A lot of cities talk big about the variety and ethnic diversity of their cuisine. Bloggers babble about “cultural crossroads” and “melting pots,” but in reality most big cities can’t compete with the choices and quality offered in the typical central Barcelona neighborhood.

I know, fighting words. But there are unique forces at play in Barcelona. The whole “crossroads” thing is real in the city. “Local” means Catalan, but the food scene is heavily influenced by the distinct cuisines of other Spanish regions, as well as nearby France. Moroccan and Eastern European inspirations are also baked into the mix, like most of Spain. And Barcelona is a port city, and touristy port cities often host a cultural stew. (OK, sorry for the cooking metaphors.)

Many cities may offer similar ethnic diversity, but the restaurants are separated into different barrios spread across the city. There’s a “Chinatown” or a “Little Italy” or a Greek neighborhood, but little cross pollination. In Barcelona, every type of food can pop up in any neighborhood. Walk around and you never know what you’ll find around the corner. In the heart of the city, everything from “fusion” restaurants led by boundary-testing chefs to fast-food Korean joints are always a short stroll away

On a recent visit to Barcelona, I stayed on Consell de Cent, a pedestrian street in the heart of Eixample, the central neighborhood. I was thinking food after recording a podcast with Brent Petersen for his site, Destination Eat Drink, and I began to explore.

Within a few blocks of my apartment, I found Greek, Indian, Moroccan, Chinese, Japanese, Italian and Argentinian restaurants. But that only scratched the surface, as I expanded the search into the surrounding blocks, where I discovered Malaysian, Mexican, Korean, Colombian, Filipino and Chinese hot pot restaurants, in addition to multiple hamburger joints and a shisha lounge.

There was probably a German place in the area, but I didn’t see one. I did notice an Iranian restaurant, but I didn’t feel it was a good idea to hang out in front taking pictures.

Of course, the ethnic restaurants were only a fraction of the choices. Like any Barcelona neighborhood, there were plenty of the local cafes that bring life and community to every block. I never saw a tourist in this place, where I hunkered down for the menu de dia, which included a first course of pasta with meat sauce, a nice piece of grilled salmon and a bread pudding for dessert, for about $16, including drink and coffee.

My neighborhood also featured the typical array of bakeries, butcher shops, vermouth bars, bodegas and wine shops. It was a residential area close to the university, which meant there were also several coffee bars, a “gluten-free lab,” a churro stand, takeaway kebab restaurants and an artisan cheesecake bakery…

… and one place specializing in corndogs.

In Barcelona, diversity isn’t simply about geographic hodgepodge. Beyond ethnic and cultural variety, the neighborhood presented a full range of pricing and quality levels, including several high-end restaurants catering to obsessed foodies.

A few blocks from my apartment I ran into the Michelin-starred Fishology, where customers can “immerse themselves in a unique experience focused on the marine environment.” The restaurant’s chefs “study and develop ancestral preservation techniques (maturations, curing, sausages, smoking, preserves and salting),” and follow “ancestral techniques from the times of the Greeks and Romans,” to create aromatic artisanal vermouth.

I wasn’t in the mood for an immersive aquatic experience, but this fast-food Chinese place where I could get a €6.90 pork roujiamo, a form of Chinese hamburger, definitely caught my eye.

In a down-and-dirty, what-are-we-having-for-dinner sense, that’s what real cultural diversity means. There is an equation developed by your brain and stomach that is only satisfied by the ability to find something interesting to eat within easy walking distance. That is the promise of a great food city, where affordable street food and innovative, food art can live together.

Barcelona presents a high bar. Although, for the record, there is one thing you won’t find in a typical Barcelona neighborhood: American food chains. And their absence is one of the best parts about the city.

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To many Barcelona tourists, Josep Puig i Cadafalch is the guy who designed that really cool mansion next door to Casa Batlló, Gaudi’s main street masterpiece. Millions of travelers have stared in awe at the Gaudi house and its swirling facade, and then glanced to the left and said something like, “wow, what’s up with that place?”

The “place next door” is Casa Amatller, a classic example of the can-you-top this competition that was raging on swanky Passeig de Gracia in the early 1900s. A renovation of an existing building, Puig i Cadaflach’s Casa Amatller finished first, changing the dynamic of the street with its colorful, code-bashing façade filled with symbols reflecting the building’s owners. (In 1906, Gaudi followed with Casa Batlló, followed a few months later by Lluís Domènech i Montaner’s extravagant Casa Lleó Morera, on the other side of Casa Amatller.)

