What would you call a bar that has an African theme, and by “African theme” I mean zebra skin seats, pictures of “natives”, Zulu spears and shields mounted on the walls, and a whole Colonial Rwandan vibe going on? Well, if you live in Barcelona, there’s only one name possible:

Maybe that’s a mistake? Maybe they didn’t mean Obama, the President of the United States?

Nope.

And it wasn’t just the life-sized statue of President Obama by the front door that was problematic, it was the life-sized statue of President Obama by the front door of this place.

So what did I do, confronted with this display of enormous disrespect and unpleasant racial stereotypes? Well, my brain kind of short circuited and I ordered their signature drink, The Obama.

It tasted like everything I hate about Europe. With gin.