Toro

The Duero River bends sharply beneath Toro's sandstone cliffs, creating a natural amphitheatre where vines have clung to the earth for over two millennia. From the Mirador del Espolón, the view stretches across ochre vineyards that shift from emerald to rust depending on the season, a patchwork that explains why this small Castilian town punches far above its weight in Spain's wine hierarchy.

The Art That Stops You in Your Tracks

Most visitors arrive expecting good wine. They don't expect the Portico de la Majestad. The 13th-century Romanesque portal of Santa María la Mayor collegiate church hits you sideways with its painted medieval sculptures—kings and prophets whose original colours still cling to the stone after eight centuries. British art historians rank it alongside the best of Santiago de Compostela's Portico de la Gloria, yet here you'll share it with perhaps a dozen other visitors rather than coach-loads of pilgrims.

The church's Byzantine dome rises above the town's honey-coloured walls, visible from miles across the Duero valley. Inside, the 15th-century Flemish altarpiece hides its namesake detail: look closely at the Virgin's cloak and you'll spot the painted fly that gives the piece its curious moniker. Local guides tell of restoration attempts that removed the insect, thinking it vandalism, before art historians insisted on its return.

Toro's architectural layers reveal themselves gradually. The truncated tower of San Lorenzo el Real stands octagonal against the sky, its Mudéjar brickwork patterning unique in this region. San Salvador de los Caballeros, now a sacred art museum, shows how Christian and Islamic craftsmen collaborated during the town's 12th-century zenith. Even the modernist Teatro Latorre, all curved balconies and decorative tiles, speaks to Toro's brief early-20th-century prosperity when wine exports boomed before phylloxera devastated the vineyards.

Wine That Precedes the Romans

The Denominación de Origen Toro predates Rioja by centuries. Pre-Roman settlers discovered that the local Tinta de Toro clone—tempranillo by another name—thrived in the extreme continental climate where summer temperatures regularly exceed 40°C and winter drops to -10°C. These ancient bush vines, some over 120 years old, produce tiny yields of intensely flavoured grapes that create wines of remarkable structure and longevity.

Bodega visits here feel refreshingly personal. At family-run establishments like Bodegas Fariña or Estancia Piedra, the owner might personally conduct your tasting, pulling samples straight from the barrel with a venencia. The robust reds pair naturally with local lechazo—milk-fed lamb roasted in wood-fired ovens until the exterior crisps while the interior stays improbably tender. Portions arrive sized for two; solo travellers should arrive hungry or prepared for leftovers.

The town's wine museum occupies a 16th-century palace on Plaza Mayor, where interactive displays explain why Toro's wines travelled to the New World with Columbus. Entry costs €3 and includes a tasting of two wines—excellent value compared to museum prices back home.

Practicalities Without the Platitudes

Toro sits 740 metres above sea level on Spain's central plateau, meaning temperature swings catch visitors off-guard. May mornings can start at 8°C before climbing to 28°C by afternoon. Pack layers, particularly for evening when the Meseta wind picks up. The town's compact size makes exploration straightforward; everything lies within ten minutes' walk of Plaza Mayor.

Parking inside the medieval walls proves tight and often full by 11am. The free riverside car park below the old town offers easier access—five minutes' uphill walk brings you to the historic centre. Everything shuts between 2pm and 5pm for siesta; plan lunch before 2pm or you'll find yourself hungry until evening service begins around 8.30pm.

One full day suffices for the main sights plus a winery visit. Many British travellers break journeys here between Salamanca (45 minutes west) and Madrid (under two hours southeast). The town makes an atmospheric overnight stop rather than a multi-day destination; two nights maximum unless you're seriously wine-focused.

When to Visit, When to Avoid

Spring brings wildflowers to the Duero valley and comfortable temperatures for exploring. September's grape harvest creates buzz in the bodegas, though weekend tastings book up with Spanish visitors. August's fiestas honouring San Agustín fill the town but bring crowds and inflated accommodation prices. Winter visitors find Toro virtually empty; some bodegas close and restaurants reduce hours, but you'll have the Romanesque portals to yourself.

The town's Semana Santa processions, declared of regional tourist interest, create haunting night-time tableaux as hooded penitents carry baroque floats through narrow medieval streets. Book accommodation months ahead if visiting during Easter week.

The Reality Check

Toro's charms come with caveats. The town wakes late and sleeps early; evening entertainment beyond bars and restaurants remains limited. English spoken varies wildly—winery staff usually manage, but older shopkeepers might not. The Duero riverside walks, while pleasant, won't satisfy serious hikers seeking dramatic mountain scenery.

Yet these limitations form part of Toro's authentic appeal. This isn't a prettified tourist village but a working wine town where locals still gather in Plaza Mayor's porticoed square for evening paseo. The butchers, bakers and wine shops serve residents first, visitors second. Come for the wine and Romanesque art, stay for that increasingly rare feeling of stumbling upon a Spanish town that hasn't rearranged itself for foreign consumption.

Leave room in your suitcase. The local wine cooperative sells directly to visitors at prices that make British wine merchants weep—excellent Crianzas for under €8 that would cost triple at home. Just remember Ryanair's baggage allowance before getting carried away.