Barceloneta was born from a massive expropriation. In 1719, the first Spanish Bourbon, Philip V, recently installed on the throne, decided to convert a large part of the Ribera neighbourhood into a huge new-style barracks, the Ciudadela. To do so, he ordered the eviction and demolition of the homes of several hundred residents, mostly fishermen and artisans. Many of the victims of that urban upheaval were relocated to a strip of land taken from the sea decades earlier, the former islet of Maians.
There they lived, in huts and barracks, until, in 1754, following the plans of the military engineer Juan Martín Cermeño, a new neighbourhood was built, with a triangular layout, on the edge of the first docks of the port. The new colony was baptised as the Ostia neighbourhood, in honour of the maritime suburb of ancient Rome. Over time, it would house shipyards, metallurgical workshops, fish markets and a couple of sandy areas frequented, already in the 19th century, by devotees of the new European fashion of sea bathing. Then came mass migrations, industrialisation, urban development projects of the 20th century, the 1992 Games, the rise of mass tourism…
A street in Barceloneta where tourists and locals mingle.Jordi Adrià
The Barcelona coastline is going to host the thirty-seventh edition of the America’s Cup, one of the main sporting events on the international calendar, which is expected to create more than 18,000 direct jobs and have an impact on the local economy of around 1.115 billion euros. Beyond the splendid showcase there is a neighbourhood with its identity and traditions, surrendered to gentrification, voracious hospitality and tourist rentals, but which still drinks red wine from a jug, fishes for sea bass and crabs, practices ancient maritime sports or swims in open water.
This is a somewhat hidden Barceloneta. On a hot August day, the terraces on the main artery of the neighbourhood, the Paseo de Joan de Borbó, are a hive of tourists who drink mojitos and sangrias or devour patatas bravas. The restaurants on the seafront serve rice dishes at cruising speed, without the tuna and flamenco guitarists who, until not long ago, asked for tips between their tables. Reluctant nudists bathe on the beach of Sant Sebastià, between the statue of The wounded star, Rebecca Horn’s and Ricardo Bofill’s iconic Vela hotel (W Barcelona). Groups of casual visitors queue to take the cable car 45 metres above the port and land on the slopes of Montjuïc, the maritime mountain.
One of the pools where the open water group of the Club Natació Atlètic-Barceloneta trains from Monday to Thursday. Jordi Adrià
Very close to the cable car (whose tower we climbed to take aerial photographs of the fishing dock, which is under construction and has restricted access these days) we met up with one of the representatives of the genuine and semi-hidden neighbourhood. This is Daniel Ponce, a Valencian, graduate in Sports Sciences, coach of the open water swimming team of the Club Natació Atlètic-Barceloneta, founded in 1913. He says that the group of enthusiasts of all ages and levels that he coordinates trains from Monday to Thursday in an outdoor pool and goes swimming in the Mediterranean “almost every Saturday of the year”.
Ponce is an expert in extreme endurance swims, such as the 81-kilometre swim along the Ganges River, which he has participated in twice. This is a physical and mental test that, as he explains, leads you to “forget about your body and perceive time in a different way”. Much less demanding are the morning swims a kilometre from the shore that he shares with his team: “It is about rediscovering together the pleasures of swimming in the sea, rocked by the gentle Mediterranean waves”, with a clear desire for “personal improvement”, but also with a marked playful spirit. “The most advanced in the group end up competing in the open water swimming circuit. But that is not the only objective, nor even the primary one. What really matters is that each of the participants enjoys the experience and sets their own curve of effort and learning”.
Oleg, with his metal collector, on the beach of Sant Sebastià. Jordi Adrià
Near the place where Ponce and his group swim, we met Oleg, a barcelonauta an atypical person, who walks from one end of the beach to the other armed with a rudimentary metal detector, his own personal dowsing wand. With it he has rescued mobile phones from the sand, for which he usually receives small tips, coins and “some valuable objects, such as rings or silver bracelets”. Enough to earn, as he explains, a modest daily wage without having to end up “buried” in an office.
