Villacañas

The smell hits first: sweet wood-shavings and hot pine. It drifts out of hangar-sized workshops on the industrial estate and mingles with dust from the surrounding cereal plains. Villacanas makes 70 % of Spain's cabinet doors; the hum of saws is the daily soundtrack for 10,000 people who live at 664 m on the bleak, beautiful plateau of La Mancha. Tourism is an afterthought here, which is precisely why the handful of British visitors who do arrive tend to stay longer than planned.

Below the wind

Seventeenth-century locals grew tired of the extremes that come with this altitude—ice-blue dawns in winter, furnace winds in August—and simply dug downwards. More than 1,000 silos, hand-hewn chambers up to 12 m deep, lie beneath the modern streets. Some were family homes; others doubled as wine cellars or grain stores. The temperature inside holds steady at 16 °C year-round, a natural defence against a climate that can swing from –8 °C at night in January to 40 °C at midday in July.

The small Museo del Silo (€3, cash only) lets you climb down a timber ladder into a restored warren of rooms. Walls are scalloped from chisel blows; niches still hold oil lamps. Guided tours last 45 min and run on the hour—turn up at five past and the caretaker will have locked up for lunch. If the museum is shut, wander two streets south to Calle Pozos de la Nieve where several privately owned silos have glazed skylights; owners will usually admit the curious for a euro or two.

Plains, birds and kilometres of straight road

Beyond the last houses the land unfurls like a beige ocean. This is Spain's steppe, criss-crossed by farm tracks that make perfect walking or cycling routes if you accept the lack of shade. In April the verges flare yellow with chamomile; by late May the cereal is knee-high and rustles like dry rain. Bring binoculars: great bustards—birds the size of a sheep—feed quietly among the wheat, while Spanish imperial eagles circle overhead. The best odds of sightings are along the dirt road signed "Laguna de la Carcamuela", 8 km west of town. Allow three hours there and back on foot, or 40 min by bike (no hire outlets in Villacanas; ask at Hotel Las Torres about loaning a town-hall bicycle).

Summer walking is feasible only between 07:00 and 10:00; after that the wind turns hair-dryer hot. Winter is crisp and often empty of people—perfect if you enjoy solitary miles, but carry water even in December; bars in the countryside close without notice.

What locals eat and when

Villacanas keeps Spanish small-town hours: shops open 10:00–14:00, 17:00–20:30; restaurants serve lunch 13:30–15:30, supper 21:00–23:00. Miss those slots and the only calories on offer come from the vending machine in the 24-hour petrol station on the CM-412.

If the timetable is respected, food is sturdy and cheap. Bar La Ruina plates a textbook pisto manchego (roasted aubergine, pepper and tomato topped with a fried egg) for €7. Casa Toribio specialises in carne en salsa—pork shoulder slow-cooked in mild tomato and clove, good value at €9 including bread and a glass of local clarete rosé. Both bars stand on Plaza de España; tables outside face the brick bulk of the sixteenth-century Iglesia de la Asunción, its square tower useful for orientation if you get lost in the identical side streets.

From mid-July to September melons arrive. The "Villacanas" variety has a striped rind and sugar content high enough to ferment if left in the boot of a hot hire car. Buy one in the Tuesday street market (before 13:00) and the stall-holder will slice it open with a penknife so you can eat it like a watery orange. The Feria del Melón (second weekend of September) turns serious: melon cheesecake contests, melon-keg beer taps, even melon-spitting measured with a builder's tape.

Getting there, staying over, getting out

No train reaches Villacanas; public transport is a single bus from Toledo (1 h 45 min, €6.45, three daily except Sunday). The realistic route for Britons is Madrid airport, pick up a rental car and head south on the A-4. After 115 km take exit 98; the CM-412 threads straight into town past the brick factory with its 60 m chimney. Total driving time from the airport is 70 min unless Madrid rush-hour swallows you—allow an extra 45 min on weekdays after 16:30.

Accommodation is limited. Hotel Las Torres (doubles €55–65) is clean, central and has an attached café that opens at 07:00, handy if you're leaving early for the steppe. Their underground garage keeps the car cool and costs €8 per night; reserve when booking because spaces equal the number of rooms. There is also a new hostel in the polígono industrial zone—cheaper at €25 but you'll need wheels to reach any restaurant open after 22:00.

Drive 20 km east and you hit Quintanar de la Orden where windmills painted white still grind flour; 30 km north brings you to the wetlands of Lagunas de Cervera, flamingos included. Toledo is an easy detour on the return leg, but factor in Spain's strict speed cameras—80 km/h looks pedestrian on the empty CM-412 yet fines start at €100.

Worth it?

Villacanas will never make a postcard rack. The town centre is a grid of rendered boxes enlivened by the odd wrought-iron balcony; bored dogs bark from flat roofs; on windy days dust ghosts down the main street. That honesty, plus the subterranean architecture you cannot see anywhere else in Europe, is the draw. Come for the silence under the wheat sky, stay for a lunch that costs less than a London sandwich, leave before the summer furnace ignites. And remember to carry coins: the past here is literally under your feet, but the people who guard it still prefer cash.