Hotel Continental Barcelona

Walking into the Hotel Continental is like being slapped in the face by a very old, very eccentric aunt wearing too much rose-colored rouge. It is aggressively, unapologetically pink. We’re talking pink floral wallpaper, pink curtains, pink bedspreads—a decorative choice that feels less like a design trend and more like a fever dream from the late 19th century. But if you’re the kind of traveler who wants a sterile, glass-and-steel box with a generic scent profile, you’ve wandered into the wrong part of town. You come here because you want to breathe the same air George Orwell did when he was dodging sniper fire during the Spanish Civil War.

Located at the very top of La Rambla, right next to the Canaletes Fountain, this place is ground zero for the Barcelona experience. It’s loud, it’s crowded, and it’s pulse-pounding. The hotel has been run by the Malagarriga family for generations, and they’ve maintained a vibe that is increasingly rare in a city being hollowed out by corporate hospitality. This is a place with a soul, even if that soul is draped in heavy Victorian fabrics.

The big draw here—aside from the history—is the legendary 24-hour buffet. Let’s be clear: this isn’t a Michelin-starred spread. It’s functional fuel. We’re talking sandwiches, salads, pastries, and, most importantly, a self-service tap for beer and wine that never sleeps. In a city where a mediocre gin and tonic on a tourist terrace can cost you fifteen euros, having a 24-hour open bar included in your room rate feels like a beautiful, low-stakes heist. It’s the kind of perk that encourages you to sit on your balcony at 2:00 AM, nursing a cold San Miguel, and watching the human comedy of La Rambla unfold below you.

Speaking of the balconies, if you can snag one, do it. Yes, the street noise is a constant roar—a symphony of rolling suitcases, street performers, and the general clamor of Ciutat Vella—but that’s the point. You’re in the thick of it. You can see the Gothic Quarter to your left and the Raval to your right. You are perched above the most famous walkway in Spain, and from up here, the chaos looks like art.

The rooms themselves are... cozy. That’s real estate speak for small. They are old-fashioned, with furniture that has seen some history and bathrooms that might remind you of your grandmother’s house. But they are clean, and they have character. There is a sense of permanence here that you won’t find at the big chains. You’re staying in a building that has survived revolutions, wars, and the relentless tide of mass tourism, and it hasn’t changed its wallpaper for anyone.

Is it for everyone? Absolutely not. If you need a gym, a spa, and a pillow menu, keep walking. If you’re bothered by the occasional creak in the floorboards or the fact that the elevator feels like a vintage birdcage, you’ll be miserable. But if you want to stay somewhere that feels like a real place, somewhere with a story to tell and a free beer waiting for you at three in the morning, the Hotel Continental is a goddamn treasure. It’s a faded, pink, booze-fueled monument to an older, weirder Barcelona, and I hope it never changes.