Palacio Vedruna

The Palacio Vedruna is a bit of a liar. From the sidewalk of Carrer de Pau Claris, it looks like exactly what you’d expect from the Eixample district’s golden age: a dignified, neoclassical facade built in 1883 for the Vedruna family, all stately stone and rhythmic balconies. It’s the kind of architectural respectability that suggests old money, quiet afternoons, and a complete lack of surprises. But step through those doors and the 19th century gets a sharp, modernist elbow to the ribs. This is the skin of a palace stretched over the skeleton of one of the city’s most ambitious luxury hotels, the Hotel Claris.

In 1992, while the rest of Barcelona was frantically scrubbing its streets for the Olympic spotlight, this place underwent a radical transformation. They gutted the interior, leaving only the historic shell, and dropped in a core of glass, steel, and high-concept design. It was a move that could have been a disaster—a soulless corporate takeover of a heritage site—but instead, it created something weirder and far more interesting. It’s a place where the air smells of expensive wood smoke and ambition, and where the ghosts of the Catalan bourgeoisie have to share space with business travelers and art collectors.

The real reason to walk in, even if you aren’t dropping half a month’s rent on a suite, is the art. The owner, Jordi Clos, is a man with a serious, high-stakes obsession with ancient Egypt. We’re not talking about a few dusty replicas in the lobby. The first floor houses a legitimate, museum-grade collection of over 400 pieces—funerary masks, statues of gods, and artifacts that have seen more millennia than you’ve seen hot dinners. It is the largest private collection of its kind in Spain, and finding it tucked away in a luxury hotel in the middle of Barcelona is the kind of jarring, beautiful non-sequitur that makes travel worth the hassle. It’s an archaeological flex of the highest order.

Then there’s the rooftop. In a city obsessed with 'terrazas,' the one atop the Palau Vedruna—La Terraza del Claris—is a different beast. It’s glass-enclosed, meaning you can watch the rain lash the Eixample rooftops while you sip something expensive and cold. It’s a place for the 'beautiful people,' sure, but it’s also one of the few spots where you can actually feel the scale of the neighborhood’s grid without being trampled by the crowds on Passeig de Gràcia. The service can be as chilly as the marble floors if you don't look the part, but that’s the price of admission for this kind of high-altitude theater.

Is it a tourist trap? No. It’s too strange for that. A tourist trap is predictable; the Palacio Vedruna is a neoclassical mask hiding a museum of the dead and a playground for the living. It’s an honest reflection of modern Barcelona: a city that respects its history enough to preserve the facade, but is far too restless to actually live in the past. If you’re looking for a dusty, quiet monument, keep walking. But if you want to see how the city’s elite blend high-culture archaeology with high-end hedonism, this is the spot. Just don't expect the mummies to tell you any secrets.