Gines

The 8.15am to Seville is already packed when it pulls away from Gines station, carrying office workers who've chosen village life over city rents. Fifteen kilometres west of Seville's cathedral, this commuter settlement sits 123 metres above sea level on the Aljarafe plateau, high enough to catch Atlantic breezes that locals insist make summer nights bearable.

Unlike the whitewashed fantasy villages marketing departments love, Gines feels lived-in rather than preserved. The medieval core survives as a compact knot of narrow streets around the 14th-century Iglesia de Santa María Magdalena, but modern development spreads outward in estates of identical terracotta roofs. It's neither chocolate-box pretty nor dramatically ugly – just a functioning Spanish town where the bakery opens at 7am and grandparents still occupy the same plaza benches their parents warmed.

The Church That Survived Everything

Santa María Magdalena's brick bell tower dominates the skyline, though calling it a skyline feels generous. The church mixes Gothic-Mudéjar foundations with later Baroque additions, creating an architectural timeline visible in stone. Inside, the retablos gleam with gold leaf that survived Napoleon's troops, the Civil War, and questionable 1980s restoration attempts. Opening hours vary – morning Mass brings the best chance of entry, though flash photography during communion will earn sharp words from the sacristan.

The surrounding lanes follow medieval patterns, widening unexpectedly into small plazas where neighbours gather at dusk. Calle Nueva contains the best-preserved 18th-century houses, their stone doorways carved with family coats of arms from when Gines prospered through olive oil and orange exports. The Plaza de España functions as outdoor living room, with the Casa de la Cultura occupying a former mansion whose iron balconies rust gently in the humid air.

What Locals Actually Eat

Forget molecular gastronomy. Gines specialises in functional food for people who work hard and eat late. Bar La Parada serves tortilla thick as house bricks, the egg still runny in the centre. Their montaditos – small rolls filled with prawns, pork or morcilla – cost €1.80 each, making lunch for two cheaper than a London coffee. Bar Manolo opposite does better coffee but closes unexpectedly when Manolo feels like fishing.

The weekly Friday market fills Calle Real with stalls selling vegetables from nearby Vega del Guadalquivir. Seasonal produce arrives with price tags that make British farmers' market shoppers weep – five kilos of oranges for €3, bunches of herbs for fifty cents. The olive oil comes from cooperatives in neighbouring villages; buy it in five-litre containers like everyone else, then decant into smaller bottles for the journey home.

Evenings mean tapas, but don't expect innovation. Papas aliñás (cold potato salad with tuna) appears everywhere during summer, while winter brings stews heavy with chickpeas and local chorizo. The wine list rarely extends beyond regionally produced tempranillo, served in glasses thick enough to survive enthusiastic conversation.

Walking Off The Carbs

The Aljarafe plateau offers walking routes that connect Gines with neighbouring villages across olive groves that predate the Reconquista. The PR-A 320 trail heads south-east towards Valencina, following country lanes where traffic means the occasional tractor. Spring brings wildflowers between the gnarled olive trunks; September smells of fermenting grapes from small vineyards clinging to south-facing slopes.

These aren't wilderness hikes. You'll pass farmhouses where dogs bark territorially and irrigation channels run with water from underground aquifers. The plateau rises gently rather than dramatically – think Cotswold rolling rather than Lake District rugged. Distances between villages suit British walkers perfectly: six kilometres to Valencina, eight to Mairena, each with bars serving cold beer and questionable toilets.

Summer walking requires early starts. By 11am from June through September, temperatures hit 35°C and shade becomes theoretical. Winter brings the opposite problem – Atlantic weather systems sweep across the plateau, turning paths to mud and making that promised bar lunch essential rather than optional.

When Gines Stops Being Sleepy

Late August transforms the village entirely. The Feria de Gines occupies temporary grounds on the western edge, where casetas (striped tents) host four days of dancing, drinking and neighbourly competition over whose paella tastes most like grandmother's. Unlike Seville's famous feria, this remains resolutely local – visitors welcome, but nobody's pretending you're experiencing authentic Spain™. The fairground rides look exactly like British equivalents, just with better music and worse safety inspections.

Holy Week brings processions that squeeze through medieval streets barely wider than the floats. The local brotherhoods carry statues dating from the 17th century, their carved wooden faces worn smooth by centuries of incense and candle smoke. Thursday night's procession starts at midnight and finishes after 3am; following the entire route earns serious cultural credentials and very sore feet.

May's Cruces de Mayo sees neighbours competing to create the most elaborate flower-covered crosses, strategically positioned to block maximum traffic. The event combines religious devotion with municipal one-upmanship, plus the practical advantage of clearing winter debris from patios under the guise of decoration.

Getting There, Getting Around

Gines station sits oddly distant from the village centre – twenty minutes' walk through residential streets where hire cars look alien between parked Seat Ibizas. Trains to Seville Santa Justa run every thirty minutes, taking eighteen minutes and costing €2.55 each way. The last service back leaves Seville at 11.30pm, forcing difficult choices between another drink and a thirty-euro taxi.

Driving makes more sense for exploring the region. The A-49 motorway connects Gines to Seville in fifteen minutes outside rush hour, though morning traffic towards the city crawls from 7.30am onwards. Parking in the village centre challenges British spatial awareness – locals treat one-way systems as suggestions and double-parking as birthright.

Bus services exist but operate on Spanish time, meaning early on weekdays, sporadically on Saturdays, and according to lunar cycles on Sundays. The 28 route reaches Seville's Plaza de Armas in twenty-five minutes when the driver feels motivated.

The Honest Truth

Gines won't change your life. It offers no Instagram moments requiring hashtag restraint, no discoveries to make friends jealous back home. What it provides is Spain without the filter – a place where British visitors can drink decent coffee for €1.20, eat lunch among locals who ignore you politely, and experience commuter-belt life fifteen kilometres from one of Europe's great cities.

Come for a morning, combine with afternoon sightseeing in Seville, or use it as base for exploring the Aljarafe's olive groves and Roman ruins. Just don't expect charming – expect real, with all the mundane beauty that entails.