Gothic Quarter, Barcelona

When the Romans settled Barcelona, then known as Barcino, they distributed land to retired soldiers to help them build new lives. The settlement was laid out in an organised grid, entered through fortified walls with four gates. Over the centuries, the city grew and rebuilt itself again and again, slowly burying the Roman settlement beneath narrow, winding streets and squares that make up the Gothic Quarter I am about to explore. It is rather humbling to think that under my feet lie the remains of an ancient city. 

Before stepping into the Gothic Quarter, I spotted the word “Barcino” spelled across a nearby square, a quiet nod to Barcelona’s Roman name. At the entrance, a plaque reading "Muralla Romana" marks the 2,000-year-old walls that still stand. It’s remarkable to see these remnants holding up so well after all this time. There isn’t much left above ground from Roman days, but the history museum offers glimpses of streets and buildings preserved beneath the modern city.

I wander along Carrer del Paradís and tucked inside an unassuming building, I come face to face with four Corinthian columns from the 1st-century Augustus Temple that once stood in the forum. A modern structure was built around the ruins, complete with a glass roof, and I imagine living in an apartment here, looking out the window at these ancient columns, pondering what life might have been like back then.

Nearby, the Barcelona Cathedral rises in Gothic splendour. Built over two centuries from 1298, its neo-Gothic façade was only added in the late 19th century. I look up at the gargoyles and spot a unicorn, an elephant, and a carved figure of Wilfred the Hairy with sword and shield. He’s remembered as the father of Catalonia, uniting the region in the 9th century. 

I cross under the Bridge of the Bisbe, which looks medieval but was actually built in 1928 to link government buildings. Beneath it sits a skull pierced by a dagger. No one really knows why. Some say rubbing it brings luck, others claim pulling out the dagger would cause Barcelona to crumble. With no shortage of lore, the favourite tale is that the architect placed a curse here after his grand redevelopment plans for the quarter were rejected. True or not, it certainly makes me glance up.

As I wander through its maze of narrow streets, I look up at the small balconies, some so close I feel I could pass a coffee to a neighbour across the lane. In some sections, sunlight barely reaches the ground. From the 9th to 14th centuries, parts of the quarter were home to a thriving Jewish community known as El Call. At its height, the community numbered around 4,000, but over time, the Jews were persecuted and eventually expelled. The ancient synagogue was absorbed into surrounding buildings until 2003, when the space was reopened as an interpretive site and a symbol of the quarter’s Jewish heritage.

At Plaça de Sant Felip Neri, the mood shifts. Shrapnel scars pepper the church walls, left deliberately as a memorial to a Civil War bombing in the 1930s that killed dozens. Today, the square is peaceful, sometimes filled with children from a nearby school playing around the central fountain. 

In contrast, Plaça Sant Jaume opens wide and airy, surrounded by government buildings. This has been Barcelona’s administrative centre since Roman times. Above the town hall are three flags: Spain’s in the middle, Catalonia’s red and yellow stripes to the left, one of Europe’s oldest flags still in use, and Barcelona’s own to the right, bearing Saint George’s cross, its patron saint. 

Famished by now, I head to the Santa Caterina Market, where aromas drift through the colourful stalls. I start with a sampling of ibérico ham, no bread and no extras, just a melt-in-the-mouth mix of salty, nutty flavours, then move on to escalivada, sweet and smoky roasted peppers and onions that remind me of my European heritage. To finish, I settle into a small tavern for a botifarra, a grilled Catalan sausage tucked into a crusty roll with caramelised onions and a splash of spicy salsa, the perfect ending to my day.