Santa Coloma de Farners

The Monday morning market spreads across Plaça Farners like a living map of rural Catalonia. Stalls weighed down with wild mushrooms share space with butchers carving botifarra sausages, while elderly women in housecoats haggle over the price of escalivada—smoky aubergine and peppers that locals swear taste better when bought with a bit of banter. This isn't tourist theatre; it's simply how Santa Coloma de Farners starts its week.

Set 142 metres above sea level in the Selva comarca, this market town of 13,000 sits equidistant between Girona's airport (20 minutes' drive) and the Costa Brava's crowded sands. That geography explains its split personality: part functional country centre, part low-key spa retreat where Brits on week-long breaks trade beach towels for walking boots and thermal baths.

The Waters That Built a Town

The Romans were first to tap the hot springs bubbling beneath Santa Coloma, but it was the 19th-century railway boom that turned the place into a proper spa destination. Today Balneari Termes-Orion still pumps 56°C water rich in calcium and magnesium into marble tubs. A two-hour thermal circuit costs €32—half what you'd pay in Bath—and includes a flotation pool where ceiling stars twinkle as you bob about. The spa shuts Monday-Tuesday from November to March, so plan accordingly.

Don't expect grand promenades or belle-époque hotels. The modern baths occupy a converted manor house on the edge of town, surrounded by pine woods that smell of resin after rain. Guests emerge pink-cheeked and ravenous, heading straight for Can Xango where the €14 menu del dia might start with escudella (hearty Catalan stew) followed by rabbit with prunes. Ask nicely and they'll swap the beans for chips—no judgement.

A Castle Without Turrets

The ruin locals call "el castell" is actually the remnant of a medieval watchtower perched on a wooded hill six kilometres north. It's less Disney, more Game of Thrones location scout's dream: rough stone walls, no gift shop, views stretching across the Selva basin to the Pyrenees on clear days. The forest track up has no shade whatsoever—start early or risk heatstroke. Bring water; the only café en route is a vending machine in a car park that hasn't worked since 2019.

Down in the old quarter, streets follow the same medieval grid but life revolves around more practical concerns. The 12th-century church of Santa Coloma mixes Romanesque foundations with baroque additions slapped on after an earthquake. Step inside to escape the midday heat and you'll find elderly men reciting rosaries while teenagers scroll Instagram in back pews—Catalan society in microcosm.

Modernista flourishes appear if you look up: wrought-iron balconies, sgraffito facades, a former textile factory now converted into flats with stained-glass roses in stairwells. None merit postcards, but together they explain why this was an industrial hub before Barcelona sucked away the jobs.

Forests That Feel Bigger Than They Are

Santa Coloma sits in a bowl of holm-oak and pine-covered hills that feel remarkably wild considering the beach is 25 minutes away. The local tourist office hands out free walking leaflets—rare in cost-cutting Spain—detailing loops from 45 minutes to six hours. The short Sorreres trail circuits a reservoir where cormorants dry wings on dead pines; longer routes climb into Les Guilleries, a landscape of rounded granite peaks the Moors never conquered.

Mountain bikers share the paths, though you'll see more Catalan grandmothers with walking poles than lycra-clad youths. Spring brings wild asparagus and murgules (morels) that locals guard like state secrets; autumn delivers chanterelles and chestnuts sold in brown paper bags at Saturday's market. Picking is permitted—just don't venture onto private land marked by stone walls topped with prickly pear.

Winter changes the mood entirely. At 700 metres in the hinterland, nights drop below freezing while days stay bright enough for coffee on south-facing terraces. Hotels slash prices by 40% and restaurants switch to calçot onion feasts eaten with romesco sauce that stains fingers orange for days. Access is straightforward—main roads stay open—but pack layers; mountain weather turns fast.

Eating Like You've Got a Catalan Grandma

Food here favours the stomach over Instagram. Breakfast at Café del Centre means pa amb tomàquet (bread rubbed with tomato) topped with botifarra negre blood sausage that tastes better than it sounds. They'll do bacon and eggs if you ask before 11 am, though the waitress might pretend not to understand.

Lunch is serious business. Vent d'Aram serves duck confit that falls off the bone alongside mongetes del ganxet—small white beans so prized they've got their own DOP. The €18 weekday menu includes wine and dessert; dinner prices jump 30% for the same plates. Vegetarians survive on escalivada and embotits (cured meats) are unavoidable—consider this fair warning.

Thursday's market specialises in cheese: tupí fermented in clay pots, mató fresh curd eaten with honey, and recuit similar to ricotta but tangier. Pastisseria Trias sells catànies—caramelised almonds coated in white chocolate and powdered sugar—that travel better than crema catalana ever could. Buy 250g for €6 and pretend you made them yourself back home.

Getting Here, Getting Around

No railway reaches Santa Coloma. The hourly Sarfa bus from Girona's coach station (platform 7) takes 35 minutes and costs €3.75 single—buy tickets on board. Drivers should exit the AP-7 at junction 8; follow C-25 towards Santa Coloma. Monday market chaos means police close centre streets 8 am-2 pm; park at the signposted aparcament near the sports centre and walk five minutes in.

Once here, everything sits within strolling distance. The tourist office hides inside the Ajuntament on Plaça de la Vila—open weekdays only, closed lunchtimes because Spain. They'll stamp walking leaflets with the date, useful if you twist an ankle and need to prove where you went.

The Honest Verdict

Santa Coloma de Farners won't change your life. It's a working town where spa visitors, mushroom hunters and market shoppers coexist without fuss. Come for two nights—three if you're using it as a cheaper base for Girona day trips—and you'll leave relaxed, well-fed and perhaps a kilo heavier. Don't expect nightlife beyond bars showing Barça matches; do expect change from a twenty for dinner and locals who'll switch to halting English when your Catalan fails.

The real magic happens in small moments: steam rising off thermal water at dusk, the first sip of ratafía that tastes like Christmas, or that instant on the castle hill when you realise the Mediterranean glints on the horizon. Santa Coloma doesn't shout about such things. It simply lets them happen, then sends you home wondering why British market towns can't manage the same trick.