Margot House

When you’re a stressed-out North American, there’s something about the Spanish lifestyle that appeals – wine, tapas, siesta, repeat…

So it was that somewhere between a major move, a career shift, and a very large family wedding, Mr Smith and I felt a greater-than-normal magnetism towards Barcelona.

While Mr Smith had visited the Catalan capital before (albeit in completely different circumstances involving half a dozen friends and a near constant supply of alcohol), I’d never been. But beyond a single reservation for lunch the day we landed, we’d organized next to nothing and had only a vague idea of where we wanted to explore – a rarity for a pair of hyper-planners.

After a somewhat squished (and sleeping-pilled) red-eye flight, and a quick cab ride into the city, we found ourselves at Margot House, a boutique hotel in its truest sense. We realized this immediately when there was no sign or awning save for a subtle sticker beside the building buzzer, not unlike that for our own Toronto apartment. After dozily taking the teeny elevator two stories too high (the sleeping pills still held their grip), we found the nondescript landing and the hotel’s reception.

We’d arrived into the blond-wooded Margot House to be greeted by a sweet receptionist, who not only gave us a room to freshen up in (ours wasn’t quite ready), but also answered all our somewhat garbled questions about how to get around, how to get a Spanish SIM card and how to procure advance tickets for Sagrada Familia (which she kindly arranged). My desire to plan was evidently overpowering that nascent jet lag.

We ate breakfast in the hotel’s shared kitchen space, home to a daily spread of cured meats, cheese, fresh fruit, yoghurt and pastries. Margot House’s common room (where we then took a couple of restorative espressos each) is their version of a lobby but much, much hipper: all mid-century Scandinavian furniture, myriad plants and flowers, a perfectly arranged bar and an artful book shelf.

‘It feels like we’re in Copenhagen’ said Mr Smith when we made it to our room. And he was right. Unlike the rest of Barcelona, which is all Gaudi, rich colours, and sculptural stone edifices, things here are sparse and extremely stylish. The walls are whitewashed and nary a piece of artwork bedecks them. The beds are low and comfortable; the bathrooms concrete and straightforward. They’re stocked with everything you need (Aesop toiletries included, which they also sell at reception), and nothing you don’t.

Besides the rain showers, excellent breakfasts, cloud-like beds, and high-design distractions (I fell for the Instagram bait and you will, too), the thing to be wary of when it comes to Margot House is the room you book. There are only nine in the hotel, so you might be limited in choice, but our window was onto an air shaft (albeit a very stylishly planted one) , which meant that when the lights were out, no matter the time of day, our room was pitch black. It turned out to be excellent for jet lag-induced siestas, but not so great for waking up from them; request room 1, 2, 4, or 5 for windows onto the street if you want natural sunlight – these rooms have plenty.

When we finally pulled ourselves together to leave, we emerged happy to discover we were directly across the street from the Loewe flagship store (my poor, poor credit card), Gaudi’s landmark Casa Batlló, and a few blocks from Casa Milà.

Barcelona is eminently walkable, and this perfectly situated hotel is in Eixample; El Raval, the Gothic Quarter, and Gracia – all neighbourhoods we explored on foot – are all satellites.

The hotel might have no restaurant of its own but the staff were full of suggestions for food (and all manner of cultural tip-offs). Following the receptionist’s recommendations, we wound up at a local festival where we were the only tourists – a situation that is always my priority when traveling to new places. And if you’re too shy to grill the staff as we did, they leave a lengthy list of goings-on in your room.

It all left us feeling very comfortable with our Barcelona routine: wine, tapas, siesta, repeat…