Gibson Bar isn’t about trends, influencers, or fancy nonsense. It’s a place to sit, sip, and actually talk to people – no hashtags required. The music’s good, the drinks are honest, and the crowd’s a mix of locals, wanderers, regulars and the lost. Come alone if you like, you’ll always end up in conversation with someone who gets it. No velvet ropes, no cocktail theatrics. Just a proper drink, a laugh, and the kind of night that doesn’t need proving.

Bar Nicolás, not an average Palma pit stop – it’s where cocktails come with attitude and strangers turn into co-conspirators. It hums with that perfect mix of chaos and charm. The bartenders don’t do an awful lot of small talk, they are busy mixing elixirs with precision, not just drinks. The terrace catches the city’s pulse. Inside, the lights flirt with tourists curiosity. Most nights, you’ll find an easy mix of expats and the international crowd who somehow all know each other by last call.

Bar Alaska is pure Palma and what it used to be a long time ago – no gloss, no gimmicks, just history served with an ice cold beer and a wink. Sitting right on Plaça del Mercat since the 1930s, it’s the kind of spot where time hasn’t rushed. When the council tried to close it, 3020 people formally opposed it via a petition. By the way, one of the best terraces for people-watching under the shade of old trees. The drinks are simple, the prices fair, and part of the city’s cultural memory.

La Velo is for beer lovers. They keeps things real – small batches, very big flavours, and zero pretense. It’s where craft beer meets community without the hipster fuss. The tanks are on display, the taps rotate, and the crowd’s a friendly mix of locals and curious nomads. Expect bold brews, solid burgers, and the occasional experimental pint that actually works. It’s not polished, it’s alive – warm lights, laughter, and that steady hum of people who just like good beer done right. No slogans, no show, just honest brewing with character and heart.

El Vinho doesn’t shout to get your attention, really, it does not. Hidden on Carrer Joan Crespí, it’s a slice of Lisbon attitude tucked into Palma’s backstreets. The shelves are lined with Portuguese bottles you’ve probably never heard of. The food’s very simple, the mood unhurried, and the staff pour like they mean it. No glossy menus, no fake smiles – just honest wine served by the owners of the place, good company, and a quiet rebellion against the ordinary. Being unapologetically unpretentious is what makes it so authentic.

Agabar is hitting you with that kind of bar alchemy of smoke, salt, and soul. It is a love letter to agave in all its wild forms. The busy bar glows low and the bottles line the walls like trophies. Tequila, mezcal, lime, heat – every drink feels like a story told under golden neon haze. You might get messy guac on your fingers or lose track of time on the terrace, and that’s exactly the point. Its extensive selection of tequila, agave-based spirits, and inventive cocktails makes it a magnet for anyone chasing bold, unique flavours.

Bar Flexas doesn’t follow Palma’s rules – it drinks them under the table. Born in the 1940s and still kicking on Carrer de la Llotgeta, it’s equal parts dive bar, queer haven, and time warp. The walls sweat history, the crowd’s a glorious mess of artists, locals, dreamers, and night creatures. You’ll find drag shows, mismatched furniture, and drinks poured like nobody’s counting. Nothing about it is curated – it just is. Rough, loud, alive, and beautifully chaotic, Flexas isn’t chasing cool – it invented it, then spilled it all over the floor. Come as you are, stay until you forget.

Mirall Bar, playfully elusive inside Nobis Hotel Palma’s grand, nearly-a-millennium-old palace, the Bar throws a little elegance into the mix without losing its edge. With a soaring nine-meter ceiling, stone walls whispering history and tall lamps casting low light, it’s less “snug lounge” and more “vaulted cathedral of cocktails.”
The menu reads like local produce met high ambition – seasonal ingredients, inventive drinks, and a space that morphs from afternoon aperitif to late-night scene. If you’re after style that doesn’t scream, but smolders, this is the place.

Atomic Garden hums with attitude – part rock bar, part craft-beer temple, all character. On Santa Catalina’s lively backstreets, it glows under dim lights and movie posters that have seen a few stories. The taps pour local and imported brews with punch and personality, best enjoyed to a soundtrack of guitars and late-night laughter. The crowd’s a mash-up of regulars, nerds, nomads and beer geeks who know a good pour when they taste one. It’s gritty, loud, and honest – the kind of place where time blurs, music wins, and every glass feels like a small act of rebellion.