Hotel Indigo Barcelona - Plaza Catalunya by IHG

Let’s be honest: Gran Via is a cacophony. It’s a six-lane artery of exhaust, honking taxis, and the relentless hum of a city that never quite figures out how to sleep. But step through the doors of the Hotel Indigo Barcelona - Plaza Catalunya, and the volume drops. You aren’t in a sterile corporate box; you’re in a space that’s been aggressively, almost obsessively, Gaudí-fied. It’s a boutique hotel that actually remembers which city it’s in.

This isn’t the kind of place where you’ll find beige walls and sad landscape prints. Every one of the 77 rooms is a love letter to Catalan Modernisme. We’re talking massive, floor-to-ceiling murals of Casa Batlló or the Sagrada Família looming over your headboard. It’s bold, it’s colorful, and it’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative. If you’re smart—or just lucky—you’ll land one of the rooms at the back with a private sun terrace. There, you can sit with a Nespresso, look out over the interior courtyard, and realize that this is the real Eixample: the hidden lungs of the city tucked behind the grand facades.

The rooms themselves are tight—this is Barcelona, after all—but they’re smart. You get the Rituals toiletries that actually smell like something, a minibar that doesn’t feel like a shakedown, and a rain shower that can wash away a day’s worth of RAMBLA-induced grime. If you need to work, there’s a desk, but you shouldn’t be working. You should be downstairs.

Let’s talk about the pool. It’s small. Let’s call it a 'plunge' and be done with it. In the height of a July heatwave, when the humidity is thick enough to chew, that little blue square on the terrace is a godsend. It’s surrounded by cabana beds and lounge chairs where you can nurse a gin and tonic and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. It’s intimate, slightly tucked away, and exactly what you need after battling the crowds at the Boqueria.

For food, you’ve got Reversible. It’s the hotel’s signature restaurant, and unlike most hotel joints that serve 'international' mush, Chef Victor Alfageme is actually doing the work here. Order the Bomba de la Barceloneta—a crispy potato and meat bomb that’s a staple of the local diet—or the Reversible braves. The paella of shrimp and squid is legit, and the steak tartar is seasoned with enough conviction to make you forget you’re technically in a lobby. It’s honest Spanish cooking that doesn’t feel like a tourist trap.

The location is the real closer. You’re four minutes from Plaza Catalunya, which means the Aerobús from the airport drops you practically at the front door. You’re a stone’s throw from Passeig de Gràcia’s high-end madness and a short walk from the Gothic Quarter’s labyrinth. You are, for better or worse, in the absolute heart of it.

Is it perfect? No. The gym is modest, and if you’re on a lower floor facing Gran Via, you might hear the city’s heartbeat more than you’d like. But for the traveler who wants the reliability of a big brand with the soul of a local boutique, this is a win. It’s a place that respects the history of the neighborhood while giving you a comfortable, stylish place to crash when the city finally wears you out. It’s Barcelona without the bullshit.