Amer

The Square That Feels Too Big

There is a moment in Amer when you stop in the middle of the main square and think: this is far too much square for such a small village. That moment arrives quickly if you come here, because sooner or later you end up in the Plaça de la Vila. It dominates everything.

The square is porticoed and often described as one of the largest of its kind in Catalonia. Some say it is the second largest, though those rankings tend to shift depending on who is doing the counting. What is beyond doubt is its scale. When there are only a handful of people crossing it, the sense of space becomes even more pronounced.

Walking beneath the arches gives the impression that Amer was built the wrong way round. It feels as though the square came first and the houses were added afterwards, fitted neatly along its edges. The cobblestones, according to local accounts, come from different municipalities in the comarca of La Selva. In a way, crossing the square is like tracing a small map of the surrounding area with your feet.

Life still unfolds under the arches. At one doorway, a woman sells coques de llardons, a traditional Catalan pastry made with pork crackling. She does it, as she explains, not as a business but to keep the custom alive. It is the sort of detail that says more about a place than any statistic.

From the Carrilet to the Old Station

Many people arrive in Amer by bicycle, or at least give that impression. The Carrilet greenway runs straight through the village, linking Girona with Olot. Its gentle gradient makes it manageable even for those without heroic stamina. Amer sits roughly halfway along the route, which explains why so many cyclists pause here to stretch their legs before continuing.

The former railway station still stands, a reminder of when the Carrilet was an actual train line rather than a cycle path. The building has the familiar look of railway architecture, though its role has changed. Today it forms part of the landscape rather than the transport network.

The greenway feels almost like Amer’s own private cycle lane. It threads through the village without fuss, weaving daily life together with the steady flow of travellers passing by.

The Monastery Above the Village

Above the rooftops rises the monastery of Santa María, set slightly higher than the centre as monasteries often are. Its origins are usually placed in the Carolingian period, around the 9th century, although the building visible today reflects many later additions and alterations.

Inside the church there is the distinct scent of damp stone, the kind found only in places that have opened and closed their doors for centuries. The silence is noticeable. It does not feel curated or theatrical. It is simply the quiet of a space that has witnessed generations come and go.

One wall bears a reference to the Compromiso Remensa of the 15th century, linked to conflicts between peasants and feudal lords in Catalonia. It is not the sort of historical detail most visitors expect to encounter during a relaxed stroll, yet Amer appears more than once in that chapter of history.

From this elevated point the village looks different. Amer has around 2,400 inhabitants, but from above it resembles a tidy model laid out on a table. The large square that felt almost excessive at ground level now seems proportionate within the wider valley.

Traditions with a Twist

Amer may appear quiet, but at certain times of year it shifts pace. In August the village celebrates the Sardana del Batlle, a version of the traditional Catalan sardana with an unusual feature: it is danced in a spiral.

For anyone unfamiliar with the sardana, it is typically performed in a circle, with participants holding hands and stepping in measured rhythm. Here, instead of remaining in a ring, the dance coils inward like a human snail shell. The mayor leads, and the rest follow as the circle gradually tightens. It can look improvised to first-time observers, yet this is the established form, maintained over many years.

A few weeks later comes a celebration dedicated to the aubergine. For one day the village revolves around that single ingredient. Home-cooked dishes appear in multiple variations, competitions are held and people sample different interpretations of the same vegetable. Someone always presents a recipe that supposedly contains aubergine even if no one can quite detect it. The tone is light-hearted, though the attachment to tradition is clear.

Rock, Air and Open Space

The natural surroundings also shape Amer’s character. Near Santa Brígida there are rock faces used for climbing. When conditions allow, paragliders can be seen taking off, gliding over the landscape before disappearing from view. On some days there are few others around, just the climber and the rock, or a single canopy drifting across the sky.

Back on the Carrilet greenway, cyclists continue to arrive and depart in a steady rhythm. Amer functions as a pause point, a place to step off the saddle, look around and then move on.

The Character of Amer

Amer’s identity is not defined by one monument or one event. The Plaça de la Vila sets the tone with its outsized proportions. The monastery of Santa María anchors the past in stone. Traditions such as the Sardana del Batlle and the aubergine festival add their own distinctive note.

Carles Puigdemont was born here, a fact widely known in Catalonia. In everyday conversation, however, it does not dominate. Local remarks suggest a community accustomed to doing things its own way. Historically, Amer depended on Bonmatí before separating, a detail that still surfaces in casual chat.

Perhaps that independent streak helps explain the village’s contrasts: a vast square in a place of modest size, a spiral dance that defies expectation, a festival devoted entirely to a vegetable. Amer does not attempt to overwhelm. It simply presents what it is.

Arrive by bicycle if possible, or at least with time to walk slowly. Cross the square without rushing. Climb towards the monastery and pause to look out over the valley. The scale, which at first seems excessive, begins to make sense once seen from above.