La Terraza de Anna

Carrer d’Aragó is a six-lane river of exhaust and ambition, a relentless artery cutting through the heart of the Eixample. It is loud, it is grey, and it is exactly the kind of place you want to escape from. You find the door to the Room Mate Anna hotel, slip past the lobby, and hit the button for the top floor. When the doors slide open, the city’s cacophony is replaced by the hum of a DJ and the clink of ice against glass. This is La Terraza de Anna, and it’s a technicolor middle finger to the grey asphalt below.

Let’s be clear: this isn’t some dusty, century-old bodega where the floor is covered in sawdust and the wine tastes like vinegar. This is a curated experience. Designed by Lorenzo Castillo, the space is a riot of turquoise, whites, and bold patterns that feel more like a private Mediterranean villa than a hotel bar. It’s stylish, it’s intentional, and yes, it’s a little bit scene-y. But in a city that lives and breathes outdoors, a good rooftop is a form of urban salvation. You aren't just here for a drink; you’re here for the perspective.

The view is the main event, and it doesn’t disappoint. You’re perched just high enough to see the undulating, bone-like balconies of Gaudí’s Casa Batlló peeking out from the skyline. It’s a reminder that you’re in a city that once decided to let its architects go completely insane, and we’re all the better for it. As the sun begins to dip behind the Tibidabo mountain, the light hits the Eixample rooftops in a way that makes even the most jaded traveler reach for their phone.

But you can’t live on views alone. The menu here understands its role: it’s the supporting cast to the atmosphere. The cocktails are the heavy hitters. We’re talking well-balanced, punchy drinks that don’t skimp on the spirits. Whether it’s a sharp gin-based concoction or something fruit-forward and dangerous, they’re built for slow sipping while the DJ transitions from chill afternoon beats to something with a bit more teeth.

Then there’s the food. In a place like this, the kitchen could easily phone it in with some stale peanuts and overpriced olives. Instead, they serve up honest, elevated versions of the classics. The patatas bravas arrive with the right amount of crunch, slicked in a spicy oil and a rich alioli that demands a second order. The croquetas are creamy, the jamón is respectable, and the tuna tartare is fresh enough to remind you the Mediterranean is only a few miles away. It’s food designed for sharing, for picking at while you argue about where to go for dinner, or better yet, deciding to just stay right here and order another round.

Is it a tourist trap? No. It’s too well-executed for that. It’s a place where locals who know the value of a good breeze come to hide from the crowds on the Rambla. The service is professional—none of that weary indifference you find at the street-level cafes. They know why you’re here, and they’re happy to facilitate your descent into sunset-induced bliss. If you’re looking for the 'real' Barcelona of 1950, go find a basement in Raval. But if you want the Barcelona of right now—the one that’s stylish, breezy, and frankly, looks damn good—take the elevator up. The city looks better from here.