Espai Ulises

You’re walking down Avinguda de Roma, a stretch of Eixample that feels more like a transit corridor than a dreamscape. It’s all grey pavement, the hum of commuters, and the functional architecture of a city that’s busy doing something else. Then you find number 151. You step inside Espai Ulises, and the 21st century just stops. It’s like someone took a 1920s Parisian salon, injected it with a dose of modern Catalan soul, and draped the whole thing in enough velvet to muffle a riot. This isn't your typical 'best cabaret Barcelona' experience designed for busloads of tourists; this is something far more intimate, far more strange, and infinitely more interesting.

The heart of the operation is a man named Xavi. In a world of corporate hospitality and scripted 'welcome' lines, Xavi is the real deal—a host who actually gives a damn if you’re having a good time. He’s the ringmaster, the soul, and the primary reason this place has a perfect five-star rating. He treats the space not as a venue, but as his own private living room, provided your living room is filled with theatrical props, gold-leaf accents, and a sense of impending magic. When people talk about 'things to do in Eixample' that don't involve staring at a facade, this is the top of the list.

The main event here is 'The Glamour.' Don't expect the sanitized, high-production-value-but-zero-soul spectacles you find on the Las Vegas strip or even some of the bigger stages on Paral·lel. This is immersive theater in Barcelona at its most visceral. The stage is close—sometimes uncomfortably close—which is exactly how cabaret should be. You should be able to see the sweat on the brow of the performer, the fraying edge of a sequined glove, the genuine spark in the eye. The decoration is a character in itself: a maximalist explosion of mirrors and vintage aesthetics that makes you feel like you’ve been invited to a secret society meeting where the only rule is to leave your cynicism at the door.

What makes Espai Ulises work is the lack of pretension. It’s glamorous, yes, but it’s an honest kind of glamour. It’s the kind of place where the drinks are poured with a heavy hand and the laughter feels earned rather than prompted. It’s a cultural excavation of what nightlife used to be before everything became a 'content opportunity' for social media. You come here to lose yourself for a few hours in the music, the stage production, and the sheer charisma of the performers. It’s a reminder that the best parts of Barcelona are often hidden behind a nondescript door on a street you’ve walked past a dozen times.

Is it for everyone? No. If you want a quiet night with a predictable menu and a 9 PM bedtime, stay at your hotel. But if you want to see what happens when someone with a vision and a lot of red fabric decides to create a temple to the performing arts in the middle of a residential block, get a ticket. It’s a protein rush for the imagination, a clean high of greasepaint and glitter that stays with you long after you step back out onto the cold, grey pavement of Av. de Roma. This is the Barcelona that still has a pulse, beating loud and fast in a small room in Eixample.