Mural con jirafas

Barcelona is a city of scars. You see them everywhere if you look up—those giant, windowless 'paredes medianeras' or party walls that stand like exposed ribs where a building was torn down or never finished. For decades, these were just grey, depressing voids. Then came the 'Barcelona, posa’t guapa' campaign, a municipal attempt to put some makeup on the urban blight. Most of it is forgettable. But then there is the Mural con jirafas on Carrer dels Enamorats.

Standing at the corner of Carrer dels Enamorats and Carrer de València, you aren't in the polished, postcard-perfect version of the Eixample. This is a neighborhood of hardware stores, old-school bakeries, and people who actually have somewhere to be. It’s the kind of place where the air smells like diesel and toasted flour. And there, looming over a residential block, are two massive giraffes. They aren't cartoonish or cute. They have a strange, silent dignity, peering over the edge of the building as if they’ve just discovered a particularly interesting species of human walking below.

The real story here, the one that gives this wall its soul, is the man who painted it: Miquel Fuster. Fuster wasn't some trendy street artist with a marketing degree and a brand deal. He was a comic book illustrator who painted this mural in 1989, just as he was beginning a fifteen-year period living on the streets of Barcelona and battling alcoholism. While his later redemption came through his graphic novels, this wall stands as a testament to his talent before the city swallowed him whole. When you look at the linework, the texture of the giraffes' coats, and the way they seem to inhabit the space, you’re seeing the hand of a man who knows what it’s like to be overlooked.

Visiting the Mural con jirafas isn't about checking a box on a 'top ten' list. There are no ticket booths, no velvet ropes, and no gift shops selling miniature plastic giraffes. It’s just you and the wall. You stand on the sidewalk, dodging locals with shopping carts, and you look up. The scale is jarring. It forces you to stop, if only for a second, and acknowledge that even in the most utilitarian corners of a city, there is room for something beautiful and completely unnecessary.

A thorough restoration in 2021 scrubbed away the decades of city grime and sun-bleached fatigue, returning the giraffes to their original, vibrant glory. It looks sharp now, a permanent and well-tended resident of the Eixample. It’s a reminder that the best things in a city are often the ones you stumble upon when you aren't looking for them. It’s about the intersection of high art and the mundane reality of a Tuesday afternoon.

If you’re the kind of traveler who needs a guided tour and a headset to tell you what to think, don't bother. But if you appreciate the grit, the history of a man who fought his way back from the brink, and the sheer absurdity of African megafauna in a Catalan residential district, then take the walk. It’s a ten-minute detour from the Sagrada Família, but it feels like a different world entirely. It’s honest, it’s free, and it’s a hell of a lot more interesting than another overpriced souvenir shop.