Barceloneta: this is what life is like in the most gentrified neighborhood in the country

BarcelonaIt's Thursday morning. The Barceloneta neighborhood is slowly waking up as shutters are raised, uniformed dockworkers make coffee in a bar, the market is already open, and crates of fish are piled high in the stalls. The butane delivery man, who has parked at the entrance to Pescadors Street, acts as an alarm clock by banging the gas cylinders with a hammer, in case someone needs to refill them. This week, these streets have been in the headlines of all the media outlets so that Barceloneta is already the most gentrified neighborhood in the entire country. According to the latest study by the Center for Demographic Studies at the Autonomous University of Barcelona (UAB). When asked about this issue, most residents don't react with surprise: "Gentrification has been out of control here for a long time," they agree resignedly. ARA visited the neighborhood to talk to residents—both newcomers and long-timers—and see firsthand what it's like to continue living in a neighborhood where the machinery of the system tends to push you out.

A quick first glance already reveals this trend. The fishing neighborhood is located between the beach, the W Hotel, and the Palau de Mar, now converted into a hub International technology hub. On the neighborhood's two main thoroughfares, Passeig Joan de Borbó and Carrer Pepe Rubianes, the few remaining traditional shops are well hidden among fast-food restaurants and stores selling souvenirs, mobile phones, and cannabis products and seeds. Many shutters are down. At the tobacco shop, two of the shopkeepers are chatting by the door because someone came in and stole something. "You should have run after him," one chides the other.

Nearly 15,000 people live in Barceloneta, and the average per capita income is around €14,100 per year, according to Idescat. That's half the income of residents in other neighborhoods, such as Sarrià or Sant Gervasi. One of the longtime residents is Núria González. Like many others, she lives in one of the famous "quarter-floor apartments," the 28-square-meter flats that are very common in this neighborhood. "Those of us who have lived here all our lives are used to it. Now I live alone, but before I lived with my two children; and before that with my parents!" she explains, both proud and amused.

Núria and her family have experienced firsthand the impact of gentrification on housing. In recent years, many apartments have been sold and put up for seasonal rental "at exorbitant prices," she says. "They charge up to 1,300 euros a month for an apartment like mine." There are several in her building. "They're just passing through; they change constantly and make no effort to get to know the others. Sometimes they're students who get together and cause a ruckus. The day will come when I won't know anyone anymore, I won't have a support network, and I won't even know who to ask for help if something happens to me," she reflects. Núria explains that her children have already left the neighborhood due to the pressure of prices. When their rental agreement ended, "they couldn't find anything and moved away from Barcelona." Young people are leaving because the apartments are small or unaffordable, and many are also afraid or say they no longer want to raise their children in this environment. "It's a real shame," Núria laments.

When she says "this environment," she means the street. And the impersonal shops that have taken over the neighborhood. "In Barceloneta, life has always been lived in the street, and now we don't even have dry cleaners, drugstores, or many of the basic businesses that weren't just shops, but also a space for community and socializing," she argues. "Want to see what losing neighborhood shops means? Well, go to Montse's, to the shop Les Ocasions."

We take her advice. On the way there, however, as we turn onto Miquel Pedrola i Alegre Street—which the longtime residents still call Churruca Street, after its old name—we run into Maribel, who calls out to Pilar from afar. "How's your foot?" she asks. "Well, I have to come back this afternoon to get it fixed," Pilar replies. Maribel is 75 years old and also describes herself as a "lifelong" resident. We accompanied her for part of her walk; she had arranged to meet her husband for a stroll "and to get some sun." "This neighborhood has changed a lot, in every way," she explains. "Before, it was a very family-oriented neighborhood, but now there are so many people, mostly foreigners, and lots of tourists." She says that living in Barceloneta is very "nice" but there are also "many problems." She highlights the noise made by tourists at night and the lack of security. "Someone tried to pull a chain around my husband's neck, and he fell to the ground. He hit his head hard," she says.

Living in Barceloneta is "beautiful," "gorgeous," "living by the beach," and "living in community." These are some of the adjectives the residents themselves use. However, the sentence never ends there. They all continue with a but"It's impossible," "it's hell," "it's constant noise," "it's a miserable existence," they add.

From fishing boats to yachts

We arrived at Les Ocasions, the shop where Montse works. It's a clothing and home textiles store, but also a neighborhood meeting place. While we were chatting with her, Joaquín arrived. He brought her some Christmas lights he had repaired. "I hope they last," he said, joining the conversation. Joaquín said there aren't many shops like this left. "Some bars, like La Cova Fumada, La Electricidad, or Can Ramonet, Cánovas watchmaker "And that's about it," they explain, giving a quick rundown. Their conversation revolves around all the establishments that also plan to close. "What a shame –Joaquín says softly, "So what? They'll just put in one of those mobile units that will close in two days and they'll open another one." Horrifying"At that moment, Beatriz enters the shop. She comes in just to say hello and joins the conversation. "Did you know that we have five cannabis shops on that street? How can they license so many in such a small space?" she wonders. "In short, what we have here now is alcohol and drug tourism," Montse retorts.

The three neighbors wonder, with a touch of nostalgia, why no politician seems concerned with preserving the neighborhood's essence. Núria ventures an answer: "I think they're letting the neighborhood deteriorate so that the powerful, the business owners, the investors, can take it over and customize it for themselves, with a little apartment by the beach, where they can moor their yachts." Before you leave, another neighbor enters the shop: "Reina, can I sit down and rest? I'm walking home and my feet are killing me." And Joaquín pulls out a chair for her. "This is what building community and neighborhood spirit is all about," Núria concludes.

The neighbors recount that the first major change came with the construction work prior to the 1992 Olympic Games. "But that was good for us," they conclude. Now, however, they assert that "in the last ten years, the neighborhood has deteriorated." Suzanne Jorquera is one of the neighborhood's activist residents. She and her sister Esther, along with Núria and other neighbors, have raised their voices more than once Through associations like L'Òstia, they are reclaiming the essence of their neighborhood and confronting projects like the America's Cup or the arrival of vulture funds. "The biggest problem we have is the population turnover. We have large corporations and Catalan bourgeois families selling apartments to high-income people from the Global North, with seasonal contracts, to people who only want to come to take a picture for Instagram," he says sharply.

For Suzanne, living in the neighborhood has become unbearable for too many reasons. "They're destroying the community and the neighborhood, a working-class, fishing, lifelong working-class neighborhood." "Some landlords have even told me, 'Don't think we'll be renting out the apartments in the petty criminals "From Barceloneta," explains this indignant neighbor.

Real estate pressure, tourist pressure, population growth, and the destruction of the commercial fabric. These are the underlying problems that appear in all the debates. They don't want to make statements. "The business isn't mine" or "Come back when the owner returns," are some of the responses they most often use to avoid talking to journalists, and only a few also admit to being residents of the neighborhood. Wealthy people who "come to live the Barcelona experience." And she says they don't interact with each other. Because they're just passing through, this neighbor says. The balance is very delicate. We're caught between the need for businesses in the neighborhood, for residents, for jobs, and at the same time, for us not to lose our essence."