The Caterpillar asked, puffing smoke into Alice’s face.

Living in Madrid, one of my main goals was to be a regular in places, in an attempt to be a part of the city’s landscape, or something pretentious like that.
Perhaps, after a while, so that there would be at least a handful of Madrid residents that knew me well enough not to revile me based on my nationality but for other, better-founded reasons.
(I jest… I think.)

The best place I’ve ever found to play The Caterpillar is Yambala, a little place owned by a Morraccan man where, if you take a good group, you can easily split the price of a hookah (the barkeep will write ‘xixa’ on your bill, and you’ll be charmed for months to come).

Yambala is tucked away on the same tiny side street off of Plaza Del Sol that the Cien Montaditos is on– the little street that ends in that fabulous churro place. If you don’t know the street #KeepExploring.

There are leather poufs and floor pillows and low carved wooden tables. A bunk bed of sorts you can sit up in and smoke & drink.

(this image is from TripAdvisor, so I guess this place isn’t really a secret, but there were never any other Americans when we were there, but occasionally Brits, which isn’t a problem in my book)
This was the place where my friends & I showed up (like, probably eight of us) to smoke and chit chat, only to be told we needed to scoot over, there was going to be a show.
So some three-man-band sets up and plays in a wee room for what I imagine was 18-ish people. It was great, and definitely one of the more serendipitous things to have occurred in my time in Paradise.
It definitely has the American coffeehouse vibes, but not at all, because its way cooler because I can romanticize the hell out of it because its foreign, so I will, thanks.

Another time at Yambala (the same week, actually, perhaps even the next day– like I said, regulars) we ended up talking to an Australian couple for HOURS. I talked to the guy about Australian football alone for near an hour. I still get fussy when I think of how I should have asked for their contact information.
Note to readers: when you meet cool as heck strangers by chance on your adventures abroad, freaking get their contact info. If nothing else, they’ll be someone to appreciate a random as anything postcard from Houston, no?

The point of this all being: If you’re in Paradise on Earth (Madrid), go smoke shisha/xixa/hookah (might I suggest the mint flavour) at Yambala. Drink the cocktail called Hurucan. Chat up the bar tenders (they’re some of the easiest to get along with guys in the city). Enjoy the coolness of sitting on a floor cushion.