I had a couple of bad first impressions of Barcelona that almost made me want to conclude the city was one big, loud, tourist theme park.
To kick off my flying-by-the-seat-of-my-pants trip around France in 2012, I took the
trenhotel from southern Spain to Barcelona and
spent a layover in the Catalan capital, intending to take a second night train to
Paris that evening. I checked off all the main sights in the old town: the cathedral, the Boqueria market, Santa María del Mar, the historical museum, the Picasso museum, even a rediscovered synagogue. However, due to a combination of poorly-announced commuter train delays and poor planning on my part,
I missed the night train to Paris by five minutes. Fortunately I was able to get a spot on the high-speed TGV leaving that morning
and find a bed at a seven-euro hostel nearby…ah, the glory days.
I returned to Barcelona a couple months later to attend a concert by the Icelandic band Sigur Rós on the top of Montjuïc hill. This weekend trip was all about the arts: in addition to music, I appreciated art at the Museu Nacional d’Art de Catalunya and the Joan Miró museum, and I also checked off
all seven of Antoni Gaudí’s scintillating buildings in Barcelona. But in between rushing from one museum to another Gaudí house,
something felt…lacking.
That winter I was back in Barcelona for a layover, this time on my way to Italy. But I arrived in the evening and had to get up at 4am to catch the airport bus, so my only memories of this trip involve threading a path through
the disorienting hellhole that is the Sants train station and wading through all the traffic and tourists in Plaça de Catalunya.
It wasn’t until June of 2015 that I realized Barcelona wasn’t so bad after all, but not for the reasons that most folks visit the city in droves. The neighborhood of
Gràcia, far to the north of the touristy core,
totally changed how I felt about Barcelona.