Fanal Avinguda Gaudí

Most people walking down Avinguda Gaudí are doing one of two things: staring back at the melting stone of the Sagrada Família or marching toward the tiled domes of Hospital de Sant Pau. They’re usually dodging selfie sticks and overpriced 'artisan' gelato. But if you look up—really look up—you’ll see six wrought-iron sentinels that have seen more of this city’s drama than any tour guide. These are the Fanals of Avinguda Gaudí, and they are beautiful, jagged survivors of a Barcelona that almost got paved over.

Designed in 1906 by Pere Falqués i Urpí—the same guy who gave Passeig de Gràcia those famous white-tiled benches—these streetlights weren't originally meant for this tourist gauntlet. They used to stand at the intersection of Passeig de Gràcia and Diagonal, a spot known as the 'Cinc d'Oros' (the Five of Gold) because the arrangement of the lamps looked like the five-of-coins card in a Spanish deck. But by 1957, the city’s urban planners decided these modernist relics were 'obstructing traffic.' In the mid-century rush to make everything faster, flatter, and more boring, the lamps were dismantled and tossed into a warehouse to gather dust. It wasn't until 1985, when Avinguda Gaudí was pedestrianized, that someone had the sense to bring them back out into the light.

Standing on heavy stone bases, the ironwork is a raw, jagged showcase of the Modernisme style. It’s aggressive, organic, and deeply Catalan. The metal twists and curls like frozen smoke, topped with the city’s coat of arms and a crown. They don't make things like this anymore because it’s too expensive, too difficult, and requires too much soul. In a world of IKEA-flatpack urban furniture, these things are a middle finger to the temporary. They were built to last forever, even if the city government didn't always want them to.

The walk along Avinguda Gaudí itself is a bit of a trip. It’s a diagonal slash through the rigid grid of the Eixample, connecting two UNESCO World Heritage sites. On one end, you have Gaudí’s fever dream; on the other, Lluís Domènech i Montaner’s sprawling hospital complex. The streetlights act as the connective tissue. When the sun goes down and the orange glow hits the wrought iron, you can almost ignore the smell of frozen pizza from the nearby tourist traps. It’s a moment of genuine, old-world Barcelona grit and elegance.

Is it worth a dedicated trip? Maybe not if you’re only in town for twenty-four hours. But if you’re visiting the Sagrada Família—and let’s be honest, you are—don't just tick the box and leave. Walk the avenue. Touch the cold stone of the bases. Look at the detail in the iron that some blacksmith sweated over a century ago. It’s a reminder that even in the most crowded, commercialized parts of the city, there are still pieces of the real Barcelona hiding in plain sight. It’s free, it’s honest, and it doesn't require a reservation or a QR code. Just a pair of eyes and a bit of respect for the ghosts of the Cinc d'Oros.