I thought that Barcelona, being the capital of separatist Catalonia, might have a different relationship with memorialising the 39 years of oppression. Barcelona played a pivotal role in the war. Once an anti-fascist stronghold, the city soon became the site of the republican infighting that led to the Francoist victory. I became inspired to retrace George Orwell’s steps as a communist party soldier, which he famously described in Homage to Catalonia.
In one gripping section of his memoir, he describes his role in the 6-day siege against a republican stronghold - the Café Moka on Las Ramblas. And so, I went to explore. I was expecting to be greeted by the telltale signs of a historical battle site; Berlin-esque walls riddled with bullet holes, a plaque, or perhaps brochures. Instead, I walked into a sanitised and touristy diner. A vast English language menu was accompanied by rows of microwaves behind the bar. English neon food signs lit up the windows to entice the throng of American tourists. Uncertain of whether I was in the right place, I wandered back outside. Sure enough, Orwell’s vantage point on the Teatre Poliorama’s domed rooftop was visible opposite. It was hard to imagine communist soldiers being stationed up there just 90 years ago, lobbing grenades into the doorway where I stood.
I sat at the end of the long bar for an espresso. Whilst chatting to the staff behind the bar, it became clear that they knew nothing of the significance of the café, which shocked me. I wondered why this was. Perhaps because the Café Moka is an unfortunate example of one of the conflicts that led to the fascist victory. Or maybe it was yet another case of the historical censorship so common in Spain. There is little memorialisation of the war in Barcelona. A Gothic Plaza named after Orwell does little to remember these defenders of democracy. I wanted to find out whether the city is more effective in memorialising those synonymous with Barcelona’s cultural Golden Age, such as Ernest Hemingway, Pablo Picasso, or Antoni Gaudí.
'Barcelona played a pivotal role in the war. Once an anti-fascist stronghold, the city soon became the site of the republican infighting that led to the Francoist victory.'
In this period, the neighbourhood of El Raval was the cultural epicentre of the city, boasting wild nightlife. These days, it’s characterized by its largely immigrant population and lower incomes. However, one can still find the semi-forgotten gems of the Golden Age if one knows where to look. It was then that I found myself at a near-empty ‘London Bar’, just off La Rambla del Raval. Its legacy isn’t brandished, but understated and subtle. The soft yellow lighting and hardwood bar provide the essence of Gaudí’s ‘Modernisme’ and do so without falling victim to the pitfalls of gentrification. Unlike the Café Moka, this bar felt like a well-kept secret. Whether or not Hemingway was served complimentary popcorn with his Old Fashioned like me, I’m not sure. But who’s complaining?
Similarly, the Bar Marsella provides a haven of authenticity. As Barcelona’s longest operating absinthe bar, it supplied the fuel for the eccentricity of Gaudí, the tormented creativity of Picasso’s ‘Blue’ era, and the violent drunkenness of Hemingway. To this day it’s served in its traditional Bohemian form, in a glass with a fork and sugar cube balanced atop. Upon entering, I was greeted by a cultivated grime; peeling paint, bottles thick with dust, and Spanish signs reading ‘No loitering at tables’ and ‘No singing’. These signs, like much of the décor, are a relic of the Franco times when this bar was a known hotbed of clandestine artistic rebellion.
Sitting at the bar, enjoying my absinthe in the warming glow under a dusty chandelier, I felt more in touch with the city’s chequered past than I ever had been. The deafening cultural chaos that characterizes Barcelona can seem impossible to unravel. However, strong links to its tumultuous past do exist, if you have the patience to uncover them.