The Monopoly of Chinatown: Testimonies of Barcelona's sexuality during the Transition

BarcelonaCan you imagine that today, in 2026, at a newsstand or a Good Coffee shop, amidst the array of magazines, collectibles, tourist guides, city maps, trading cards, and toys—newspapers still clinging to a corner—you could buy a board game to beat in a row, a game designed to stimulate the user, instead of encouraging them to wander through the Raval district to solicit sex, dodge pimps' knives, and pay to avoid contracting syphilis? Can you imagine that today, in 2026, you could find an erotic guide to Barcelona there, showing you the best areas and establishments to find prostitutes? Well, that, which seems like science fiction, was a feasible reality in Barcelona in the late seventies and early eighties.

The current comprehensive renovation of La Rambla is stirring up memories for many Barcelonans who experienced the so-called "rogue Rambla" of the Transition and pre-Olympic years. Memories associated with the enduring myth of Ocaña and Nazario, Plaça Reial, the Café de la Ópera, and Barcelona by Night. Memories of the nearby Paral·lel with its theaters, revues and cabarets, striptease, the Bagdad and the New York. The Transition years when the "Destape" (unveiling) triumphed, that cinema in which actresses were made to undress because it was the height of modernity, because what better than breasts and thighs to irrefutably demonstrate that Spain was emerging from four decades of oppression? Today, this narrative is more than just questionable. Many of these actresses explain that this supposedly progressive system took advantage of them to make money – thousands of citizens filled the cinemas and bought the magazine Interview- in droves, and then, once the boom had passed, they were left lying on the side of the road, with no possibility of reintegration—however harsh the word may sound—into Spanish cinema in the following decades.

This interpretive context is essential to understanding today the two pieces we are rescuing from the trunk of memories. Two pieces that, like all objects, possess memory. Historical memory, if I may be so bold with such a sensitive, recently coined concept. The board game is called El Chino. Like Monopoly, yes, the comparison is more than appropriate, consisting of a route through Chinatown to overcome challenges and accumulate properties. Today, almost no one calls it that in Barcelona's Raval district, but in the years we are discussing, this was the general name.

The game's mechanics are bizarre and include visits to brothels, knife fights, the purchase of condoms and hormones, and the transmission of sexually transmitted diseases. The game instructions are a litany of political incorrectness and outlandish language such as so-and-so-women, syphilis, knife-wielders and transvestitesThe devastating AIDS epidemic had not yet arrived. Otherwise, they certainly wouldn't have missed the opportunity to use the adjective. AIDSWith a humorous tone, it breaks down the workings of the tests, steeped in the frivolity typical of a bygone era when there was practically no awareness of the lack of protection for sex workers, nor of how degrading the then-labeled "oldest profession in the world" was and still is, nor of the dangers of romanticizing the underclass. The game also touches on issues such as public life, drugs—drug dens are still a deeply entrenched problem today—and the absence of quality public services. It's worth noting that the game was published and marketed by Makoki, a fundamental Barcelona publication forever associated with the world of comics. underground, who, from the counterculture and unofficial circles, worked tirelessly to promote and popularize the art of comics. He even had his own shop in Plaça del Pi, where his publications could be bought, and also, of course, El Chino.

If we look at the so-called Erotic and entertainment guide mapThe stimuli are more or less similar, as are the conclusions we can reach. Published in 1979 by a Barcelona-based company called EDDIS, it offers a comprehensive range of recreational activities, primarily focused on those of a sexual nature. The cover page is also written with a suggestive double entendre: "My desire is to guide you to where you can satisfy your most special desires. I will show you all kinds of entertainment venues, with the best amusements and shows, and some with something special." The guide recommends specific establishments under headings such as Nightclubs, Bingo Halls, Cabarets, Girls, Gay Scene, and Female Escorts. Under Girls, it details five areas of the city, both on the street and in establishments: Chinatown, La Rambla, Rambla Catalunya, Avenida de Sarrià, and Calvo Sotelo-Buenos Aires. The sheer variety of "female escort" establishments is quite telling. There are a couple of hundred of them. This would include everything from the most traditional brothels to whiskeries, the so-called "American bars" and also the thankfully extinct establishments of top less, consisting of bars with waitresses topless, their torsos bare, showing their breasts to customers.

As a way of bonus trackIt's worth remembering that until just four days ago, personal ads could still be found in mainstream newspapers. It's not unreasonable to lump them together, to place them in the same semantic field as the two objects discussed in this article. Many years later, in Barcelona in 2026, it's harder to find these kinds of playful and advertising platforms. But it's far from a city free of inequality, marginalization, and the sex trade. Prostitution venues, some more legal than others, some hidden or clandestine, still exist. And they were quite full, in fact, during the recent Mobile World Congress. The advertising is different, but the hypocrisy persists.