Plaça de Meguidó

If you’re looking for the Barcelona of postcards—the sun-drenched balconies of the Eixample or the winding, postcard-perfect alleys of the Gòtic—you’ve taken the wrong metro line. Get off at Mundet, climb the steep incline toward the shadows of the Collserola hills, and you’ll find yourself in Montbau. This is the unvarnished, functional heart of the city, and Plaça de Meguidó is its quiet, concrete soul. It’s a place that doesn’t give a damn about your Instagram feed, and that’s exactly why it’s worth the trek.

Plaça de Meguidó isn't a 'park' in the sense of rolling green lawns and manicured flower beds. It is a product of the mid-20th century, a piece of the 'Polígon de Montbau'—a social housing project that actually worked. The architecture here is rationalist, bordering on brutalist, designed for living, not for looking at. The square itself is named after the ancient city of Megiddo in Israel, a nod to a twinning relationship that feels strangely poetic in this high-altitude residential enclave. You won't find a gift shop here. You won't find a guy selling overpriced mojitos. What you will find is the sound of a lone football bouncing against a stone wall and the low murmur of retirees who have sat on these same benches since the 1960s.

In the center of the square stands the 'A Meguidó' monument, a sculpture by Casamajó installed in 1999. It’s a blocky, symbolic piece of work that fits the neighborhood’s aesthetic perfectly: solid, grounded, and devoid of unnecessary flourish. To understand this place, you have to understand the history of Horta-Guinardó. This was where the city expanded when it ran out of room in the valley. It was built for the workers, the families, and the students of the nearby Mundet campus. There is a sense of dignity in the straight lines and the weathered concrete that you just don't get in the tourist-clogged center.

Walking through Plaça de Meguidó feels like being let in on a secret, though the locals aren't trying to hide anything—they’re just busy living. The air up here is noticeably cooler, scented with the pine trees of the nearby mountains rather than the exhaust of tour buses. It’s a transitional space where the urban sprawl finally starts to lose its grip and give way to the wilder slopes of the Serra de Collserola. If you sit long enough, you’ll see the rhythm of the barrio: the frantic rush of students heading to the University of Barcelona campus, the slow-motion choreography of the afternoon stroll, and the sharp, echoing shouts of kids playing in the shadows of the apartment blocks.

Is it 'beautiful' in the traditional sense? Probably not. But it is honest. It represents a Barcelona that hasn't been sanitized for your protection. It’s a reminder that a city is more than its monuments; it’s a collection of neighborhoods where people grow up, grow old, and ignore the spectacular views of the Mediterranean because they’ve seen them every day of their lives. If you’re the kind of traveler who finds beauty in the mundane and the authentic, Plaça de Meguidó is a necessary pilgrimage. It’s a palate cleanser after the sugary excess of Gaudí—a shot of bitter espresso in a world of caramel macchiatos.

Come here when the sun is starting to dip behind the mountains. The light hits the concrete in a way that makes the whole neighborhood glow with a strange, industrial warmth. Grab a cheap beer from a nearby corner store, find a bench, and just watch. You aren't a tourist here; you’re a ghost in someone else’s living room. And in a city as crowded as Barcelona, that’s a rare and precious feeling.