Barcelona Snow: Better Late Than Never

Winter comes late in Barcelona, or more habitually, not at all. In the five years I’ve lived here, I’ve never, not once seen snow in the city center.

Barcelona winter is about rain and wind whistling through shoddy post-civil war windows and doors. On the move on the streets, gloves are far from a necessity, but in my apartment, where I swear by everything that is holy, it is often colder than it is outside
, I’ve often considered them. But central heat and air is a luxury for more established Barcelonians, not would-be artistic types who spend every spare euro cent on art supplies and budget travels. Established Barcelonians with children usually have to spend beaucoup euros on trips to other parts of Catalonia or Spain so that their children can see snow for the first time.

But today in the midst of rising temperatures and so much rainfall, huge flakes of snow begin their downward spiral finally landing, no, dissolving into messy puddles. The invasion is unsuccessful, but has certain repercussions. Abandoned newspapers become papier-mâché, French for chewed up paper. Unfortunate solids, dog excrement, and moldy breadcrumbs strewn about to feed pigeons stream and swirl around the careful footsteps of passersby. 

The space between clouds and earth is electric, green-grey spotted with white. Little old ladies look up from wet feet and peek out from under their umbrellas. The sky crackles and thunder reverberates as my favorite variation on the thunderstorm begins: thunder-snow. Deep grumblings from the clouds send so many ice crystals flailing down upon a foreign land. But unlike their predecessors, power in numbers will win the battle for this second, violent round of snow. Barcelona has been taken, and is currently occupied by parked cars, balconies and palm trees blanketed in white. Slush in shades of grey, black and brown forms banks along the curbs and spreads its slippery fingers across streets and sidewalks

Despite the shrill whining of ambulances all around and sopping wet hair, I feel I’m in the presence of a small but important miracle. Parents snap pictures of children playing in a magical substance they have never seen in their city and teenagers engage in slush-ball fights.

On the evening news, serious grey haired men, and their younger, more attractive female counterparts comment on cancelled trains, buses and traffic difficulties. I try not to laugh, as I think about a Midwestern city shutting down after a meager serving of watery snow. Apparently, this is the most snow they’ve had in Barcelona City center in over 25 years. Now I can’t help  but shake my head. Winter and Barcelona. I shrug. Well. Better late than never.

Here’s a video of the snowfall in question at inconic Barcelona sites: