Several children play with the ball, the first reeds of the afternoon unfold and one thinks that the Cecilia Roth of All about my mother will appear from the balcony at some point. Contrasts are part of Allada-Vermell street, a corner of the neighborhood of La Ribera de Barcelona born from two arteries (the old Allada and Vermell streets) once separated by a demolished city block on the eve of the 1992 Olympics.
The result of the rehabilitation was a Venetian square full of stories, color, bohemia and plants.
The best example we find when approaching an old six-story building dressed in exotic greens and planters that seem to levitate. And for a moment, one comes to mind Blue Sky Chlorophyll , a book by the Italian author Bianca Pitzorno whose protagonist, an alien plant, turned the city into a jungle. Today, number 12 Carrer de l'Allada-Vermell looks like a remnant of that green cloud.
No instagrammer, gardener or architecture lover has been able to resist his charm. well you know Lucky, the endearing caretaker of this garden that would have fascinated Paulina de la Mora herself.
The most beautiful (non-modernist) façade in Barcelona.
THIS HOUSE OF FLOWERS IS ALSO COOL
There is no doorbell or doorknob, but the door to the building is open. and the certainty invades you that people always come and go. When asking, someone sings "Lucky, they're looking for you", until a man with knowing eyes and a punk T-shirt arrives with trays of food for a late-night meeting.
He looks at the clock and points to the street: You can always sacrifice an hour for a beer on the next terrace.
native of Galicia, Luis "Lucky" Estevez He owes his nickname to the Lucky Luke comics that he devoured as a young man and from which he has inherited the imprint of an urban cowboy: At 60, he has done everything from working as a waiter at the nearby Mensakas bar to dismantling stages for concerts by U2, The Police or Pink Floyd. The plants came by chance.
Lucky, the guardian of the garden.
"I started 6 years ago to place pots on the first three floors and at the entrance" , Lucky tells Condé Nast Traveler. “I have come to have up to 90 pots: yuccas, avocado, basil, thyme, rosemary, aloe vera and even lemon and fig trees . I have bought many of them or I find them, and if I see that I can recover them, I bring them with me. There are other plants that have been left to me by neighbors who have moved or left the neighborhood.”
Lucky assures that the demolition of the block that separated Allada and Vermell streets allowed much more light to enter to be able to plant, although it is not always easy to ensure maintenance: “during the pandemic I reduced the number of pots because in the quarantine many took figs or lemons , they even relieved themselves in pots”, he adds resignedly, although he points out that many neighbors cooperate with the project , both residents and local businesses or the nearby L'Hortet del Forat, a neighborhood flagship urban garden: “I have also fixed the flowerpots in this bar or those in the hairdresser,” says Lucky, pointing to the banana trees.
Fertilizer, irrigation and light, but above all love, a lot of love, is Lucky's secret to keep alive this place that for him is the best refuge: “I talk to the plants and play classical music for them. It's the best trick to relax them."
Many neighbors cooperate with the project.
THE ‘INSTAGRAM ETHICS’
Lucky's initiative was soon discovered by the almighty radar of Instagram, social network expert in discovering new postcards per second.
In the case of the façade, the instagrammers and influencers they arrived under rain of sticks selfie to take the precious photo, especially on a wooden bench removed after a few months. later they arrived the spots of television and even couples of newlyweds who take advantage of this corner for their photo album.
There is no doorbell or doorknob, but the door is always open.
“Several spots and even episodes of series have been shot in this building, but…” continues Lucky. The “but” that draws the eternal dilemma of the new “Instagram assets”: should i charge for it? Many of the neighbors have proposed to Lucky to charge 1 euro for each photograph, but the Galician "sees it ugly" , except perhaps in the case of filming in which he must do without his privacy in a more obvious way.
"I'm not considering charging anyone money, but maybe I will install a donation box for the maintenance of the garden" , continues Lucky, whose gaze soon gets lost in the facade: “I would love to put a vine over the door”. Meanwhile, I order another round and Lucky laughs. Sometimes two beers is enough.
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