Along with his peers — known as the “Big Three” of Barcelona modernists — Puig i Cadafalch helped shape the city’s aesthetic and the emerging ideas of art nouveau and modernism, even though his name might not be as well known around the world. His work leaps from the cityscape, full of towering Gothic and medieval references.

Puig i Cadafalch’s passions and influences were much different than his peers. Gaudi was a zealot consumed by expressing nature and paying tribute to God. Domènech was an academic and politician who borrowed ideas from everywhere. Puig i Cadafalch was a historian and staunch Catalan nationalist who looked to express Catalan traditions while embracing the form-busting modernist ideals.

Puig i Cadafalch’s most recognizable work is, like Casa Amatller, a dramatic building in the heart of the city that few people know much about. The spires of Casa de les Punxes loom above a key intersection on Diagonal, the bustling boulevard that cuts through the city center. On a triangular lot, Puig i Cadafalch created a residential block for three sisters in a glamorous medieval fantasy castle topped by six spiked turrets that might look at home in a Bavarian forest.

One of Puig i Cadafalch’s lessor known works is right across the boulevard, unnoticed by the tour buses. A few years ago, Palau del Baró de Quadras, a private residence designed by Puig i Cadafalch in 1903, was opened to the public for short tours one day a week as part of a citywide effort to open more of the old mansions to the public. The program is managed by Casas Singulares; as of this writing it is open on Fridays.

Commissioned before the competition on Passeig de Gracia, Palau del Baró de Quadras was designed as the home for the Baron de Quadras, an industrialist who scored big in textiles (primarily wool.) The hardcore neo-Gothic façade fronting Diagonal, with its ornate balcony, carved figures and occasional gargoyle gave the Baron a show palace on the busy throughfare. (The opposite site of the building has a much different, more sedate residential façade.) The owners “were showing off, absolutely,” the tour guide says.

In the early 1900s, Catalan was home to many of the world’s best craftsmen, and Puig i Cadafalch took full advantage of their skills. The mosaic floor, stonework and ornate iron work are typical of the creative explosion happening in the city at the time. The grand staircase is topped with an intricate stained-glass ceiling.

The iron details and colorful tiles help make the building very Catalan.

A mishmash of influences typical of the modernists can be found throughout the house, from the grand columns to the colorful details. The Palau was a job for hire, and it certain reflects the perspective of the client, the Baron, as much as the vision of the architect. Two rooms from the opulent living quarters were preserved, including the columns and grand fireplace.

The building has been restored a couple of times, and it’s been used for different functions over the years. Today it is a working office, home to the Institut Ramon Llull, an agency focused on promoting Catalan culture.

Get tickets and info at Cases Singulars.

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With much fanfare, the Catalan Department of Culture released a study this week confirming that a remote chalet in the mountains north of Barcelona was, in fact, designed by famed architect Antoni Gaudí.

The announcement attracted international coverage proclaiming the discovery of a “lost” Gaudí. But it’s unlikely the notoriously prickly Gaudí would be happy about the news, considering he didn’t want his name on the three-story, wedge-shaped building when he was alive.

Gaudí was certainly involved in the design of Xalet del Catllaràs’, located just outside the town of La Pobla de Lillet. During the early 1900s, he was busy in the area creating housing for workers in factories owned by his primary benefactor, Eusebi Güell. He is also credited with designing the nearby Artigas Gardens for another one of his supporters.

But there are complications to declaring the unassuming chalet an official Gaudí, even though it has been commonly referenced as a Gaudí for decades. For one, Gaudí was only involved in the initial design. He was a busy man at the turn of the century. Parc Guell and Casa Batlló were in full swing, and he was becoming increasingly obsessed with Sagrada Familia, the church that would consume his later years. By all accounts, he didn’t supervise construction of the chalet and reportedly didn’t like the final result, which left out many of the more complicated aspects of his original design.

In very Gaudí-like fashion, he refused to formally sign the project’s final paperwork and didn’t include it in any of his professional portfolios, according to published reports. Gaudí was well-known for balking when his designs were altered, most famously when the owners of Casa Mila, his landmark work on Passeig de Gracia, didn’t want to put a 4-meter-tall statue of the Virgin Mary on top of the house.

