Almería

The morning flight from Stansted drops through cloudless sky and lands at Europe’s driest city. While the Costa del Sol’s shuttle buses fill up and head west, Almería’s terminal empties fast. Most passengers are locals. That single fact tells you what kind of place this is.

Almería sits at sea level, 16 m above the Mediterranean, ringed by the only desert on the continent outside the Canaries. It receives 3 000 hours of sun a year yet remains an after-thought on British itineraries. The upside is space at the bar, hotel rooms under £70, and beaches where you can still lay a towel without booking at dawn.

A Fortress That Outranked the Alhambra

Start at the Alcazaba, the tenth-century fortress that looms over the port. It is older, larger and—whisper it—less choreographed than Granada’s headline act. Three walled enclosures climb 80 m up the hill; the climb takes 20 minutes and rewards with a 270-degree view of white cubes, container ships and the steel-blue sea. Inside, cisterns still fill with winter rain, oleander pushes through cracked battlements, and the only queue is for the single water fountain. Entry is €5.50; gates open at 09:00, earlier than the heat.

Descend the southern ramp and you spill into the casco histórico, a grid of lemon-coloured houses where geraniums drip from wrought-iron balconies. The cathedral looks more bunker than basilica: corner towers, arrow slits, a roof once armed with cannon. Built after the 1522 earthquake, it doubled as a refuge against Barbary pirates. A joint ticket (€10) adds the Convento de la Purísima next door, where cloistered nuns sell sweets through a revolving wooden hatch—ring the bell, state your order, leave cash.

Round the corner, the Centro Andaluz de la Fotografía occupies a restored mansion. Exhibitions rotate monthly; entry is free and the air-conditioning ruthless—useful intelligence for July visitors when pavement temperatures top 45 °C.

Lunch Like You Mean It

British stomachs still on Greenwich time will appreciate that Almería keeps the old Spanish lunch slot: 14:00–16:00. The Mercado Central, opened 1897, is the fastest shortcut to local calories. Stall 14 dispenses paper cones of jamón ibérico for €4; two stalls down, fresh mango juice costs €1.50 and comes with a plastic straw the diameter of a drainpipe. Upstairs, fried puntillitas (baby squid) are served in crusty rolls—no cutlery, plenty of napkins.

For a sit-down affair, Bodega Las Botas on Jovellanos has barrels signed by Hemingway’s ghost and a house rule: two tapas minimum per drink. Order a caña of Alhambra Especial (€2) and receive, unbidden, a plate of marinated dogfish. Repeat until the bar stools begin to sway; everything is priced between €2–€4, so the damage rarely exceeds £15 a head.

Plastic, Salt and Silver

Drive 15 minutes south-east and the city ends abruptly. Polytunnels—white plastic draped over bamboo—stretch to the horizon, a shiny sea that feeds northern Europe’s tomatoes in January. The contrast is brutal, but keep going. Beyond the greenhouses, the Cabo de Gata headland begins: 50 km of cliff, volcanic cove and road so empty you’ll stop to photograph the tarmac.

Los Genoveses beach, 11 km from the city limits, offers a kilometre of honey-coloured sand without a single high-rise. In winter you might share it with a retired couple from Oslo and their spaniel; in August arrive before 10:00 or the car park closes. No beach bars operate October–Easter, so pack water and shade.

Back towards town, the salt pans at Cabo de Gata attract flamingos from February to June. A wooden walkway lets you approach within 50 m; bring binoculars if you want to avoid smartphone photographers jostling for pink selfies.

Evenings That Start Late and Finish Later

Spanish timing is non-negotiable. At 20:00 the paseo begins: grandparents push prams along Paseo de Almería, teenagers compare trainers, the rest debate dinner plans. By 22:30 tables outside fill; by midnight the first gin-tonic appears, served in a balloon glass big enough to bathe a cat.

Calle de las Tiendas is the de facto pub crawl, but forget foam-party promotions. Bars are small, music conversational, prices pre-inflation: €6 buys a copa of decent whisky. The only English voices you’ll hear are Erasmus students or the occasional yacht crew killing time until repairs finish.

What the Brochures Don’t Mention

Almería’s climate is its blessing and curse. Rainfall averages 200 mm a year—less than Mars in some months. The upside is winter T-shirt weather; the downside is a landscape the colour of biscuits. If you need green hills and pasture, head north to Granada province.

The city is also a working port, not a theme park. Trucks rumble through the Avenida del Mediterráneo; the smell of diesel mingles with orange blossom. On cruise-ship days the Alcazaba receives 400 visitors by 11:00, still only a tenth of the Alhambra’s morning traffic but enough to clog the narrow gate. Check the port schedule online and plan accordingly.

Finally, public transport to the best beaches is patchy. Buses reach San José and Las Negras twice daily in high season, zero in winter. Car hire at the airport starts at €25 a day including insurance; the drive to Cabo de Gata takes 35 minutes and petrol is cheaper than the UK by 20 %.

One Night or Three?

Stay a single night and you’ll tick the fortress, the cathedral and a plate of grilled octopus. Stay two more and you can swim before breakfast, hike the coastal path to secluded Cala del Cuervo, and be back in town for a beer before the English news headlines air.

Hotels cluster between the cathedral and the beach. Torreluz Centro offers large rooms for €62 with breakfast; the four-star Aire Hotel throws in a rooftop pool and Roman-inspired spa for €120. All are within ten minutes’ walk of the tapas zone, so you can abandon the car keys until departure day.

Fly home from the same small terminal, sunburn peeling, shoes still full of desert dust. The passengers who raced straight to the coast will have spent twice as much and queued twice as long. Almería gives you the hours back—3 000 of them a year, lit and waiting.