chic&basic Habana Hoose Hotel

Walking down Carrer de l'Argenteria is a contact sport. It’s a narrow, stone-walled gauntlet in El Born where the scent of ancient dampness fights with the aroma of roasting coffee and the exhaust of delivery scooters. In the middle of this beautiful, chaotic mess sits chic&basic Habana Hoose. It shouldn't work. A hotel themed after pre-revolutionary Havana, filtered through a Scottish lens, shoved into a building that’s seen more history than most countries. But somehow, it does. It’s a middle finger to the beige, characterless boxes that usually pass for mid-range lodging.

The moment you step inside, the grey Catalan stone gives way to a riot of mint greens, dusty pinks, and tropical wallpapers. It’s like someone took a 1950s Cuban social club and gave it a Glasgow sense of humor. They call it 'Habana Hoose'—'hoose' being the Scottish word for house—a nod to the owners' heritage and a reminder that Barcelona has always been a port city, a place where cultures collide and leave behind something strange and beautiful. This isn't a place for people who want a pillow menu and a hushed, cathedral-like lobby. It’s for people who want to feel the pulse of the city through the floorboards.

Let’s talk about the 'basic' part of the name. They aren't lying. The rooms are designed with a surgical focus on what actually matters: a bed that won't ruin your back, a shower with enough pressure to blast away a day’s worth of Gothic Quarter grime, and enough style to make you feel like a character in a Graham Greene novel. Space is at a premium—this is El Born, after all—so don't expect to be doing yoga in your suite. You’re here to sleep, wash up, and get back out into the fray. The rooms are clever, though, using mirrors and light to fight off the claustrophobia of the narrow medieval streets outside.

The heart of the operation is the Hoose Bar. In a city where 'hotel bar' usually means overpriced gin tonics and sadness, this place actually has a pulse. They take their coffee seriously—specialty grade, pulled by people who know the difference between a flat white and a mistake. By night, the rum comes out. It’s the kind of spot where you can sit by the window and watch the parade of humanity—the fashionistas, the confused tourists, the locals who still refuse to be displaced—stream toward the Santa Maria del Mar church.

Is it perfect? No. If you’re a light sleeper, the sounds of the city—the late-night revelry, the early morning trash collectors—will find you. The elevators are small, and the stairs are a workout. But that’s the trade-off for living in the literal center of the world. You’re a three-minute walk from the Picasso Museum and thirty seconds from some of the best tapas bars in Europe. You aren't insulated from Barcelona here; you’re submerged in it.

This is a hotel for the traveler who understands that luxury is overrated but character is essential. It’s for the person who wants to wake up, grab a high-octane espresso, and step directly into the humid, history-soaked heart of the Ciutat Vella. It’s honest, it’s vibrant, and it’s unapologetically itself. In a world of hermetically sealed travel experiences, Habana Hoose is a breath of unfiltered, salty Mediterranean air.