Tordera

Sunday morning in Tordera starts with a whistle. Not from a kettle, but from the 10:30 Rodalies train as it pulls into the single-platform station. Within minutes, the narrow underpass disgorges a stream of wheelie trolleys, grandmothers in quilted housecoats and British couples clutching canvas shopping bags. They’re all heading for the same thing: one of coastal Catalonia’s largest open-air markets, held weekly in the otherwise quiet town square.

A Market That Swallows the Town

By eleven o’clock Plaça de l’Església is no longer a square; it’s a gridlock of tarpaulin stalls. Aisles shrink to shoulder width. Traders shout prices in Catalan, Spanish and, increasingly, English numbers: “Three euros, love, last bag.” You can buy almost anything—socks, drill bits, saffron, live herbs in yoghurt pots—yet the food section is what slows the traffic. Metal trays of xuixo (deep-fried custard buns) steam beside plastic cups of mussels escabeche. One counter sells nothing but half-dozen sizes of dried chilli; another offers jamón shavings so thin they dissolve before you reach the car.

Serious shoppers arrive before 09:00, when parking on Carrer Pompeu Fabra is still free and stallholders are setting up. By 13:30 the exodus begins: traders fold awnings, sweep crumbs into gutters and wheel unsold lettuces away in supermarket trolleys. By 14:00 the square belongs again to teenagers on scooters and the occasional dog walker. Tordera deflates until next Sunday, which is exactly why day-trippers like it: you witness the switch from commerce to siesta in real time.

River, Plain and Two Low Mountains

Stand at the top of Carrer Major and you can read the local geography like a map. Due east, the flats of the Tordera delta run straight to the sea—Blanes and its resort beaches lie only 10 km away, a ten-minute drive down the C-32. North-west, the Corredor ridge rises to 633 m, cloaked in holm oak and umbrella pine; south-west, the lower Montnegre tops out at 760 m. Both ranges form the protected Parc Natural del Montnegre i el Corredor, and both start where the town ends.

Altitude here is modest—34 m above sea level—so summer heat still arrives, but evenings carry a breeze the coast lacks. Winters are cooler and damper; fog can sit in the valley for days. The difference is enough that market gardeners on the plain supply early strawberries to Barcelona, while mushroom hunters head uphill after October rain. If you’re staying in a beach apartment, Tordera offers a half-day break from sand in your shoes and salt on your skin.

Trails Without Tour Buses

Most visitors who come for the market never realise the park exists; those who do rarely venture further than the Font de la Castanya picnic site, five minutes by car. Drive another ten minutes up the BV-5301 and you reach the Sant Martí chapel, trail-head for a 9 km loop that climbs gently through cork-oak to the Corredor pass. The path is wide enough for conversation, stony enough to warrant trainers rather than flip-flops, and empty enough that you meet more cyclists than hikers. From the pass a short spur leads to a stone shelter with a bench perfectly aligned to the Pyrenees—on clear winter days you can pick out the snowy outline of Canigó, 90 km away.

Maps are available from the tourist office (open weekday mornings inside the Ajuntament), but routes are way-marked and the mobile signal is decent, so casual walkers can improvise. Take water: cafés are plentiful in town, non-existent on the hill.

Food Without the Fanfare

Tordera’s restaurants assume you’ve driven in from the coast because you’re hungry, not because you want theatre. At Restaurante Danus, opposite the Guardia Civil barracks, the €14 menú del día arrives on proper china: grilled botifarra sausage with white beans, followed by crema catalana thick enough to support a spoon upright. An English menu exists, but the waiter will only produce it if you look truly desperate. Locals eat at 15:00; turn up at 13:30 and you’ll be first in line, last to leave.

Evening options are thinner. The castle-cum-dinner-show at Castell Medieval de Valltordera opens only for pre-booked medieval banquets or flamenco spectaculars. British reviewers on TripAdvisor call it “good fun if you like audience participation” and admit the food is secondary to the swordplay. A quieter choice is Bar Plaça, which stays open until 23:00 and will fry you a plate of chipirones at 22:45 without complaint.

Practicalities: Trains, Tarmac and Toilets

Getting here: From Barcelona Sants take the R1 Rodalies train towards Blanes/Maçanet. Tordera is the penultimate stop; journey time 70–80 min, fare €4.60 each way. Trains run hourly on Sundays, half-hourly on weekdays. From Girona airport it’s 35 km by car—allow 30 min on the A-7, exit 9.

Market day parking: Blue-zone bays cost €1.20/hr, maximum two hours. The free overflow car park by the river (signposted “Passeig del Riu”) fills by 10:00; arrive earlier or accept a ten-minute walk.

Cash: Most stalls accept cards, but the minimum spend is often €10. Bring coins for churros (€2) and the public toilets beside the church (€0.50).

When not to come: Mid-August Fiesta Mayor brings parades and human-tower displays, but also traffic jams and closed streets. Late January’s Sant Antoni involves bonfires and a barbecue in the square—atmospheric, yet evenings drop to 4 °C and guest rooms are scarce.

The Honest Verdict

Tordera will never win Spain’s prettiest-village contest. Franco-era apartment blocks edge right up to the medieval street plan, and the riverbanks still carry debris from the last flood. What it offers instead is function: a working market, a proper local menu, and immediate access to hills that feel wilder than they look on the map. Come for the Sunday bustle, stay for the afternoon hike, and you’ll leave with a full shopping bag and half a kilo of countryside mud on your shoes—both free of charge.