Montjuïc is a low flat-topped hill between the city and its port, and it is one long sloping park with museums folded into it. You walk from cactus terraces hanging over the container cranes into shaded gardens where water runs down a tiled stair, past Miró's white foundation and the Romanesque church murals of the MNAC. A star fort rebuilt from the 1750s sits behind dry moats on the summit. The air smells of pine and dust, and gulls come up off the harbour.
The hill is also the reason old Barcelona is the colour it is: the cathedral, Santa Maria del Mar and the sea walls were cut from this yellow-grey sandstone. Barcelona turned the slope into a stage twice — the 1929 world's fair terraced it with palaces, staircases and Carles Buïgas's Font Màgica, and the 1992 Olympics gutted the stadium and rebuilt it inside its 1929 shell. Stand on the steps on a night the fountain runs and thousands of jets rise, fold and change colour in time with music. The crowd banks up the steps below the floodlit Palau Nacional, and the rest of the hill stays dark above them.