We cross the neighbourhood in a northerly direction and end up at the Marina dock, at the edge of Poblenou. The Barcelona Patí Vela Club is based there, one of the last bastions of this native sport that has been practised on this coast for over 100 years.
A Catalan boat sails a short distance from the Marina dock. Jordi Adrià
Rafel Figuerola, president and founder of the club, welcomes us to the workshop where they make their patines (small boats with a single sail, without a centerboard or rudder, like catamarans reduced to their essence) and invites us to come aboard a motorboat to the place where the participants of a children’s camp sail. “You only have to see it at sea to understand perfectly how it works,” he explains, “the children sail accompanied, in patines that are a little bigger than normal. In general, they are individual boats, and the skipper steers them using the weight of his body to change direction.”
The brand new Italian boat that will participate in the America’s Cup appears on the horizon. The instructor who serves as our guide on our improvised trip looks at it with admiration. Pure nautical avant-garde valued at millions of euros.
Back on land, we discussed with Figuerola a recent piece of news: there is an exodus of boats from Barcelona to ports in Girona and the Balearic Islands as a result of the increase in the price of moorings caused by the America’s Cup: “We offered to close the club between August and October,” replies this son of fishermen from Torredembarra, “but in the end it wasn’t necessary. We decided to go to the organizers of the Cup and talk to them about our sport. They liked us, and we can say that we have partnered with them and that we will organize our America’s Cup in September.”
A fisherman in the warehouse where the nets are kept at the Fishermen’s Guild of Barcelona.Jordi AdriàRafel Figuerola, president of the Club Patí Vela Barcelona, in the workshop where they make their boats. Jordi AdriàA neighbor watches the future of the neighborhood from his balcony. Jordi AdriàAntonio, skipper and veteran trawlerman, mends his nets on the Rellotge dock.Jordi Adrià
They will be the opening act for a major media event, but that does not distract them from the main point: “Here we make skates and teach how to ride them.” They are the apostles of a minority cult, reserved for those who truly love the sea: “I don’t think there is a nautical sport as cheap and accessible as ours. It began to be practiced in the maritime periphery of Barcelona and in the Maresme region in the 1920s, it was disappearing about 20 years ago and we have contributed to keeping it alive and giving it a new impetus. Now there are skating clubs in many cities in Spain and in places like Belgium, but our goal is to revive it, for example, in Mataró, one of the pioneer cities, where skating on the water stopped decades ago.”
Our last appointment is at the fishing quay in Plaça del Rellotge, a picturesque spot where the Barcelona Fishermen’s Guild has its headquarters. There we are welcomed by Javier Carrasco, secretary of this association of die-hard local fishermen, which has 206 members. Next to the port clock, they organise their events of fraternisation and openness to the public, such as the popular sardine festival last spring, a way, according to Carraco, “to show that we are still here, in conditions that are not always favourable, but fishing, as has always been done, on this urban coast, supplying Barcelona’s fish markets and restaurants with excellent local produce.”
Interior of the Club Patí Vela.Jordi Adrià
Carrasco introduces us to Antonio, from Almuñécar, a boat captain. A fisherman with five decades of activity behind him who was already enjoying his retirement (the special regime for sea workers provides that they retire at 55 years of age) but who has returned to sailing because his boat had been left without a captain “and in fishing there is hardly any generational change”. Antonio is mending his nets, pierced and unravelled by the tuna “which are a protected species, they interfere with fishing and are so voracious that they almost empty the sea”.
In these waters, when the tuna give way, octopus, sea bass, mabras and sea bream are caught. According to Antonio, this product is “very good quality”, but it can no longer be sold as before to the highest bidder, in public fish markets. “We do it behind closed doors,” explains Carrasco. The arrival of the America’s Cup is a serious setback for them, and they hope that it will at least be as beneficial for the city as has been said. “It is fair to recognise,” adds Carrasco, “that the City Council and the organisation of the Cup have sat down with us at work tables to minimise the impact and plan compensation in case we cannot go out to fish.” Antonio assures us that he is preparing for a journey through the desert for a couple of months: “Nice words, whatever you want. But when it comes down to it, fishermen are the last monkey in this film.”