The chalet’s architect was officially listed as unknown. Over the years, the building was renovated and abandoned several times, leaving little trace of anything resembling a Gaudí project. (This site has a nice look at the building’s history.)

For years, the chalet and its provenance has been a source of debate among local experts, who felt it deserved the full Gaudí recognition. In 2020, a major restoration helped return the chalet to something resembling its original plan. (ROA Arquitectura studied the project a few years ago.)

New research commissioned by the Catalonia Department of Culture confirms Gaudí as the “author” of the design, the agency announced at a press conference this week. The study by architect Galdric Santana, professor at the Barcelona School of Architecture (ETSAB), acknowledges Gaudí did not direct construction and “never publicly claimed authorship because the work was not built according to his design.” However, the study concludes the chalet “contains unique methodologies and techniques by Gaudí that attest to its authorship.”

Several elements were pure Gaudí, the study found. Designs for arches and vaults — including some not actually used in the final design — and the arrangement of the rooms were all typical of Gaudí at the time and would later appear in his other buildings.

The researchers moved into new territory in terms of creating a technical model for analyzing a designer’s influence on a project, according to the press release. The focus on “geometric, structural and compositional evidence” included 3D studies and extensive analysis of historical documents and photographs

“The study details, one by one, all the details that have led it to conclude, affirmatively, that Antoni Gaudí was the author of the Xalet del Catllaràs project,” the Department of Culture announced.

The announcement dances around the issue of calling the project a Gaudí design when Gaudí didn’t want his name on it. It was not unusual for busy architects not to sign the paperwork for projects that didn’t match their initial design, the release suggests. However, the release acknowledges, “the author of this work (Santana) concludes that Gaudí did not direct its construction, and that it was executed and modified by third parties, losing its initial formal and structural meaning.”

In interviews, Santana says the project represents Gaudí’s work and illustrates his way of thinking at a crucial time in his career, even if not all the elements of his design are in the final building.

“What’s most important is that it shows the new architectural approach that Gaudí had,” Santana, who is also director of the Gaudí Chair at the Polytechnic University of Catalonia (BarcelonaTech), told Reuters.

Announced as part of the Year of Gaudí, the celebration commemorating the 100-year anniversary of the architect’s death, the conclusion is certainly good news for area tourism agencies, which have a new site to market. The Berguedà region will now be included on maps of Gaudí destinations, Minister of Culture Sònia Hernández announced at the press conference. “Today we celebrate news of enormous value for our cultural heritage,” she said.

Nothing in the announcement answered the question: would Gaudí have been happy with the result? Would he want his name on the building?

In his lifetime, Gaudí answered that question, based on the historical record. He wasn’t shy about claiming his work; or disassociating himself from stuff he didn’t like it. Now, a hundred years after his death, his name is back on the chalet, whether he likes it or not.

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Last year, shortly before his death, Pope Francis declared that famed Barcelona architect Antoni Gaudí had displayed “heroic virtues,” a key step in efforts to elevate the city’s best-known modernist to sainthood.

For decades the Diocese of Barcelona and an advocacy group of civic leaders, the Association for the Beatification of Antoni Gaudí, have been making the case for the creator of Sagrada Familia, who is often called “God’s architect.” The Vatican began a formal review in 2003, after advocates produced a 2,000-page positio, with studies and documents supporting the application.

Pope Francis was a fan; he called Gaudi “a great mystic.” By classifying Gaudi as “venerable,” his saint application cleared a major hurdle.

Gaudi supporters point to Sagrada Familia, the “last cathedral,” as a saint-worthy achievement. “Can anyone acquainted with [Gaudí’s] work believe that all which one contemplates could possibly have been produced only by cold thought?” Barcelona’s then-Cardinal Ricardo María Carles Gordó said in 2003.

But many issues remain before Gaudi can be declared a saint, including the thorny question of miracles. There is speculation that supporters might point to a miracle attributed to Gaudi after his death. Or it’s possible the Pope could simply waive the miracle requirement, according to published.

There are concerns about the precedent of anointing an artist as a saint. Many artists could claim God’s involvement in their transcendent work, to one degree or another. And Gaudi was no Mother Teresa helping the poor; most of his work was at the behest of wealthy patrons, eager to spend money on an original Gaudi.

