I Heart Fountain Cheese

I'd like to be able to say that I'm exclusively a fan of cheese in its edible form. I keep a safe distance from Las Ramblas and its gaudy human statues whenever I can. I never assent to have my caricature sketched for a price, though I will happily accept one gratis from an artistic friend. Nor do I allow others to purchase roses for me in bars; admittedly, that's largely because it's been a while since anyone has offered.

Yet, there is one piece of Barcelona cheese that I readily gobble up, rind and all. The cheese I refer to, of course, is the oozing triple cream of La Fuente Mágica (The Magic Fountain), whose effusive jets dance on summer evenings to the tune of various classical masterpieces blaring at a volume that threatens to wake the dead. As if that weren't enough, the entire spurting, swirling, misting extravaganza is illuminated with coloured lights to the delight of the tourist hordes crowding the steps up to the MNAC on the Plaça Espanya side of Montjuic mountain.

And I, long a lover of ecstatically erupting liquids on hot summer nights, cannot deny that I voyeuristically relish the spectacle.

(From May to September, there are multiple iterations of the show from Thursday to Sunday between roughly 9pm and 11pm. During the rest of the year, the shows are limited to Friday and Saturday between roughly 7pm and 9pm. There is no charge for this guilty pleasure.)