Has Barcelona gone loco in its battle against tourists?

In a bid to mitigate the effects of overtourism, the Catalan city has hit on a novel idea: a bus route used by those heading to the magnificent Parc Güell has been deleted from visitor maps and apps – with instant results. But, says Paul Clements, that still leaves it with one big problem

To deter visitors to Barcelona’s Parc Güell, the 116 bus route has been ‘hidden’ from tourist maps (Getty/iStock)

There’s something about Parc Güell that makes locals go loco – or boig, as they prefer we say when in Catalonia. Barcelonans are rightly proud and protective of their green lung, a vast, forested wonderland on a ridge overlooking the city that’s full of mind-bending, mosaic-tiled design touches, all inspired by nature: a giant, snaking bench, a colonnade shaped to look like tree trunks, a grand flight of steps in the form of a salamander…

Kitted out in spectacular Catalan art nouveau by Antoni Gaudí, the renowned architect who gave art-loving Barcelona its most recognisable landmarks, Parc Güell has in recent years become a flashpoint for concerns about overtourism – and what exactly can be done to limit it.

Alarmed by the 40-acre public space having hit nine million visitors a year, wardens of the city’s second most-visited attraction have tried introducing increasingly draconian measures to limit that number and the damage they can do to a fragile and unimprovable Unesco world heritage site.

Admissions are now strictly limited, to 1,400 visitors per hour. If you’ve not booked well in advance – sometimes weeks, in high season – there’s no guarantee of entry. If that doesn’t put you off, the prospect of joining the queue at the admittedly fabulously ornate park gates, in the baking, unshaded heat from the merciless Mediterranean sun just might. And if you don’t baulk at that, there’s the cost of entry, which was introduced in 2013: what was conceived as a public park now costs €10 per person to enter.

But nothing quite takes the edge off the magisterial Gaudí experience that awaits than the angry, anti-tourist graffiti stencilled on residential blocks that line the long, steep walk up to the park from the nearest Metro stations.

For a young and creative city as Barcelona, the slogans are typically a cut above the usual “go home!” daubings: “Your luxury trip – my daily misery.” “Tourists, we spit in your beers… cheers!” “Pickpockets welcome.” Some are even beautifully stencilled, rather than just spray-canned, in attractive block fonts.

But for some, the measures have not gone far enough; some 4.5 million still make the pilgrimage every year.

So the 116 bus route, one of the few to stop outside the park’s main gates, is being removed from tourist maps. The authorities have also convinced the likes of Google and Apple to wipe it from their transport apps.

Residents of the La Salut neighbourhood report that the seemingly outlandish idea, the kind that would normally get instantly dismissed during a town hall brainstorm, has had an immediate impact, with elderly residents able to find seats on buses that were once full of be-backpacked tourists taking up all the space.

It’s a rare instance of a simple measure actually doing some measurable good in tackling “overtourism”. That’s when a place enjoys such popularity, it winds up saturated with visitors, becoming impossible to enjoy either as a tourist or a resident. As well as creating busy hotspots and transport bottlenecks – because when visitors go somewhere, they all tend to go to the same place – basic services can become equally overwhelmed.

I got a first-hand taste of the overtourism movement in Barcelona 20 years ago, while I was on one of those open-top tour buses, showing my nan around my favourite city. As our bus slowed to turn a steep corner, we were waterbombed by gleeful residents in a nearby tower block; we were splashed but a Norwegian couple took the full force. The precision with which the water-filled balloon found its target suggested this prank was perfected long before.

As well as the “disappearing bus route” idea, authorities are now considering even more out-there measures, such as imposing water restrictions on tourists during the hottest months, to better preserve the resource for locals.

It seems the city will stop at nothing to limit the admittedly vast numbers of looky-lous that clog up Passeig de Gràcia, a major shopping destination, as they crane their necks to marvel at every playful detail of the “dragon house” Casa Battló, or the undulating masonry of La Pedrera, two of Gaudí’s most celebrated commissions.

Aware of the noise and environmental pollution that tourists bring to a town, the Ajuntament de Barcelona has started blackballing the building of new hotels in central neighbourhoods while clamping down on unregulated short-term rentals, which cause local rents to soar and exacerbate the housing shortage.

But in Barcelona, it’s the guerilla operations that really hit home. Last summer, official-looking signs appeared along the beachfront, warning of “falling rocks” and “dangerous jellyfish”. The fact they were in English should have been a giveaway: the small print, in Catalan, explained that “the problem isn’t rockfall, it’s mass tourism” – and that the beach is “open, except for foreigners and jellyfish”.

Perhaps the trouble is that Barcelona gives good Fomo. Last month, it was announced that Gaudí’s masterpiece, the Sagrada Familia cathedral, is set for completion in 2026, a century after the architect’s death. I spent an afternoon last summer exploring it, by which time all but one of its magnificent 18 spires had been completed, and just the tallest, the Tower of Jesus Christ, left to go up.

To see it in its immense, undeniable glory was, even for an atheist, a semi-religious experience. Just try and stop me from going back when it’s finished.