Piedrabuena

The church tower of Nuestra Señora de la Asunción rises above low white houses like a compass needle, visible from every approach road into Piedrabuena. It's the first thing that orientates visitors, and the last thing locals see when they drive away across the ochre plains. This is a town that measures distance by landmarks rather than kilometres, where directions start with "from the tower..." and end with a wave towards the dehesa oaklands that roll south towards the Montes de Toledo.

A Working Town, Not a Stage Set

Piedrabuena's 4,300 inhabitants don't perform rural Spain for anyone. The butcher's shop on Calle Nueva still displays rabbits with fur on, the Saturday market spreads across Plaza de España with no souvenir stalls between the vegetable seller and the man who repairs agricultural machinery, and the bar next to the petrol station serves gin for €3.50 that would cost £8 in Gatwick. Life happens at Castilian speed: the bank closes at 2pm, the evening paseo begins at 8pm sharp, and nobody serves dinner before 9.30pm.

The town centre folds into itself like a well-used pocket. Three streets running parallel, four crossing them, that's essentially it. Within this modest grid you'll find two butchers, one proper bakery (closed Mondays), a pharmacy with a 24-hour vending machine for emergencies, and Bar California where the tortilla arrives still bubbling from a pan handled by the same woman since 1992. The houses wear their age honestly: some facades date to the 18th century, others got new aluminium windows in 2005. Nobody's pretending this is a film set.

The Hunt, The Kitchen, The Table

October brings the montería season, when hunters in green Wellington boots gather at dawn by the petrol station, dogs barking from Land Rover boots. Whether you approve or not, this is the economic and cultural calendar that drives Piedrabuena's year. The results appear in every kitchen: wild boar stewed with cloves and bay from local trees, partridge preserved in olive oil that's pressed 40 kilometres south in Villarrubia, venison chorizo hanging in back-room cellars that stay at 14 degrees all year.

At Mesón El Yugo they serve a cazuela de ciervo that tastes of thyme and smoke, accompanied by bread that's really an excuse to mop up the sauce. The menu changes with what walked into the previous week's hunt - if you want the boar, phone ahead. Vegetarians get migas: breadcrumbs fried with garlic and grapes, originally shepherd food now elevated to Thursday lunch status. Everything arrives with local Manchego that's never seen plastic packaging, cut from wheels stacked behind the bar. The wine list stretches to three reds and one white, all from Valdepeñas, all under €15 a bottle. They don't do coffee; you walk next door for that.

Rivers, Wetlands and What Lies Between

Twenty-five kilometres north-east, the Tablas de Daimiel National Park interrupts the agricultural plain with a sudden burst of water. What looks like rice paddies from the road are actually the last remnants of Spain's tableland wetlands, where the Guadiana and Cigüela rivers create shallow lagoons that turn into natural mirrors at sunset. Spring brings spoonbills and herons in numbers that make British nature reserves feel empty; autumn sees migrations that fill the sky with formations heading south.

The park's wooden boardwalks extend barely three kilometres - this isn't the Broads, and nobody's pretending otherwise. What makes it special is the contrast: after hours driving through olive groves and wheat fields, water suddenly exists everywhere. The visitor centre shows the wetland's slow death and partial resurrection through EU water management policies, a story more honest than most environmental narratives. Entry costs €7 for adults, free after 3pm for EU citizens which still includes British passports despite Brexit, though the ranger asks you to mention you arrived before 31 December 2020 if questioned.

Back in Piedrabuena territory, the Bullaque River offers shade that feels precious when summer temperatures touch 42 degrees. The riverside path starts opposite the municipal swimming pool (€3 day entry, open June to September) and follows the water for six kilometres through cork oak forest. Nobody's maintaining this as a tourist route - the sign's half missing, the surface varies between gravel and mud - which means you might meet exactly nobody, or share the path with a local on horseback who'll nod but won't break stride.

Saints, Virgins and All-Night Parties

Mid-August transforms the town. What began as a religious celebration for the Assumption has evolved into Piedrabuena's annual reunion. Grandchildren who moved to Madrid return with city accents, the plaza fills with plastic chairs and families who haven't shared dinner since Christmas, and the temporary bar serves tinto de verano until the Guardia Civil suggest 4am is really quite late enough.

The morning procession involves more people than you'd think possible from such a small population. Women who've spent forty years in black still wear it, carrying the Virgin through streets where every balcony displays handmade banners. By evening the same plaza hosts a sound system playing Spanish pop from 1998, children still awake at midnight chase each other between dancing couples, and someone's grandfather teaches a toddler the basic steps of sevillanas.

September's Romería del Espino involves a three-kilometre walk to a pine grove where mass happens outside and lunch happens on tablecloths spread across the ground. You can participate without believing anything: the walk's pretty, the picnic's generous, and the wine gets shared with whoever's sitting nearest. Bring something to sit on and accept that white trousers won't stay white.

Getting There, Staying Put, Getting Away

The train from Madrid's Puerta de Atocha reaches Ciudad Real in 55 minutes on the AVE high-speed line (book early for €27 fares, pay €45 if you procrastinate). From there, buses to Piedrabuena run twice daily except Sundays, take 45 minutes and cost €4.20. Driving makes more sense: hire cars at Ciudad Real station start at £35 daily, the town sits just off the A-4 motorway, and parking's free everywhere except the plaza on market Tuesday.

Accommodation options reflect the town's lack of tourist infrastructure. Hostal El Parque offers eight rooms above a bar on the main road, €35 for a double with bathroom that's spotless if not recently decorated. The owners lock the door at midnight but provide a key if you ask nicely. Alternatively, Casa Rural Los Olmos provides three self-catering apartments in a converted 19th-century house, €80 nightly including breakfast delivered from the bakery. They've installed Wi-Fi that actually works and heating that becomes essential from October onwards.

Piedrabuena won't change your life. It's not trying to. What it offers instead is the chance to observe rural Spain continuing exactly as it has for decades, with or without your presence. The tower still orients locals, the hunters still gather at dawn, the bar still serves tortilla at 11am sharp. Visit, observe, eat well, then leave the town to its own rhythm. They were keeping time perfectly before you arrived, and they'll continue long after you've gone.