Over eight decades in a privileged spot in Cadaqués have a  lot on offer: Dalí docking his boat directly on the terrace of Marítim Bar and Duchamp seeking new opponents to play chess with after beating the regulars in Meliton; Kirk Douglas and Yul Brynner having a beer making the most of a break in the filming of The Light at the Edge of the World; spending time with unmissable authors such as Richard Hamilton and Lanfranco Bombelli; discovering hidden aspects of contemporary art with artists such as Alfredo Jaar, Antoni Muntadas, Max Bill and Tacita Dean; desecrating the secret life of writers like García Márquez and Vargas Llosa (Josep Pla did it himself); discovering, with fascination, that the figure of Jesus imagined by Pasolini (The Gospel according to St. Matthew) was not the son of God but it was Enrique Irazoqui, a regular Marítim Bar customer and an essential character on the Marítim’s terrace which wouldn’t have been the same without him... 

It has been almost a century of stage appearances in this bar, so  much that it is impossible to take them all in, unless, of course, you try the way in which Pere Figueras (Cadaqués, 1921) has always enjoyed, slowly, like one should enjoy life or a unique cocktail. Whatever the case may be, do not try to do it at home because it would take you 80 years and, in addition, most of the ingredients are impossible to find. You would need an almost untouched fishing village; a civil war (preferably not too long); an army of artists, writers, musicians, actors and anonymous and unclassifiable characters (all of them eager for sun, moon and conversation); a coarse-grain sandy beach (or with very small pebbles); the classic gauche divine that would be, as the photographer Xavier Miserachs used to say, a “unique blend of political and intellectual character, whiskey and Bocaccio”; and the most subtle but crucial ingredient (like a few drops of angostura or tabasco): men like Pere Figueres and Hug Malla, ‘bartenders’ who can shake the shaker with energy, something which, in amateur hands, could end up a devastating bomb. Needless to say, the proportions of each ingredient (and many other ingredients that escape us) constitute a secret that has obtained the category of mystery over the years. 

Right then: Marítim Bar is a unique cocktail. The good news is that  eighty years after its opening (on Saint James’ day in 1935), it can still be tasted under the same conditions as the first day thanks  to the patient restoration promoted by Hug Malla (the grandson of Pere Figueres, historical owner) and carried out, sensibly and meticulously, by the interior designer, Jordi Vayreda. “The idea —says Malla, who has been the manager of the legendary bar in Cadaqués for two years— was to bring back its original appearance, designed by Sagalà [architect] while adapting it to the needs of contemporary cuisine. Hence I talk about restoration rather than renovation: as if it were an old painting (Hug Malla is also an art historian as well as managing a gallery), we have removed layers of varnish...”. The result is flawless, it seems to honour the famous lines by Foix: “M’exalta el nou i m’enamora el vell” (I exalt the new and am in love with the old). 

Just ask Pere Figueras (Cadaqués, 1921). From his watchtower  (“the tallest house in Cadaqués”) he recalls, with the right dose of satisfaction and a pinch of nostalgia, the beginning of everything: At the age of fourteen, I was the errand boy. I used to spend the day back and forth: grind coffee in the warehouse, now chop ice to make ice cream, then go get bottles... I had fun while working. That’s him: Pere Figueras still retains the strength and temperance of an incorruptible long-distance swimmer who was able to burn a forest down (just “a small plot between Roca Mar and Sa Conca”) to save his winged pet (a hoopoe that was never caged), and dive into the sea from the cliff Sa Cova dels Capellans, without thinking twice, to rescue a baby hawk that Tramontane had blown into the water (for eight or nine years, this predator took the place that the fire, and a fateful miscalculation, left vacant). 

A life lesson: take it as it comes. The Pere Figueras’ ability to  objectify reality passing it through the filter of common sense is extraordinary. The Civil War? —He asks while answering our question— Well while it lasted we were closed, and when the war ended we opened again. Even more: Tourists? There have always been tourists. Everyone called by here and they were all equal: García Márquez would come to have a cremat (rum-based hot beverage) with Carme Balcells [editor], and so would Josep Pla, who used to have a carajillo (coffee with liquor) with Pujol rum, which he liked a lot and used to ask about the cattle... We never talked about politics! This must be one the Marítim’s secrets for its success: it was a meeting place and a catalyst for sensitivities beyond eras and trends. Hippies? I have always been a hippy! —exclaims Figueras, rejuvenated—. Over this period, I lived with very different people. 

They only had to be good people. The formula? The Marítim was a  republic in Franco times and has never ceased to be. No need to think about it too much: the magic of the place can only be understood in the evening, sitting, like the author of One Hundred Gent de Casa Locals Years of Solitude, “around one of those iron tables with iron chairs, where only six could barely fit and there would be twenty of us sitting...” 

Where else? “In the Marítim, the crowded and squalid gauche  divine bar in the twilight of Francoism”. Perhaps this is why Salvador Dalí always chose to get there by boat, and perhaps this is also why Rosa Regàs worries that nobody “walks around with jugs or butane bottles on their heads anymore, nor do fishermen kill time in Marítim Bar smoking ropey cigars and drinking coffee with rum”: times have changed, but the Marítim remains at the forefront of Cadaqués.//