Summer in Barcelona: A Life Woven in Heat, Salt, and Sound

For me, summer in Barcelona doesn’t begin on a calendar — it begins with Sant Joan. Days before the official celebration, fireworks start crackling across the city, filling the air with a chaotic, electric energy that only locals truly understand. But it’s bittersweet: for pet owners, it’s a stressful time spent calming anxious companions.

June 23rd, Sant Joan’s main day and the night of the summer solstice, marks the true start of the season. Friends and families gather on terraces and in courtyards, sharing cava, wine, and long conversations. If you’re lucky with your location, you catch views of fireworks lighting up the sky.

Then comes the first week of July — and with it, the running of the bulls in Pamplona. I’ve never gone in person, but I always wake up early to watch it on TV. It’s become a morning ritual. There’s something about the spectacle, the danger, and the tradition — it signals that summer has truly arrived.

After more than 20 years in Barcelona, these rituals have become part of me. Each summer adds a new layer of memory to the last, weaving together a season that feels both timeless and ever-changing.

When the heat sets in, the urge to get outside becomes instinctive — especially in apartments where airflow is limited, boxed in by surrounding buildings. I’d hop on my bike early in the morning and ride to the beach. The air was fresh and light, the perfect time to move. First came Barceloneta, then Vila Olímpica, Bogatell, and if time allowed, all the way to Montgat Nord. One of my favorite detours was through La Rambla del Poblenou, where the energy built with beachgoers heading out, festive and alive.

Over the years, things have changed. Once quiet spots like Montgat Nord are now crowded by mid-morning. The best way to beat the rush is still the simplest: go early. That’s when you share the beaches mostly with older locals who know the same secret.

Some days, instead of the beach, I’d climb up to Parc de Montjuïc — a peaceful escape, perfect for reading or picnicking. It often felt like no one else had discovered it. Just a short walk from Sants, it became one of my favorite ways to cool down in the thick of summer.

After a morning swim, I’d bike along the port to the Museu Marítim, sit down for a beer, and take in the moment. It wasn’t about the drink — it was about the ritual. The solitude. The cool glass in my hand, the scent of salt on my skin, the city slowly waking around me. On Sundays, I’d skim through La Vanguardia or El País. It was one of those small, perfect moments that didn’t ask for anything more.

Sometimes, summer brought unexpected joy. One evening, I rode to Barceloneta for an open-air cinema by the sea. They were playing Mamma Mia!, and as Meryl Streep belted out ABBA songs, the crowd began to sing along. Barefoot on the sand, the screen glowing, waves crashing just behind us — everything felt light, free, and completely right.

Another favorite was the Montjuïc open-air cinema, where you could picnic on the castle lawn and watch a film under the stars, the whole city twinkling below. Those nights captured something essential: joy that needed nothing more than a blanket, a movie, and good company.

For years, Sants was my neighborhood. Time passed quietly there. Summer meant visits to Mercat de Sants, a cold beer or glass of cava at a Catalan bodega, and a plate of local specialties. From there, a stroll to Parc de Can Batlló, or up to Plaza España to catch the pyromusical shows on summer evenings. It always felt like home.

Barcelona in summer is full of moments like these. Some loud and unforgettable — like the Festa Major de Gràcia, where I’ve pushed through crowds in the decorated streets. Others are quiet and deeply personal — anchovies and vermut in a small bar in Sants, reading in the shade of Parc Montjuïc, or escaping the heat inside Santa Maria del Mar.

Now, when I think of summer, I think in fragments: bikes and beaches, sweat and laughter, the clink of glasses, the smell of sunscreen, fireworks lighting up the Sant Joan sky, the silence of early morning rides. Living here for two decades taught me not just to endure summer, but to live it — deeply, fully, and sensually.

Barcelona doesn’t rush you in summer. It invites you to slow down, to wander, to surrender to its rhythm. And even now, after all these years, I still do.