‘Cervezabeeeeer’ – is probably one of the first things you will hear as you set your foot on the mouse gray pavements of Barcelona. You can be a nun, for that matter, cervezabeeeeeer people will find you and try to sell you their modestly tasty, but immodestly overpriced booze. As you progress in tacking between them and the sellers of the squeakers, the ear will catch the trick of filtering the white noise and start hearing the music of the city.

Be it winter or summer, the music is always spilled in the air. Floating from one block to another, seeping through the open windows: someone on the fourth floor is drum jamming, the French girls with a funny dog are listening to the Swedish electro and – listen! – a group of fine fellows, probably a band on a tour, are singing a capella while waiting for their friend. And when the night falls, I will step on the balcony to check out on the white cat from the neighboring roof, and the rhythm will fill in the body, and the voice, strong as emotion itself will reach the soul. Street flamenco, unpolished and sincere, this is the true sound of Barcelona.

Film scholar and a tango fanatic, I was born in 1983 in the gloomy cold place called Estonia. I first visited Barcelona three years ago. The colors, the sounds, the smells, and the inimitable vibe of the city – it did not take long for Barcelona to put its spell on me! ‘This is a city I want to live in’, a thought kept spinning through my head while I was jostling through the endless flow of crowd at La Rambla. So now its your turn! Do yourself a favor, get on a plane/train/bus/car and let this city do its magics!