Merbeyé Cocktail Bar

To get to Merbeyé, you have to leave the humid, frantic mess of the Gothic Quarter behind and start climbing. You head north, past the wide boulevards of Eixample, up into the thin air of Sarrià-Sant Gervasi, where the streets get steeper and the bank accounts get significantly larger. This is the 'Upper Diagonal,' the part of Barcelona that doesn't care about your backpack or your travel itinerary. You end up at Plaça del Doctor Andreu, right at the foot of the Tibidabo Funicular, and there it is—a low-slung building that looks like it’s been holding onto a secret since 1977.

Walking into Merbeyé is like stepping into a time capsule lined with red velvet and dimly lit by the ghosts of Barcelona’s transition years. It’s a shrine to a specific kind of cool that doesn't exist anymore. If you’re a fan of Spanish rock, you know this place because Loquillo sang about it in 'Cadillac Solitario.' It’s the kind of bar where you expect to see a disgraced poet arguing with a beautiful woman over a gin and tonic at 2:00 AM. The interior is all dark wood, plush seating, and a piano that’s seen its fair share of late-night singalongs. It’s moody, it’s slightly arrogant, and it’s utterly unapologetic about its age.

But let’s be honest: you aren’t just here for the velvet. You’re here for the terrace. When you step outside, the city of Barcelona stops being a chaotic grid of traffic and noise and becomes a glittering, broken circuit board stretched out toward the Mediterranean. From this height, the Sagrada Família looks like a sandcastle and the Agbar Tower is just a glowing thumb on the horizon. It is, without hyperbole, one of the best views in the city. On a clear night, with a breeze coming off the mountain, it’s enough to make even the most jaded traveler shut up and look.

Now, the service. The 3.9 rating on Google isn't a mistake. This isn't a place where the staff will fawn over you or explain the 'notes' of your artisanal bitters. It’s a classic cocktail bar in the old-school Spanish sense. The waiters have seen it all, and they aren't in a hurry. You might wait for your drink. You might feel ignored. Embrace it. Order a 'copa'—a gin and tonic served in a massive balloon glass with enough ice to sink the Titanic—and settle in. The menu is a collection of greatest hits: patatas bravas that are crisp and spicy, croquetas that actually taste like jamón, and plates of Iberian ham that are sliced thin enough to see through. It’s not 'fusion' and it’s not 'reimagined.' It’s just food that goes well with booze and a view.

Is it a tourist trap? No. The tourists are all down on La Rambla getting ripped off for frozen paella. Merbeyé is for the locals who want to escape the heat, for the couples on a first date trying to look sophisticated, and for the old guard who remember when this was the center of the universe. It’s a bit pricey, and the 80s vibe might feel dated to some, but that’s the point. It’s a survivor. In a city that’s constantly reinventing itself for the next wave of visitors, Merbeyé stays exactly the same. It’s a place to sit, drink, and realize that the city below is beautiful, but it’s much better viewed from a distance with a cold glass in your hand.