Between Mom-and-Pop and Rooftop Pool: How the Blanquerna Corner Is Losing Its Character

Between Mom-and-Pop and Rooftop Pool: How the Blanquerna Corner Is Losing Its Character

Key question: Is the area around Blanquerna losing its identity — and who can still stop it?

On a mild morning walking along the Riera, you hear the clatter of scooters, the clinking of cutlery in new restaurants and occasionally the muffled bass from a hotel pool gym. The air smells of fried onions and chickpeas — somewhere a stew is simmering, the kind local hosts have been serving here for decades. At the same time, shop windows flash bright logos, sushi menus with avocado icons, and signs luring in English. This is the Blanquerna corner: a patchwork of original mom-and-pop shops, a retro cinema and tidy feel-good islands.

The change is not spectacular; it creeps in. Old grocery shops like the Sabater-like store, the little bar with its decades-old counter and the cinema with padded seats from the '70s still exist. Beside them, however, burger chains, sushi bars, stylish Italian eateries and a four-star hotel with a rooftop pool have moved in, as explored in Who Owns Palma? When Luxury Quietly Repaints the Working-Class Neighborhoods. Empty shop windows recall forgotten business models; on a ruin the name of a former bar still hangs. A coexistence is forming that won't stay side-by-side for long.

Viewed critically: gentrification is happening here in spots. New businesses bring money and visitors, but also rising rents and changing clientele. Those who live in this corner today may soon no longer meet the people who grew up here. It doesn't just replace shops; it changes the rhythm and sound of the neighborhood: less chatting on the sidewalk, more laptops at the café table.

What is often missing from the public discourse are concrete figures and the perspectives of residents. People talk about "chic" and "authenticity", but seldom about lease agreements, shop rents or the plans behind the new buildings. Cultural and social costs are hardly measured either: which craft businesses can still survive under the new conditions, as recent closures highlight in End of a Neighborhood Era: Can Comas on Aragón Street Closes After 29 Years? Who will be pushed out of the quarter because their grandchildren can no longer afford the inheritance?

A scene from everyday life: in front of the Taj-Mahl—uh, the small Indian eatery — two seniors in boots and windbreakers stand and flip through a notice. They laugh about the prices, swap memories of the old Sagrera bar, as examined in New residential building instead of Bar Sagrera? Dispute over the corner plot in Palma, and then move on, past a fashion boutique with skirts that are too short. On the Marquès a child sits on a stair landing; a construction crane outlines itself on the horizon.

So what to do? There are concrete approaches and they need political backing: 1) commercial spaces with term protection: short lease terms for startups, longer ones for traditional craft businesses. 2) funding pools for heritage shops that receive modernization funds if they secure local jobs. 3) rent caps or graduated rents for housing in transition areas, combined with a quota for affordable apartments in new buildings. 4) municipal pre-emption rights and community land trusts so that vacancies don't automatically give way to luxury properties. 5) a protection register for culturally significant places — cinemas, bars, bakeries — with small tax reliefs for operators.

These tools must be negotiated locally: neighborhood councils, business associations, urban planners and the affected residents should have a binding say. Otherwise the investor decides alone — and the corner will be polished smooth until only the names of the old shops cling to the facades.

Conclusion: the Blanquerna area is not a myth, it is a field of work. Anyone who likes Palma for more than a postcard should listen now: to the clatter of plates, the stories of the old hosts, the flicker of the Rivoli foyer. It's not only about nostalgia, but about the question of which city we want to recognize tomorrow morning at the espresso counter.