Barcelona didn't really have beaches until 1992. The waterfront was railway, factory and warehouse, turned to the sea only when the Olympics came and the city decided to face the Mediterranean at last. This walk is that gift, taken slowly, east along the sand from the marina to the quietest beach in town.
Three and a half kilometres, and emphatically a morning walk — before the heat, before the crowds, while the light is still low on the water. Start under El Peix, Frank Gehry's golden fish, woven from copper-coloured steel for the Games and still glinting over the marina. Circle it once.
The Port Olímpic comes next — yachts, the twin towers, the breakwater curving out. Then the beaches begin: Nova Icària first, named for a utopia that was never built, its xiringuitos setting out chairs. Take your shoes off. Follow the boardwalk past the beach bars; stop at whichever catches the sun for a cafè amb gel.
Inland a block sits the Cementiri del Poblenou if you want the contrast. Then the last beach, Bogatell — wide, calm, the one locals keep. Sit a while. Bogatell metro takes you back.


