After years of abandonment and works that were not completed or were completed poorly, Barcelona has rediscovered a gem: the Hivernacle in Ciutadella Park. That’s the face; the cross, the homelessness, so visible here. This is the first Saturday since the reopening of this space, which in the past hosted weddings, concerts, bonsai exhibitions, a restaurant and a nightclub, among other initiatives that failed to revive it.
The penultimate restoration, announced in 2015 with great fanfare by the City Council, was a fiasco and sgraffito and other highly valuable ornaments were covered up. What should have been done then (or in the previous partial works, from 1985 and 1995) has been done now. This winter palace finally shows off in all its splendor. Winter and the four seasons, because it will be open all year round.
The building will be one more piece of the so-called Ciutadella del Coneixement, which aims to turn this park and its surroundings into an important center of science and innovation. The City Council has not explained the role of the Hivernacle in detail. But sometimes the trees cover the forest. Here there are two obvious riches, the architectural and heritage treasure, which has been improved, and the plant, which could be improved.
Enriqueta Martínez (who almost shares a name with a black legend from the Raval) was one of the hundreds of neighbors who yesterday, in a festive and laudatory assault, took over this modernist jewel, one of the gifts that the 1888 Universal Exhibition gave to the city. , next to the Umbracle, which also needs updating, but not as ambitious as those required by the Museu Martorell or the Castell dels Tres Dragons.
More than Stendhal syndrome, Mrs. Martínez was concerned about the integrity of a Soleirolia soleirolii, which exerted an irresistible magnetism for her grandson Oriol. Despite everything, her grandmother and grandson gave a cum laude mention to the restoration. The visitors with whom this newspaper spoke share their enthusiasm… Some verses by Machado ask: “Are you the thirst or the water in my path?” And the press is eternally thirsty.
The Hivernacle has an open central nave and two glazed side naves: the Picasso (closest to the promenade of the same name) and the Magnolias (closest to the park). They all host plants from warm climates. The latter will also host exhibitions because, says the City Council, its space “is more functional and allows for recreational and educational use.” But the more one expects from this gem, the more other realities draw attention…
A few small chips, which will require touch-ups, turn the Picasso ship into those regal wedding suits with a little oil stain at the banquet. The pigeons’ droppings accumulate on one side of the other shed. The plant only has six palm trees (including two very young Chrysalidocarpus serpentinus, although time heals that, not like the sink at the information stand, which leaks water).
I wish another problem that the reborn Hivernacle has highlighted even more was also a minor issue: Barcelona is a city of contrasts. On the one hand, palaces of glass and iron. On the other hand, a record number of people sleeping on the street: at least 1,384, 12% more than last year, according to the count that Arrels Fundació made last week. And the Ciutadella is one of the zero points of homelessness in Barcelona.
Very close to the Hivernacle there are people without resources sleeping on benches or on the grass. In the park you can see many blankets, cardboard to combat the humidity of the ground and tents (yesterday there was one already set up next to the Museu Martorell construction booth). The arcades of Paseo Picasso also host a large representation of homeless people, who during the day keep their few belongings wherever they can.
Life is unfair. Nature is also good when it comes to baptizing her daughters, and this corner proves it. The insipid name of herba plana in Catalan (the Soleirolia soleirolii that was saved from Mrs. Martínez’s grandson) is transformed in Spanish into bride’s mattress or angel’s tears. The childish cintetes are transmuted into snake beards. Others are not saved in any language, such as the lluç thorn or sawtooth fern.
The young people at the information stand have seen how citizens have already made this space their own, unofficially reopened last week, although the launch will be this weekend. Selfies and another plague, tiktokers, have landed alongside groups of people of all ages. A sign reminds you that capacity is limited. “There are even dancers who come to record their videos.”