Either way, the canonization discussion will certainly alter Gaudi’s public image. Many of his fans revere Gaudi as a pioneer in naturalism and connecting design to the organic world, not a religious zealot. His role as “God’s servant” doesn’t fit the image of the “King of Modernism.”

“In certain important respects, Gaudí was not a modernista architect at all; his religious obsessions, for instance, separate him from the generally secular character of modernisme,” wrote former New York Times art critic Robert Hughes in his opus, Barcelona.

For Common Edge, I dove deeper into the Gaudi sainthood campaign and it’s effect on Gaudi’s reputation as an architect.

Read the article here.

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In a crowded café on Barcelona’s Plaza Molina, they chant his name, exuberant at the flash of magic. Waiters pound their metal trays on the counter, college students throw their arms in the air, and old men shake their heads in disbelief. Together they shout his name with abandon, over and over again. Messi! Messi! Messi! He’s done it again. On this night, the shining light of Barcelona football has created a moment of legend, the type of play that turns mortal players into a name that is chanted into the night.

I found this café by accident, wandering down the hillside from my flat in Putxet. Plaza Molina, a busy Metro stop, was not my destination. Typically, I strolled past the bustling square on my way into Gràcia, skipping the little restaurants on the border of the plaza filled with commuters and business people stopping for drinks on the way home.

But the lights of a small place on the corner caught my eye. My only goal was to find a place to watch the Barca match and have a beer. The café was small, but I spotted an empty stool at the cramped counter. Drowned by the sound of the announcers booming from the TV, I shouted an order for patatas bravas and slid between a stoic older couple and two surly-looking young men in black. Everyone was glued to the TV, ignoring the chatter and bustle of the restaurant around them. The game progressed; people cheered and drank. And then it happened: a flash of greatness, something wild and wonderful that would leave us flabbergasted, excited, and mesmerized by the ability of an athlete to create something mythical.

Lionel Messi is no ordinary superstar in Barcelona, and this was no ordinary match. It was the semifinal of the Champions League, Europe’s biggest tournament, an event that surpasses the Super Bowl on the world stage. The opponent was German power Bayern Munich, a team that many believed was destined to win the tournament, led by the stars who had won Germany the World Cup title the year before. Every café and bar in Barcelona was filled with fans, as the city ritualistically ceased activity to focus on the crucial match for La Blaugrana.

The goal was pure Messi. More than simply a quick kick or a lucky header, it was executed with Messi’s particular style and flair. It was his second of the match, a dagger to the heart of Bayern’s hopes. In a sport that reveres the “beautiful game,” Messi created a piece of art. At the 80th minute, just three minutes after his first goal, he took the ball at the top of the box and moved toward the goal. With one juke to his left and a stutter step to his right, he completely turned around All-Star Bayern defender Jérôme Boateng, who did an awkward pirouette and fell to the turf. And then, as the coup de grace, Messi used a deft touch to lift the ball over the outstretched arms of goalkeeper Manuel Neuer, one of the world’s best, who at 6 feet 4 towers over 5-foot-5-inch Messi, known as La Pulga, the Flea.

In the parlance of U.S. sports, Messi’s move was an “ankle-breaker,” a “de-cleater.” In basketball terms, Boateng was “posterized.” The image of his awkward fall at the feet of Messi will survive for generations. The goal was the equivalent of Michael Jordan nailing the game winner in the Eastern Division championship; Derek Jeter clearing the bases in the seventh game of the World Series. The Champions League is European football’s biggest stage, and Messi took over and changed everything with one twinkling flash of brilliance.

Tales of Exuberance and Disappointment

In reality, these moments don’t happen as often as we would like. Our beloved superstars often let us down. They strike out in the big game; miss the winning shot. Lesser mortals claim the spotlight. This is especially true of the big team sports, in which talent must be wed with opportunity. In football/soccer, the greatest players can go weeks without scoring a goal or even making the highlight reels. Their achievements are often compromised by the limits of their teammates, the randomness of chance. And then there are the special ones, the athletes who rise to the occasion, night after night, improvising and astounding, creating the stories that will be told over and over again, long after they have left the pitch.

In the parlance of U.S. sports, Messi’s move was an “ankle-breaker,” a “de-cleater.” In basketball terms, Boateng was “posterized.”

