Chapter 9: Barcelona Gothic - Excerpt

"Hello, you sent me an email about a room for rent,” Alex said excited at the possibility of escaping his current windowless dwelling.

“Yes, I saw your ad on Loquo,” replied a deep monotone voice. “You must come today if interested. It’s number four Urquinaona, 2-1. Do you know where that is?”

“I think so.”

“Good. Come in an hour.” Click.

New to Barcelona from Asturias, Alex had only known Urquinaona as the stop to change from the red to the yellow line on the way to the beach. As the station’s escalator brought him to the surface, his face lit up at the sight of one of the few shaded squares in the city that was also a stone’s throw from Plaça Catalunya. Great location, he thought, crossing the street and passing the yellow metal barrier of some roadwork where two men stood smoking watching a third in a hole.

Near the end of the square, sandwiched between a bank and an Irish bar, was a large wooden door. Alex’s eyes immediately set on the two brass knockers molded into the shape of smooth and slender hands that hung limp and held what appeared to be an apple in their finger tips. Such ornamental fixtures were not that uncommon in Barcelona and above the dark wooden door was another common sight – a piece of chiseled stone. In this case, rather than the more popular rose or angel, it was a roaring lion’s head.

The gray stones of the building were embedded with glittering green specks and its design was typical of the modernist architecture found throughout the L’Eixample district of the city. Many of the artistic façades sought inspiration in nature with stone columns made to look like trees and patio doors that opened onto balconies with floral iron railings. This one hearkened back to the Middle Ages, designed to resemble a castle. On either side of a rectangular balcony, protruding like glass and steel turrets, were the rounded outside windows of the first two stories. Their stone roofs served as patios for the third floor with their straight iron railings and glass doors, while above was a row of arched windows and a shared, narrow balcony that looked onto the plaça. The thought of living in such a place made Alex hope he was the first, and the last, to visit as he pressed the button on the intercom.