After an overture of inner–city images presented in a documentary style, Barrio (Fernando León de Aranoa, 1998) begins in front of a travel agency. The three teenage male protagonists gaze in awe at the display window full of promotional materials for trips to exotic destinations, and they wonder about the possibility—in their case, impossibility—of traveling to the Caribbean, to Varadero, Cuba, for instance. Apparently, according to one of them, one of the major attractions of the Antillean destination is the certainty that such a trip will ineluctably involve “screwing” (“tirarse”) a “black chick” (“una negra”) in the midst of a crowded beach, because over there “everybody fucks everybody for free.” The cosmopolitan–named character, Rai, short for Rai(mundo), supports that statement, alleging that his brother has been there and has consummated the deed with no trouble whatsoever. As further proof of his knowledge of the matter at hand, he states the curious bioanthropological “fact” that black women have an extra bone in their spines, which allows them to “fuck so well” and to move their “asses” in a spectacular fashion when dancing; and if they don't believe him, he interjects, challenging one of his buddies, pray tell if his mother, who of course is not black, can dance like that. Nonetheless, and in spite of the assuredness of his argumentation, Rai's pal is not altogether convinced of the veracity of his friend's contention and he replies, “Your brother has seen all that in a movie, has told it to you, and you have swallowed the whole thing.”

Leon de Aranoa's film never clarifies if Rai's brother has indeed traveled to the Caribbean or if the tale of his erotic exploits over there is really true, but it is evident, as the most skeptical of the three young heroes suspects, that Spanish cinema at the time might easily have fueled his travel fantasies. Released three years earlier, the film Maité (Carlos Zabala and Eneko Olasagasti, 1995) told the story of two Basque entrepreneurs who journeyed to Cuba and evinced once again the image of the Spanish traveler joyfully surrounded or dutifully followed by an entire cohort of obliging Caribbean beauties.