampled, you could smell the charcoal and wood extract in it. It based vile and I'm sure after tonight I wouldn't be seeing Keane for at least two days due to being is stasis or some kind of drunken suspended animation - it was that potent. After an hour we set off for home and I would arrange to meet Nino on a Saturday.
Again what started out as a real morning after day turned out to be quite a cool one. Also the venues we went to had no sign of working girls or Adam's Apples in sight! So it seems there are venues in this town where both can be
5am in bed ,s o as you've probably now guess I din't exactly get a early morning start. Gotupat 11 which wasn't to bad and food of course was the first order of business. After that I milled around harping I would find a burst of energy to go for a run but it looked doubtful. EventuallyI got my arse up and went out their for another sweat fest, then headed back for more milling around. Against my better judgement I decided to go to a jazz evening with Nino but he promised that the evening would be a far more chilled one than the night previous, so I thought to myself why not. The jazz bar was really cool and the band were strong. So on my coca cola, I funked out to the sounds of the band engaging in numerous conversations with the people on the rather large table we had. Once done Nino insisted that we hit a speakeasy bar. So after a half hour journey and a hidden door which Nino gave his secret knock on to! We were led into a rather swanky, dimly lit, chilled out cocktail bar. Our barman was called David and his unorthodox style was to engage in friendly conversation with each one of us, to then asses which cocktail would be most suitable for us or even to make up one on the spot using ingredients chosen by ourselves