Messi is one of those athletes, able to rise above even the sport’s greatest stars, a hero bigger than a goal or a title. His story is well known around the world. A sickly boy in Argentina, he was chosen to attend Barcelona’s famed youth academy as a teenager. He was undersized, even for football. He was not the fastest, and he is far from the most powerful. In a game known for legs that launch rockets on goal, he more often uses grace and skill to beat the best in the world.

Off the pitch, he doesn’t exude the playboy charm of David Beckham or Cristiano Ronaldo, his perennial rival for the title of the world’s top player. Ronaldo, a Portuguese striker blessed with uncanny athletic ability as well as film star good looks, craves the spotlight, dates starlets and tears off his jersey after goals to show off his six-pack abs. In his prime, Ronaldo was a fixture at nightclubs and on TV shows, smiling a smile that melts the hearts of women and cameras. That’s not Messi.

Messi shows no interest in the cameras and often seems nervous and awkward in interviews. It is often said he is more comfortable sitting at home playing video games than going to clubs. He has historically shunned public life, even though he is one of the most recognizable celebrities in the world. He has never displayed any curiosity about anything outside the game. He shows no interest in politics or cinema. No one thinks he will become a TV color announcer or a coach when he retires. All he does is play football.

As he aged, Messi seemed to float above the scandals and gossip that plague football, becoming a symbol of Barcelona’s resurgence in the world. In Catalonia, he was an outsider, but that did nothing to diminish the city’s adoration. His celebrity was not rooted in the tabloids; it was only about his performance on the pitch. The fans respected him as the best, someone able to perform at incomparable heights; they didn’t need to worship him. His status stemmed only from his talent on the pitch, his ability to create magic, nothing else.

Few cities create this type of relationship with an athlete, the bond Messi formed with Barcelona. Sports stars are transient by nature. They leave for a better contract; blow out a knee; or simply disappoint in their personal or professional life. New young stars emerge every year, the cycle of sports. But Messi stayed. He became a symbol for the sport and for a city taking its place on the international stage. All the La Liga championships, the scoring titles, the Copa del Rey victories — Messi and Barcelona were champions, playing with a style and speed that somehow reflected the city, a team with flair and pizzazz. In Barcelona, Messi was theirs. He was The One, the once-in-a-lifetime star.

Few cities create this type of relationship with an athlete, the bond Messi formed with Barcelona.

Sure, it would come to an end. Nothing lasts forever. Messi would leave. Like any great thing in sports, the story took an unexpected turn. After 21 years, he went to Paris Saint-Germain, a French superpower owned by the emir of Qatar, who was eager to spend on superstars. Messi cried at his farewell press conference. He said he didn’t want to leave. He felt he had no choice. The club was saddled with debt, and La Liga financial restrictions made it impossible for him to stay.

“This is very hard for me after so many years, after being here my entire life,” he said amid the tears of his press conference. “I wasn’t prepared.”

When he appeared in his new uniform, it just seemed wrong. Like so many legends who played out their career for strange teams, his new kit only made people sad — sad that Messi’s time with Barca was officially over, just another fading memory. But they were not angry with Messi. His departure produced grief, not bitterness. The unworthy owners of the club were seen as the villains. They had allowed this to happen. They had destroyed the perfect relationship. He is Messi. No matter where he goes or where he plays, he will always be part of Barcelona.

One Night in Barcelona

On this night in Plaza Molina, Messi produced a goal that will be replayed over and over again for years to come. His moves will be analyzed; the tale exaggerated. Later, some will debate whether it was the greatest goal of all time, even though Messi created many other worthy contenders. In fact, it was simply one spectacular goal in a long list of spectacular goals: one more epic match in a decade of epic matches. And yet this one will survive in memories, in that special way sports moments transcend logic and time.

In bars and living rooms and cafés around the world, fans of the game gasped and cheered, overcome by Messi’s brilliance. Together they shared the ecstasy, awe and wonder of the goal. Even Barca rivals had to acknowledge and appreciate the beauty of the moment. “He is the best player of all time,” defeated Bayern manager (and former Barca manager) Pep Guardiola told reporters later. “I am so happy to see this football.”

In the Plaza Molina café, for this one night, we joined together, appreciating the glory of what we had just witnessed. There were no divisions or politics or economic hardships. I could not speak enough Spanish to express myself to the old man in the worn brown overcoat sitting next to me, but we used gestures to replay the goal. The college students joined us, imitating Boateng’s moment of disgrace.

