Barcelona is upside down. No child without a toy and no neighborhood without works in order to transform the city into the Mediterranean capital –and European, everything will work– for the summer stroller.
– And what are they doing here?
– Wider sidewalks!
Apparently, the sidewalks have to be wider, very wide, and there is no other alternative than to load traffic lanes so that soon we will be able to walk what is not written.
-Where are you going?
–A walk to work, xino xano. Rush kills!
If the 180,000 dogs of Barcelona go out for a walk every day, isn't it fair that the two million inhabitants do so and have wide sidewalks to stretch their legs, energize their hips and fight bicycles and scooters?
Mayor Ada Colau's hallmark is revolutionary: a city for walkers, without cars, without noise, without honks or chamfers to unload merchandise. A Barcelona made to measure for rentiers, insatiable retirees and professional footballers.
The more I see the friendly transformation of Barcelona, the more I anticipate its Costa Azul profile for everyone: focused on a citizen without obligations, who does not care about going from one place to another on one leg, at the cost of time and evil humor. The ideal place to spend the summer twelve months a year and live off the air, or on some other public assistance, such is the indifference to the damage to businesses -there are not enough walkers for so much walking-, the merchandise distributors and those who move for labor reasons, some insensitive ones who claim – how selfish! – the right to get from one point to another as soon as possible.
A city of spas and walkways, groves and boulevards, one-lane streets and whoever comes behind can drive if I have to stop, where traffic is hell and cars are evil when the car –and I don't have one– is freedom, autonomy and speed, except, of course, if you impose so many problems on it that its drivers spend the day insulting each other.
Martínez Soria would say today: this city is for me!
