Tossa de Mar

The morning fishing boats return to Tossa de Mar at half past eight, engines cutting through the quiet harbour as restaurant owners queue for sea bass and red mullet. It's a daily ritual that hasn't changed much since Marc Chagall dubbed this place "Blue Paradise" in the 1930s—except now the catch is sorted beside a €18-a-day underground car park rather than on the sand.

Tossa sits 90 minutes northeast of Barcelona, where the Pyrenees dip their toes into the Mediterranean. Unlike its brasher neighbour Lloret, this medieval walled town retains a working heart beneath the tourist veneer. The population swells from 5,000 locals to 30,000 sun-seekers in August, yet someone still mends nets by the slipway and grandmothers still gossip in Catalan outside the bakery at 7 a.m.

The Castle that Charges No Admission

The Vila Vella crowns a rocky headland, its 14th-century walls rising straight from golden sand. This is Catalonia's only remaining fortified coastal settlement, and remarkably, there's no ticket booth—just steep cobbled lanes that demand proper footwear. Climb past bougainvillea-draped cottages to the lighthouse for views that stretch from the Pyrenees to the high-rises of Lloret. The Gothic church ruins at the summit provide shade and a history lesson: pirates once forced residents to build these very walls using stone from their own houses.

Inside the walls, the Museum occupies the former governor's mansion. Its collection mixes Roman mosaics from the ancient settlement of Turissa with paintings by artists who fled here during Franco's dictatorship. Entry costs €4, but the real gallery is the walk itself—each turn reveals another frame of cobalt sea against honey-coloured stone.

The descent leads to Platja d'es Codolar, a pocket-sized cove tucked beneath the battlements. Fishermen still store boats in natural rock shelters here, though you're more likely to share the sand with snorkellers than sardine nets. The water clarity is exceptional—bring a mask to spot sea bream weaving between posidonia grasses.

Coastal Paths and Crowded Sands

Tossa's main beach, Platja Gran, arcs for 400 metres beneath the old town. It's coarse golden sand, gently shelving and patrolled by lifeguards through summer. The downside? Space. By 11 a.m. in July, towel territory resembles a Boden catalogue photoshoot, with umbrellas renting for €12 plus €5 for a lounger. Savvy visitors bring Decathlon pop-ups and claim spots before 9.

Escape route: the Camí de Ronda. This ancient coastal path once helped customs officers spot smugglers; today it delivers walkers to empty coves where the only sound is pine needles dropping on stone. The northern stretch towards Cala Pola offers the best effort-to-reward ratio—45 minutes of moderate climbing through umbrella pines rewards you with a pebble beach where snorkelling reveals purple sea urchins and occasional octopus. Take water; there's nothing but nature once you leave town.

Southwards, the path to Lloret is more demanding—three hours of ups and downs, but the views justify the sweat. You'll pass Cala Bona, where a 1960s beach bar serves cold Estrella to hikers who've earned it. The trail is waymarked but rocky; trainers essential, and avoid midday heat.

From Sea to Stew: What to Eat

Tossa's cuisine reflects its geography: fish landed at dawn, vegetables from the Vallalta plain, plus game from the Gavarres hills. The signature dish is cim-i-tomba, a fisherman stew named after the dance performed while stirring. It's essentially Catalan bouillabaisse—tomato, saffron and whatever the boat brought in. El Xiringuito on the promenade does a reliable version for €18; they'll debone the fish tableside if you ask.

For something less challenging, try mar i muntanya—literally "sea and mountain." Think chicken and prawns sharing a plate, a combination that sounds dubious but tastes like surf-and-turf done properly. Can Pini, tucked down a Vila Vella alley, serves it with proper chips—not those frozen things that plague tourist Spain.

Vegetarians aren't forgotten. Can Sophia does excellent goat's cheese salad and a duck confit that converts even fussy teenagers. Their €22 menu del día includes wine and pudding; book ahead for terrace tables overlooking the battlements.

Breakfast culture remains resolutely local. At Pa i Xocolata, old men dunk croissants in thick hot chocolate while discussing football. A cortado costs €1.50, half Barcelona prices, and they'll toast your baguette properly—not that lukewarm nonsense served elsewhere.

When to Visit, Where to Stay

April and early May deliver wildflowers along the coastal path, 20-degree days and hotel rooms at shoulder-season rates. September's equally civilised—the sea's warmest then, and restaurant terraces empty of screaming toddlers. August is brutal: 30-degree heat, traffic queues from the AP-7, and beaches where finding a patch of sand requires military strategy.

Accommodation splits three ways: package hotels along the beachfront, boutique conversions within the Vila Vella, and family pensions in the grid of streets behind. The latter offer best value—€80 buys a double with balcony and owner who'll recommend which bar still serves proper paella. Avoid anywhere advertising "English breakfast included"; you're in Catalonia, eat like it.

Getting here is straightforward. Sarfa coaches run hourly from Barcelona's Estació del Nord and the airport—book online before flying, especially July weekends. Driving means navigating the C-32 coastal road, spectacular but slow. Arrive after 11 a.m. and the castle car park is full; the underground facility costs €18 daily but beats circling for street meters that limit stays to two hours.

The Honest Verdict

Tossa de Mar isn't undiscovered. The souvenir shops selling "I survived the Vila Vella steps" T-shirts prove otherwise. Yet between the tour groups and beach bars, authentic moments persist: fishermen mending nets at dawn, elderly couples dancing sardanas in the square on Sunday evenings, the way cathedral bells mingle with yacht masts clinking in the breeze.

Come for the medieval walls and stay for the coastal walks. Just don't expect deserted coves in August, and for goodness sake, wear proper shoes on those cobbles. Tossa rewards visitors who look beyond the obvious—peer into doorways, follow your nose down alleyways, accept that the best table might be inside not on the postcard-perfect terrace. Do this and Chagall's Blue Paradise still delivers, even with 21st-century realities included.