La Almunia de Dona Godina

The brick tower of the Iglesia de la Asunción catches the morning light long before the sun reaches the valley floor. At 366 metres above sea level, La Almunia de Doña Godina sits just high enough for its skyline to announce itself early to drivers on the A-2. Most of them accelerate past, eyes fixed on Zaragoza 55 kilometres east or Calatayud 35 kilometres west. Those who do swing off the motorway discover a working market town where the weekly fruit auction still sets the rhythm of the week, not the tour-bus timetable.

A Plaza That Still Belongs to the Locals

The town’s gravitational centre is the broad Plaza de España, dominated by the Palacio de los Condes de Argillo. The sixteenth-century façade wears its brickwork like patterned knitting: diamonds, chevrons and moorish arches all executed in clay baked from the same river silt that feeds the surrounding vegetable plots. The palace now houses the municipal archive and a small exhibition room that opens, unpredictably, on Saturday mornings. Knock anyway; the caretaker lives round the corner and will often let you in for a quick look at the carved ceiling beams if you attempt a polite sentence in Spanish.

Opposite, the old town hall keeps its original arcade of semi-circular arches. Pensioners occupy the stone benches beneath, comparing prices for peaches while their grandchildren career around the fountain. On Fridays the plaza doubles as a car-boot market: one stall sells nothing but kitchen scissors, another offers mis-shapen tomatoes at €1 a kilo. Tourist tat is refreshingly absent; the nearest thing to a souvenir is a plastic bag of fruit emblazoned with the co-op logo.

Mudéjar Brick and River Mud

La Almunia’s tower is textbook Aragonese mudéjar: Christian bells in an Islamic-shaped cage of brick. You can climb it, but only if you have tracked down the key-holder first (try the tobacconist’s on the south side of the square – she keeps the ring of keys under the counter). Inside, the staircase is so narrow that descending parties have to press themselves against the wall while others squeeze past. The reward is a 360-degree view of the Jalón valley’s quilt of orchards, the A-2 a silent grey ribbon in the middle distance.

Walk five minutes north-east and the tarmac gives way to the sotos, the river-bottom woodland of elm and poplar that fringes the Jalón. Paths are flat, muddy after any rain, and popular with dog-walkers rather than hikers. Kingfishers use the drowned tree roots as fishing posts; if you sit on the concrete picnic table for ten minutes you will almost certainly see one flash past. The river itself is sluggish and shallow enough to wade in July, though locals will warn you that agricultural run-off makes a post-paddle shower advisable.

Lunch at Two, or Not at All

British stomachs need recalibrating. Kitchens close at 14:30 sharp and nothing re-opens before 20:00. Arrive at 13:55 and you will be welcomed; arrive at 14:05 and the chef has already left for his own meal. Restaurante El Patio, on the first floor above the chemist, does a three-course menú del día for €14 that includes half a bottle of wine and a coffee. The roast lamb tastes of rosemary rather than garlic, a safe introduction to Aragonese chilindrón for timid palates. Vegetarians should head for Restaurante Atalaya on Calle San Pedro, where the owner’s daughter spent a gap year in Brighton and understands the concept of meat-free Mondays.

Paying can be awkward. Many bars still treat cards as exotic, so withdraw cash from the Santander ATM on the plaza before you order. Tipping is simple: leave the small change if service was friendly, nothing if it was not.

A Base, Not a Bucket List

La Almunia makes no pretence of being a destination in itself. What it offers is parking that is both free and easy (ignore the subterranean signs – the barrier has been broken since 2019) and a location that lets you stitch together day trips without changing hotel. Calatayud’s wine route is 25 minutes west; the Roman ruins of Bílbilis swirl up a hillside another ten minutes beyond that. Eastwards, Zaragoza’s basilica and tapas lanes are three-quarters of an hour on the motorway, doable even for a half-day dash if you set the alarm.

Public transport exists but requires monkish patience. Two coaches a day trundle to Zaragoza; the Sunday return leaves at 19:00, which kills the afternoon unless you fancy a six-hour wait. Hire cars are cheaper at the airport anyway, and the drive across the valley is straight enough for even the most motorway-phobic driver.

When to Come, and When to Stay Away

April and May smell of blossom and the temperature hovers in the low twenties – perfect for walking the river path without risking heatstroke. September brings the fiesta of the Virgen de las Cabañas: a procession, a brass band, and stalls selling deep-fried pork at €3 a plate. The town doubles in population for the weekend; book accommodation early or you will end up 30 kilometres away in a roadside hostal built for truckers.

July and August are furnace-hot. The thermometer nudges 38°C by 11 a.m. and the streets empty as everyone retreats indoors. If you must come in midsummer, plan museum visits for opening time at 10 a.m., then follow the locals into the refrigerated gloom of the Consum supermarket for an ice-cream and a gossip.

Winter is crisp rather than picturesque. Snow falls once every couple of years and melts before lunch. More problematic is the cierzo, the wind that barrels down the Ebro valley at 60 kph and can make an outdoor coffee feel like a punishment. Cafés wheel their terraces indoors and conversation moves to the bar, where the television shows looped football highlights and the coffee is still 90 cents.

Leave time for the things that will not fit an itinerary: the scent of the peach-packing plant at 7 a.m.; the way the brick glows soft pink at last light; the surprise of hearing church bells compete with the distant rumble of the Madrid motorway. La Almunia will never shout for attention, but for travellers who prefer their Spain without a soundtrack of English voices, that is precisely the point.