Barcelona in the 90s

Time for another retrospective post. Every so often, life throws you a curveball. I experienced one such moment in September 1990 while backpacking through Europe. My travel buddy Dean and I met a young man on the train. At the time, we were in transit from Switzerland to Barcelona. Weeks earlier, we’d made plans to travel through Spain, cross the Straits of Gibraltar, and explore as much of Morocco as possible.

The guy we met on the train was on his way to Monte Carlo to collect a super yacht and deliver it to Barcelona for his boss. We got to talking with him. He was impressed that Dean had spent several months sailing through the Coral Sea, while I’d spent a year working on a dairy farm, which made me a seasoned handyman. He extended an invitation for us to join his repositioning crew and spend a week, all expenses paid, sailing across the Mediterranean.

Dean and I debated his offer long and hard. It meant we’d have to forgo our plans for Morocco. In the end, we decided a week on a super yacht, while mind-blowing, was unlikely to be as exotic as a week in Morocco. We politely declined his offer and bade him farewell in Monte Carlo. After reading my retrospective posts about our time in North Africa, I think it was the right decision. Sadly, I’ve never been invited onto a super yacht again.

Our train arrived in Barcelona late in the evening. Most venues were closed. We made our way to a backpacker’s hostel located on a side street just off the city’s iconic La Rambla boulevard. The hostel was set into an old building, with flights of winding stairs that led to some rather uninspiring bunk rooms on its upper floors. The hostel's daily room rate also burned a hole in our hip pocket. However, the hour was late, so we decided to suck it up for the night.

The following morning, we found ourselves sitting at a table in a KFC planning our itinerary for the next few days. At the top of our agenda was finding a cheaper place to stay. An elderly African American man overheard our conversation. He asked us if we were looking for a place to stay. He offered to help us out. As a foreign national who’d lived in Barcelona for several years, he was keen to ensure we got to see the best his adopted city had to offer.

At first, we were a little dubious. However, he insisted he knew the perfect place to stay. Before we knew it, he’d led us down a rather dreary cobblestone street leading away from the La Ramblas. The buildings were old, everything was heavily shuttered and closed, and the street was all but empty. He took us to a modest pensione with balustrade balconies overlooking the desolate street. A passionate debate, in Spanish, ensued between him and the owner behind the reception desk.

Before we knew it, we’d been escorted to a first-floor room with French doors that opened onto one of the street-side balconies. Our newfound friend later explained that he’d convinced the reticent owner to rent us one of his "honeymoon suites" for two nights at a bargain price (or rather, that's how he translated the room's name). He then gave some helpful advice on what to see and where to go in Barcelona before wishing us well and continuing with his day.

Unbeknownst to us, our room overlooked Carrer d'en Rauric, one of the liveliest streets in the city's Gothic District. As darkness fell, the shutters came up, and before we knew it, the once lifeless street was soon filled with a crowd enjoying its lively bars, bustling cafés and busy stores. We sat on our minstrel balcony, soaking in the nightlife below and toasting our good fortune with some local Sangria.  

After some extensive Google Map sleuthing, I'm fairly sure we stayed at Hostal Fernado, or its predecessor in the same location. There's a pensione still operating there today, and I'm sure the balcony highlighted in the screenshot above is where we stayed. If you look closely at the photo I took of Dean sitting on the balcony, you'll notice there was a lingerie shop directly below us on the ground floor. It's long since gone!

We spent two full days exploring the best that Barcelona has to offer. This includes climbing a steep, winding footpath up Mont Juic, a parkland plateau overlooking the city and the Mediterranean coast. We decided to climb it to see the stadium that had hosted athletic competitions for the 1992 Summer Olympics.

However, the area’s most surprising highlight proved to be The Magic Fountain of Montjuïc. This incredible water feature is a dancing fountain containing more than 3000 jets, some of which send water soaring more than 50 metres into the air. After dark, the fountain entertains visitors with a dramatic display of synchronised lights and water jets.

As all good tourists do, we walked the length of La Rambla, people watching locals going about their daily business. The tree-lined pedestrian street is filled with plazas and parks, as well as street artists, stalls and vendors offering all kinds of snacks and trinkets.

Without a doubt, Sagrada Familia was the highlight of our time in Barcelona. It’s the largest unfinished Catholic church in the world and was designed by the Catalan architect Antoni Gaudí. Its construction began in 1882 and continues to this day. According to recent news reports, the building should officially be completed by 2034. Its tallest, and final, tower was completed in February this year. The building’s final height is now an impressive 172.5 metres.

When I first visited it in 1990, most of the building’s main structure was still under construction. At the time, only the Nativity façade, the Passion Façade and their accompanying steeples had been completed. The most recent of these steeples had only been completed three years earlier, in 1987. The central nave was still under construction, and only its outer walls were in place at the time. Installation of the central pillars and vaulted roof was still some years away.

However, the Nativity façade was still an impressive sight. It was built before work was interrupted by the Spanish Civil War in 1935 and bears the most original Gaudí influence. Gaudí was a unique artist. His work is a blend of Art Nouveau and Gothic styles, filled with obtuse angles and unbelievably ornate, somewhat abstract flourishes. I’d never seen anything like it before. Years later, I still love its whimsical florishes, such as a curious donkey's cameo appearance in Christ's nativity scene.

Dean and I also took time out to view some of Gaudí’s other iconic works around the city. This included the oddly angular and fluid façade of Casa Milà, and the Venetian mask-like balconies of Casa Batlló, a multi-story apartment block, and Park Güell, a hillside complex of parks and gardens filled with dramatic architectural elements.

After some Google searching, I discovered that the image above wasn’t taken in Park Güell as I’d originally thought. This sculpture of five leaping Gazelles stands in Ciutadella Park. It’s a tribute to Walt Disney, erected a few years after he died in 1966. The park was the city's first and only green space for decades following its creation in 1872. However, the park’s most famous sculpture is actually a giant stone-carved life-sized Woolly Mammoth. It seems this didn’t rate a mention in my photo album.

On 2 October 1990, Dean and I boarded our next Eurail train and headed south for Cordoba, the former heartland of the invading Moors. Our route took us south along the coast as far as Valencia, before turning inland. You can learn more about our time in Andalusia here.

One final note.  I've illustrated this post with a blend of scanned photos taken in 1990 and more recent photos from 2008, when Garry and I visited Barcelona for his 40th Birthday celebrations.