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obody doubts that Sants street is one of the most important commercial arteries in Catalonia –and in the whole world–. Those with good memories will recall that the street's layout dates back to the ancient Via Augusta, that toll-free AP7 that allowed the tarraconenses to go up to Barcino for their summer holidays. Despite Roman efforts, all of that would be fields until the mid-19th century, when some of the great factories of the era were established, such as the Batlló and Güell steam mills (before decentralizing to the Santa Coloma de Cervelló colony) or España Industrial, the largest cotton mill in the country.
To a large extent, the thousands of workers –or rather, female workers– who operated the textile machinery also settled in the neighborhood, and this commercially revitalized Sants street –or Creu Coberta, the name varies depending on the section– fostering the Sants and Hostafrancs markets, but also the omnipresent cooked legume shops, the fast food of the time, ready-made food for workers with little time. As abundant labor was required, the neighborhood welcomed Valencian and Murcian families from the first great migratory wave, and some of the first examples of department stores were also inaugurated, such as El Barato and its sales –an outlet avant la lettre- on the corner of Riera street, the childhood territory of Núria Feliu (proud giantess of the neighborhood). Ten years later, the child who would wander through these parts, specifically Tenor Masini, is Quim Monzó, who, if I remember correctly, features the neighborhood bars in L'udol del griso al caire de les clavegueres, in that chapter where, to listen to music, they put a coin "in the vagina of the jukebox".
The metro arrived on Sants street in 1926, in April 1969 the last tram ran –replaced by the bus of the same number, the 56– and at some undetermined point in recent years, tourists arrived, staying in airbnbs or in the new zen hotels, eating peeled fruit and only approaching the market to buy Barça shirts. As happens in all commercial avenues in the West, Sants street currently hosts historical shops, such as the centenary Daguerre photographic studio, alongside new cloned franchises –of bakeries, ham shops or mattresses– that uniform everything, to the point that at first glance you don't know if you are in Barcelona or Dublin.
I have never been clear about where Sants street ends (for some it reaches Esplugues, for others Sant Just Desvern), but we do know perfectly well where it begins: kilometer zero is the ruined Plaça d'Espanya, with the unspeakable Hotel Plaza and the Richard Rogers flying saucer landed on top of the bullring. But starting with so many absurdities is ideal for Sants street, and bodes well that the walk will only get better.
About Sants street, I only regret the marketing campaign that presented it as the longest shopping street in Europe. At first glance, such a slogan might look good, but a Google search quickly debunks it, and reveals a fierce continental competition to see who can make the biggest claim: the Viennese are convinced that their Mariahilferstrasse holds this honor, in Bordeaux they claim it is Rue Sainte-Catherine, while in Poland they argue that the street with the most kilometers of shops is Ulica Piotrkowska in Łódź. And further north, the competition continues: in Copenhagen they are convinced that this pride falls on Strøget street, while Berliners proudly maintain that the longest commercial axis on the continent is Kurfürstendamm avenue.