Plaça de Lola Anglada

Forget the Gothic Quarter. Forget the salt-crusted air of Barceloneta and the manicured hedges of the upper city. If you want to see the Barcelona that actually works for a living, you get on the L1 or the L4 and you head north until the tourists start to disappear and the apartment blocks start to climb. You end up in Nou Barris, specifically in the neighborhood of Porta, at a place called Plaça de Lola Anglada. It isn’t a grand park. It isn’t a 'must-see' on any glossy brochure. It’s a square—a slab of urban reality that serves as a quiet tribute to one of the most important, and often overlooked, women in Catalan history.

When you arrive, don’t expect a fountain that dances to Vivaldi. Expect concrete. Expect the rhythmic click of pigeons on the pavement and the low murmur of neighbors who have lived here since the days when this district was a battleground for basic dignity. Nou Barris has a history of resistance; it was built by migrants and workers who fought for every paved street and every streetlamp. This square is part of that hard-won urban fabric. It’s a place where kids kick a ball against a wall and old men sit on benches, watching the world go by with the kind of weary wisdom you only get from eighty years in the trenches of the periphery.

But why Lola Anglada? She was the soul of a different Barcelona. Born in 1892, she was a titan of illustration and writing, a woman who created the visual language of Catalan childhood in the early 20th century. She was the first woman to receive the Creu de Sant Jordi, but she was also a republican and a catalanist who found herself marginalized during the long, grey years of the Franco dictatorship. Naming this square after her in 2001 wasn't just a bureaucratic gesture; it was an act of reclamation. It’s a reminder that even in the toughest neighborhoods, there is a deep, abiding respect for the artists who kept the culture alive when it was dangerous to do so.

The square itself is modest. There are trees that offer a bit of shade during the brutal August heat, and the surrounding buildings are a patchwork of 20th-century functionalism. It’s a place for a cigarette and a moment of reflection, far from the 'vibrant energy' that PR firms love to talk about. Here, the energy is quiet. It’s the sound of a neighborhood breathing. You come here to see the un-Barcelona, the one that doesn't care if you take a photo or not. It’s a place that exists for the people who live here, and there is something deeply refreshing about that.

Is it worth the trek? If you’re on a three-day sprint to see the Sagrada Família and eat overpriced tapas, then no. Stay in the center. But if you’ve grown tired of the theme-park version of the city, if you want to sit in a place that feels honest and grounded, then yes. Grab a coffee from a nearby bar—the kind where the owner knows everyone’s name—and sit in the square. Think about Lola Anglada drawing her delicate characters while the world around her was changing, and think about the people of Nou Barris who built this city with their bare hands. This is the real deal. It’s not pretty, it’s not polished, but it’s real. And in a city that’s increasingly being sold off to the highest bidder, that’s worth more than a dozen Gaudí chimneys.