We would all remember this moment, the night Messi turned Boateng into a dancer. We will share the memory around dinner tables and in pubs, passing the stories on to children and grandchildren. As long as there is YouTube, people will be able to watch and experience the announcer’s astonishment, the beauty of the moment in real time. It will live in the same way Babe Ruth calling his home run lives on, or the night Kobe dropped 81 against the Raptors. Only great sports stars and tragedy can create these types of shared events, the times that define our memories.

As the game ends in victory for Barca, explosions boom through the city, and the square fills with fans. There is a buzz in the room that lasts long after the end of the match. No one wants to leave. The Goal is the only topic of conversation. The bartenders and waiters are busy filling glasses; business is good, and spirits are high. Tonight, Messi delivered, and we are all witnesses to something that will live forever.

In the opening scenes of “City of Shadows,” a man is hung from the roof of Gaudí’s famed Casa Milà, a UNESCO World Heritage site, and burned alive. Viewers who stick around will be treated to visual tours of several other Gaudí sites and old Barcelona’s neighborhoods, some with a burning body and others without.

For fans of Barcelona, “City of Shadows” embraces the city like few productions, taking full advantage of the city’s charms and mysteries. Almost every scene finds a new eye-catching Barcelona locale to spotlight, to the point it can seem like a tourism bureau video, except, of course, for the burning bodies.

Overall, the series — Netflix’s latest efforts to mine the Spanish market — is a cliché crime procedural, following two stern-faced detectives, each wrestling with their own demons, as they track a serial killer(s) — spoiler alert! — who is dubbed, the “Shadow of Gaudí.” But it is a fun watch simply to see the actors moodily striding through Barcelona’s streets and best-known tourist attractions, even if it has little to do with the plot. (The series turns the city into “a central character within the story,” promotional materials promise.)

Beyond using the tourist sites as a backdrop, the script dives a teeny bit deeper into the city’s psyche, dropping references to the shifting forces that shape Barcelona. There are mentions of separatists and the bourgeois, and the old families that ruled Barcelona for decades. One ill-fated women is fighting expropriation of her home near Parc Güell. Archival footage is used in every episode to flash back to the Barcelona of the late 20^th Century, a depressed city slowly coming back to life, with many of the old neighborhoods demolished in the name of progress.

But the real star here is Gaudí and his legacy of inspiring and mysterious buildings. Each episode is framed around a Gaudí project, with narration providing helpful background on each site, making “City of Shadows” the rare crime show that seems a little educational.

Gaudí fans can decide for themselves if they like the idea of their hero’s creations used as the setting for a series of horrific murders, but there’s no doubt his gloomy creations serve as fun locations for a murder romp. And the producers received broad access to the sites, providing glimpses into areas that many tourists can’t (or don’t bother) to explore.

The show takes you inside several less-traveled Gaudí buildings, including Palau Güell, the mansion off La Rambla that Gaudí designed as the home for his chief benefactor, Eusebio Güell. There are also lengthy scenes at Colonia Güell, a stalled attempt to create a modernist industrial community for Güell’s textile operation, about 25 miles from Barcelona. The detectives spend a night in the Gaudí Crypt, the foundation of a massive unfinished church in Colonia Güell that was a testing ground for many of the ideas Gaudí would use in Sagrada Familia.

Beyond Gaudí, the producers work hard to incorporate different elements of Barcelona into the story. The lead detective, perennially troubled Milo Malart (Isak Férriz), lives in a crummy dive in Barceloneta and unwinds with swims in the Mediterranean. An interview takes place at Casa Vicens, Gaudí’s first residential design, which opened to the public in 2017. Several scenes are shot on Montjuïc; a witness is chased through Vila Olímpica, the waterfront neighborhood created for the 1992 Olympics.

Disenfranchisement and the destruction of working-class Barcelona neighborhoods is ultimately one of the show’s central themes, which is not something that comes up in many network-TV-level, serial killer-chasing crime dramas.

“None of this existed before the Olympics,” Malart moodily tells his partner as they drive along the waterfront. “It was a full-on cleanup operation.”

The series is not exactly a love letter to Barcelona — see: repeated burning bodies — but it still manages to capture elements that unmentioned in the tourist books. Horrible things happen in the Barcelona of “City of Shadows,” a city once ruled by evil men, and that’s something you don’t learn from YouTube vlogs.