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About Bilbao

Look, findin’ a pro – it’s easy if you ain’t dumb. Hit the backstreets, maybe near the docks, cash in hand – no cards, dipshit, they ain’t runnin’ Venmo. They’ll size you up quick, like Chas with his damn fire drills – “You good?” they ask. You nod, boom, deal’s done. But don’t be a gavone – haggle too hard, they’ll walk. One chick told me, “I ain’t your fuckin’ charity case,” – fair enough, I laughed.

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Street vibes? Calle de la Constitución buzzes like a secret, soft whisper at night. Walk it at dusk, and you'll catch the smell of adventure and aged leather – like a Bond flick, y'know, shaken, not stirred. Then there’s Calle San Antón – narrow, twisty, with surprises around every corner, kinda like life itself – unpredictable, raw, and oh-so-real.

Cyclist Egan Bernal breaks his collarbone in a crash during the Clasica Jaen race