It is half past six in the evening. In the garden of the Ateneu barcelonès, a group of ladies are discussing literature and two young people are talking about love problems. When Carles Tudó walks between the tables, everyone turns to look at his uniform, with breeches inspired by those of the 16th century worn by the Lansquenets, German mercenaries. Tudó is one of Europe's leading experts in classical fencing and this year he is in charge of teaching the fencing courses that the Ateneu barcelonès has revived more than 140 years after the last time the clash of sabers echoed through its halls. The sessions are held in the elegant Jacint Verdaguer hall of the Ateneu, among volumes of centuries-old books and busts of writers. "We have exhausted all places and have a waiting list," explains Tudó while preparing the swords.

"We inform you that on Thursday, November 20th, in the afternoon, an activity will take place that could disrupt the usual silence in the library rooms." This was the only warning posted on the door of the Ateneo de Barcelona library. Its users could hardly have imagined that, fifty years after Franco's death, the riot police would return. They did so this Thursday, shortly after 6 p.m., using the same language they had employed during the dictatorship, and with the same aggression:Damn it. Everyone at home and the women in the kitchen."," was their way of greeting.

We're in one of the best-kept secrets in the center of Barcelona. A hidden gem in the middle of the busiest streets of the Gothic Quarter. What do we find? A large, peaceful garden for enjoying a vermouth, a space to eat some "amazing" calamari—as they describe it—and a lunch menu featuring a wealth of Catalan cuisine. Just as Julià Peiró entered the The house of the famous and (I'm sure you'll forgive me for writing this) one of the great incentives to watch The guest Albert Om's was to see what the inside of famous people's homes looked like. This restaurant today has the same element, because it's located inside a historic building where you really want to peek: the Ateneu Barcelonès.

Red signs in English have appeared on the streets of Barcelona, coworking spaces and macha tea bars. They invite you to learn Catalan in a different way: at the Ateneu Barcelonès. The century-old institution has created El Club de Català to help alleviate the lack of official training. Not only has it opened its classrooms for official courses run by the Consortium for Linguistic Normalization, which has sent nearly a hundred students, but it also has its own courses designed for foreigners. The idea is not to offer conventional, purely linguistic classes, but rather to offer a cultural approach, with theater outings, poetry readings, or, as the advertisement says, open-air sessions, at buzzing book club and beers at the garden bar.

For fifteen years Ramon Erra (Santa Eulalia de Puig-oriol, 1966) has combined his literary career (West Gypsy Lighthouse, Life on rails) with his teaching job at the Ateneu Barcelonès Writing School. Several former students recommended him to me, and I understand why when I encounter his affable, constructive, expert, yet rigorous demeanor. He specializes in leading advanced courses: he guides students toward their goal of writing a novel.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of the Gothic Quarter, amidst shops and tourists, at number 6 Carrer Canuda lies one of the city's most emblematic cultural treasures: the Ateneu Barcelonès, a haven where culture is the order of the day. The Ateneu is an association that has accompanied Catalan society for over 150 years with the aim of being a central space for critical thinking, intellectual activity, and community life. Since 1872, this independent cultural institution has actively contributed to the development of Catalan culture, remaining faithful to its founding purpose: to be a hub for creation, training, and open and constructive debate. Throughout its history, it has been chaired by illustrious names such as Àngel Guimerà, Joan Maragall, and Pompeu Fabra.

Isona Passola i Vidal (Barcelona, 1953) has just been re-elected to preside over the Ateneu Barcelonès for another four years. Former president of the Catalan Film Academy, her greatest success as a producer was the film Black bread, with thirteen Gaudí Awards, nine Goyas, and an Oscar nomination. Involved in multiple cultural projects, I'm trying to take this conversation with Isona Passola into more personal territory. Her father, the Catalan businessman Ermengol Passola; her husband, Jordi Teixidor, who died in 2016; her son, Joan, who manages the Texas cinemas; and her name, which is now a brand: Isona.

"There has to be a civilized confrontation, which doesn't mean a war," said one. "I'm delighted that there could be an alternative candidacy to ours," said the other. The first is Jordi Casassas (Barcelona, ​​1948), who was president of the Ateneu Barcelonès from 2014 to 2021. The second is Isona Passola (Barcelona, ​​1953), the current president of the institution on Canuda Street. Both are running in this Thursday's elections (from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m.), in which the members will decide what they want the Ateneu to be of the future, or at least for the next four years.

"There has to be a civilized confrontation, which doesn't mean a war," said one. "I'm delighted that there could be an alternative candidacy to ours," said the other. The first is Jordi Casassas (Barcelona, ​​1948), who was president of the Ateneu Barcelonès from 2014 to 2021. The second is Isona Passola (Barcelona, ​​1953), the current president of the institution on Canuda Street. Both are running in this Thursday's elections (from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m.), in which the members will decide what they want the Ateneu to be of the future, or at least for the next four years.

The Palau Savassona, on Barcelona's Carrer de la Canuda, has housed the Ateneu Barcelonès since 1906. Previously, since 1860, this institution had been housed in the annex building of the Teatro Principal on La Rambla. Thus, the Ateneu has celebrated its 165th anniversary and has accompanied the cultural and political life of our country during this long period. Few cultural institutions are as representative as they are, yet have been able to withstand the passage of time without losing their core essence.

Do athenaeums make sense in the 21st century? With this title, the youth discussion group Café Continental opened in January 2023 at the Ateneu Barcelonès, recalling the same discussion that had taken place at the beginning of the century, in which the very young Sagarra, Papasseit, Foix, Garcés, and others participated. With the discussion's wording, the participants already responded. They were there and valued meeting physically, feeling close, and debating any topic after the pandemic and the virtual isolation they had experienced. Two years later, this question takes on more meaning than ever in a Catalan and European context where immigration has exceeded all Western expectations. Sociologists say that the failures in migrant integration stem from a lack of connection with the environment. The French case explains this very well: with good public schools, well-equipped neighborhoods, and a strong culture, malaise and ghettos continue to exist.