Goodbye to a Raval miracle: Barcelona's smallest fruit shop closes

Barcelona"This is the last apple I'll sell you," Jaume García says with a smile to one of his customers. This Sunday, after half a century, his little miracle in Barcelona's Raval neighborhood will close its doors forever. It is possibly the smallest fruit shop in the city, surviving for fifty years in a corner of Carrer Ramelleres, the narrow alleyway that connects Carrer Tallers with Plaça de Vicenç Martorell. At 61, García is retiring after a lifetime in which he has seen the city center turn upside down.

The story of the now-closing establishment began with his father half a century ago. He was an apprentice at the FECSA factory located on the land now occupied by the Faculty of Geography and History at the University of Barcelona. Since his salary was meager, he decided to open a small fruit shop next to the electric company as a supplement. This extra income eventually became the family's main source of support and the workplace for Jaume García—who has kept it open until now—and his siblings.

At first glance, the shop—located on the ground floor of the Grau hostel and next to the Bar Céntrico—already transports you to another era. It's tiny, and to get inside, García has to move aside some fruit crates that also serve as a counter. It looks more like a kiosk than a typical fruit shop. Inside, it's just him, surrounded by crates with all the fruit and vegetables on display so that customers can choose what they want from the street. He himself jokes about the small size of the space, saying he's looking forward to retiring so he can get out of the hideout.

The move from the Fecsa factory to the university isn't the only change in his surroundings. In a conversation with ARA, he looks back at the businesses that used to be nearby and are now gone. A bar, two butcher shops, a soap shop, a hardware store, and the bank branch where he opened his first checking account have all closed before him. The arcade that stood across from the fruit shop many years ago, where García explains he often escaped to play foosball or other games, has also disappeared. million with the workshop workers who The Vanguard His business was located between Tallers and Pelai streets. His wife, who ran a wool shop in Vicenç Martorell square, also closed it a few weeks ago.

"The Last of the Mohicans"

Where all these establishments once stood, there are now fast-food restaurants, 24-hour supermarkets, specialty coffee shops, and souvenir stores. The fruit shop and Llenas Stationery are the few remaining vestiges of a vanishing neighborhood. So are the residents. "I used to know everyone; now it's all tourist apartments or student flats where they buy food from Glovo or pre-made potato omelets from the supermarket," says García. "Shops like this are doomed to disappear," he laments before regaining his smile and proclaiming himself "the last of the Mohicans."

Despite the changes the neighborhood has undergone, García still maintains a loyal clientele. He explains that illustrious local residents like Raimon, Silvia Pérez Cruz, and the photographer Manuel Outumuro have often stopped by his counter. Many others, too, now ask to have their picture taken with him as a memento. "There are four or five who have been here forever, and I'm preparing a fruit basket and farewell cards for them," he explains while selling one of the last bananas in the shop.