Columbus Monument

Christopher Columbus stands on a 60-meter pedestal at the foot of La Rambla, pointing his finger toward... well, not the Americas. He’s pointing toward the sea, toward his supposed home of Genoa, or maybe just toward the horizon where the money used to come from. It’s a massive, iron-and-stone exclamation point at the end of Barcelona’s most famous street, built for the 1888 Universal Exhibition to remind the world that Spain once owned the map. It is the anchor where the city’s chaotic urban energy finally spills into the Mediterranean.

At the base of the monument, you’ll find the eight massive bronze lions that have become the unofficial mascots of the Port Vell. Every day, hundreds of tourists climb onto their backs for a photo, their bronze hides polished to a golden sheen by a million pairs of jeans. Surrounding the base are intricate reliefs depicting scenes from Columbus’s life—the kind of heroic, sanitized history you’d expect from the 19th century. It’s grand, it’s heavy, and it’s unapologetically imperial. Most people just snap a photo of the lions and keep walking toward the water, but they’re missing the real story hidden inside the column.

Inside that Corinthian pillar is a lift. And when I say lift, I mean a tiny, rattling metal cage that feels like it was designed for someone much smaller and much less claustrophobic than a modern human. It drags you up to the top, 60 meters above the pavement, through the hollow center of the iron structure. It’s a slow, mechanical ascent that makes you appreciate the engineering of 1888 while simultaneously questioning your life choices.

When the doors finally open at the top, you’re in the Mirador—a circular gallery so narrow that two people can barely pass each other without an awkward apology. But the view? That’s the payoff. This is one of the best things to do in Barcelona if you want to understand the city's layout. To the north, the chaotic ribbon of La Rambla stretches toward Plaça de Catalunya. To the south, the Mediterranean, the Mare Nostrum, shimmers with an indifferent blue. You can see the Gothic Quarter’s jagged rooftops, the industrial cranes of the port, and the green hump of Montjuïc. It’s a perspective of Barcelona you can’t get anywhere else, stripped of the street-level noise and the smell of fried dough.

Let’s be real: Columbus is a complicated figure. In a city that prides itself on its progressive, Catalan identity, a giant monument to a guy who sailed for the Castilian crown and kickstarted a few centuries of colonial messiness is a point of contention. There have been calls to tear it down or recontextualize it. But for now, he stays—a permanent fixture of the skyline and a reminder of the era when Barcelona was reinventing itself for the world stage.

Is the Columbus Monument worth visiting? If you want the 'big picture' of how the city meets the sea, yes. If you want to see the Sagrada Família from a distance without the crowds of Park Güell, this is your spot. Just don't expect a luxury experience. It’s cramped, it’s old, and it’s a bit rough around the edges. But that’s Barcelona. It’s a relic of an era that loved its heroes tall and its monuments heavy. Stay on the ground to pat a lion, or take the ride up to see the world as the explorers imagined it—vast, beautiful, and waiting to be exploited.