Plaça Kennedy

Plaça Kennedy is not the kind of place where you go to find peace and quiet. If you’re looking for a manicured garden where you can meditate on your sins, keep walking. This is a node, a junction, a high-altitude staging ground where the long, straight-line ambition of Carrer de Balmes finally hits a wall and starts climbing toward the heavens. It is the literal and metaphorical gateway to Tibidabo, sitting at the edge of the Sarrià-Sant Gervasi district, where the air starts to get a little thinner and the apartment prices get significantly fatter.

For decades, this square was defined by the clatter of the Tramvia Blau, the historic blue tram that would ferry tourists and locals alike up the steep incline of Avinguda del Tibidabo. These days, the tram is a ghost, sidelined for 'renovations' that seem to have no end date, replaced by the unceremonious hum of the 196 bus. But the soul of the place remains anchored by the architecture. Dominating the square is La Rotonda, also known as the Torre Andreu. It’s a modernist fever dream that nearly met the wrecking ball. Built at the turn of the 20th century, it’s served as a luxury hotel, a hospital, and eventually a derelict shell before being restored to its current, somewhat corporate, but still striking glory. The mosaic-covered dome sits there like a sentinel, reminding everyone that even in a city obsessed with the new, the old bones still have something to say.

Standing in the center of the plaza, you feel the friction of Barcelona. Below your feet, the FGC trains are screaming into the Avinguda Tibidabo station, the terminus of the L7 line. Above ground, it’s a swirl of activity. You’ve got the local bourgeoisie walking dogs that cost more than your car, students from the nearby private schools grabbing a quick smoke, and confused tourists clutching maps, wondering where the hell the vintage tram went. It’s a place of transit, a liminal space where you’re either coming from the center of the city or heading up to the amusement park and the Sagrat Cor church that looms over everything like a gothic wedding cake.

If you’re smart, you don’t just pass through. You grab a seat at one of the terraces lining the square. The service at these spots can be indifferent—bordering on hostile if you don't speak the language—but that’s part of the charm. This isn't Las Ramblas; they don't need your business that badly. Order a vermut, get a plate of olives, and watch the theater of the street. It’s one of the best spots in the city to observe the 'Upper Diagonal' lifestyle in its natural habitat. There’s a specific kind of Barcelona energy here—a mix of old-world elegance and functional chaos.

Is it a 'must-see'? Probably not in the traditional sense. There are no fountains to throw coins into, and no souvenir shops selling plastic bulls. But if you want to understand how the city actually works—how it moves, how it breathes, and how it transitions from the dense urban grid to the sprawling estates of the hills—Plaça Kennedy is the place to do it. It’s honest, it’s noisy, and it’s unapologetically itself. It’s the last stop before the mountain, and in a city that’s increasingly being turned into a theme park, that kind of authenticity is worth the price of a metro ticket.