The backstreets of Barcelona

The mischievous, meandering mazes of Barcelona’s back alleys almost giggle with delight upon hearing the ring of the heels of new, unexpecting tourists on its cobbled stones. Elvish peals of laughter bounce off the narrow-walled corridors of the city. Rows and rows of streets snake into and away from each other, sometimes leading the unsuspecting to a gaping opening, exhibiting a dreamlike, architectural behemoth from another time. The cathedrals and gargoyles in the Gothic quarter loom down on tiny humans, staring up agape. The silent sentinels of the city.

Barcelona at night is a kaleidoscope of neon lights. Bars and restaurants dot the city, blaring all levels of bad taste music out into the streets. The siren song of the intoxicated. Luring calls from one-hit wonders, B-side cassette tape bands, forgotten melodies. These are the voices that call into the darkness, beckoning you in for one last drink. One for the road. Uno mas.

This melting pot of people from all over the world is still struggling with its own identity. Barcelona is the capital city of Catalonia and fought its way through the Moorish wars, fascist regimes, and the Reaper’s War with France to hold on to this esteemed title. Signs and names are written in Catalan, but most here are bilingual speakers of both Catalan and Spanish, another reminder of times past. Catalonia merged with Spain in 1469 but faced dire repression during the Fascist reign of Franco in the 20th Century. For almost 40 years, they were barred from democracy and from speaking or learning their own language. Catalonians regained autonomy in 1977, two years after Franco’s death. Since then, they’ve been fighting for their independence, and a separation from Spain, claiming that their taxes and financial input are the sole driving forces behind Spain’s economy.

Barcelona invites you into its hedonistic world of debauchery. The street imps whisper in your ear to come closer, come explore. Everything your heart desires, you will find, and more. Let them take you in, twirl you around, and then spit you out. This two-headed amphisbaena will then let you go in two ways. You’ll leave its streets frothing at the bit for more, or taking that last cobble stoned step, not looking back, never to return.