The Catalan capital is becoming a victim of its own success
By B.R.
THAT Barcelona is one of the great cities on Earth is something on which most people can agree. The architecture, the fiestas, the food—it is a city with vibrancy and soul. But, as a piece by Bloomberg nicely describes, it is on the horns of a tourism dilemma. The city’s mayor-elect, Ada Colau Ballano, is looking at ways to stop the influx of visitors because, she thinks, it is in danger of becoming overrun and turning into little more than a theme park.
She has a point. As any visitor can attest, the narrow Gothic streets behind Las Ramblas, a tree-lined shopping promenade, can feel like rush-hour on the tube; the must-see Gaudi sites tend to be well-hidden behind deep ranks of visitors slung round cameras; and at certain times of the year the beaches can be invisible under the quilted rectangles of towels.
It was not ever thus. Bloomberg quotes economists from Ca' Foscari University of Venice, who wrote in a 2008 paper that Barcelona had cleverly used the 1992 Olympics to its advantage, sparking urban renewal and putting itself "on the map of 'cool cities'". Back then, the economists described the city's "very positive image in the media and among cultural trendsetters". Now, Bloomberg says,
locals are complaining about everything from noise and litter to rising real-estate prices. In the Gràcia neighborhood, protesters recently occupied a building to prevent its conversion into a hotel. The seaside neighborhood of Barceloneta erupted in protests last summer over an explosion of short-term rentals that residents said were turning apartment buildings into 'youth hostels'. These neighborhood groups have found an ally in Colau, an activist who led protests over mass evictions after the collapse of Spain's real-estate market.
Bloomberg offers the cautionary tale of Venice, which has long since made the transition from living-and-working town to mere visitor attraction. Its population now stands at just 60,000 compared with around 2m who visit the town each year. This is, as the article acknowledges, something of a false comparison—Barcelona is Spain’s second-biggest city, with plenty of other industries and big suburbs. But it does speak to a tricky conundrum. Nearly all cities are sold on the idea of attracting tourists; many take extensive measures to lure them. But how can those cities turn the taps off when they become overrun?
When towns such as Barcelona are in danger of becoming victims of their own success, the best place to start is deciding which kind of tourists to keep. Both Barcelona and Venice are firmly on the cruise-ship circuit; perhaps a third of the visitors to the Catalan capital arrive on a large boat. For some cities, no doubt, they are an invaluable source of income. But for those perched at the brink of being overwhelmed, they seem like a good place to start the control. They are less valuable than other visitors because they don’t stay in hotels, and very often don’t even eat in restaurants. What is more, the vibe they give to a town is somewhat frantic. They, after all, arrive en masse with only a few hours to hoover up all the culture, architecture and shopping they can before moving on to the next stop on the itinerary. Perhaps it is time to intitiate cruise control.
Yet, even as he types these words, Gulliver realises he has speared himself on the horns of the dilemma that arises from thinning the hordes. As tourists, we hate it when our trips are spoilt by them. But we often don't recognise ourselves as part of that selfsame heaving mass. What cities need, we tell ourselves, are people like us, and not those we define as undesirable. The undesirables, meanwhile, are eyeing us with the same thought. Perhaps to make cities like Barcelona a better place for everyone, we should all consider sacrificing our own visits and find somewhere a bit more off the beaten track to ruin.
