Oleiros

The 09:15 bus from A Coruña drops you beside a roundabout planted with hydrangeas. From here it's an eight-minute walk to Santa Cristina beach, past estate agents advertising new-build flats with "vistas a la ría" and a pharmacy whose window displays Factor 50 alongside umbrellas. Welcome to Oleiros: not quite resort, not quite suburb, but a coastal municipality where Galicia's largest city keeps its second home.

The View from the Costa de Dexo

Pick any promontory and the geography tells the story. Across the ria, A Coruña's glass office blocks glint like a mirage. Behind you, eucalyptus plantations climb toward the provincial capital's commuter belt. The Atlantic occupies the middle distance, busy with container ships entering the port and kayakers hugging the rocky shore. This is coastline that works for a living.

The beaches reflect that dual personality. Santa Cristina delivers a broad crescent of pale sand, lifeguard tower and beach volleyball nets, yet the backdrop is apartment blocks rather than palm-fringed promenades. Walk fifteen minutes east to Mera and the buildings shrink to low houses, the sand darkens, and rock pools appear at low tide where children hunt for crabs using fragments of razor shell. Further still, Bastiagueiro offers a surfers' break that works best after autumn storms; locals arrive straight from work, wetsuits pulled on beside hatchbacks.

Between them runs the Paseo Marítimo, a coastal path that manages 12 kilometres without repeating itself. One section threads through pines above secluded coves where couples spread towels on flat rocks. Another crosses a golf course where fairways stop abruptly at cliff edge, warning signs in three languages. The surface switches from boardwalk to granite sett to compacted earth; trainers suffice, though the gradients reward those who packed proper walking shoes.

What the Weekenders Miss

Most British visitors arrive July to September, fight for parking at Santa Cristina, and leave convinced they've "done" Oleiros. They've missed the point. The place functions year-round, which means winter storms shut the chiringuitos while bakeries and hardware stores keep trading. Come in late May and you'll share the Paseo with nurses heading to A Coruña's hospital, parents pushing prams, retired fishermen carrying shopping bags. October brings sweater weather and empty beaches; the same cafés that charge €3.50 for a coffee in August drop prices and start serving hot chocolate thick enough to stand a churro in.

The parish system survives here. Each church—Santiago de Dexo, Santa Cruz, San Xiao—anchors its own neighbourhood, and fiestas still follow the medieval calendar. Santiago in Dexo means late July processions where brass bands march through housing estates built in the 1990s. Locals set up long tables on closed roads; you can buy grilled sardines and plastic cups of Ribeiro wine for coins. Nobody checks passports, but attempting Spanish earns smiles and larger portions.

Eating Between Tide Times

Seafood arrives by van from the lonxa in A Coruña each morning. The best kitchens are small, family-run, and display hand-written menus that change according to what looked good at auction. At O Xardín de Mera, sole arrives simply grilled, lifted off the bone tableside by waiters who've done this for decades. A half-ración of pulpo a feira costs €9 and comes sprinkled with rock salt that crunches between teeth. Skip the goose barnacles unless you enjoy prising alien digits from limestone; instead order zamburiñas—tiny scallops baked with breadcrumbs and ham—better value and zero rubber.

Lunch starts at 14:30, sharp. Arrive early and you'll wait outside with the smell of frying garlic as your appetite. Arrive late and choice disappears; by 16:00 chefs are mopping floors. Dinner follows the same pattern: 21:00 earliest, 22:00 normal. British stomachs should adjust accordingly; the supermarket in Santa Cruz sells excellent empanadas if you can't last.

Vegetarians survive rather than thrive. Tortilla de Betanzos arrives runny in the middle, more sauce than solid, perfect chip-dunking material. Beyond that expect grilled peppers, tomato salad, and bread rubbed with tomato, garlic and oil. Vegans should self-cater; the Saturday market in Santa Cruz stocks local peppers, tomatoes that taste of summer, and bread dense enough to hike on.

Getting Here, Getting Around

A Coruña airport sits fifteen minutes away by taxi (fixed fare €22; card machines often "broken"—carry cash). Ryanair flies daily from Stansted outside peak months; prices drop below £40 return if you avoid Spanish school holidays. Santiago's larger airport adds forty minutes by hire car but offers more UK routes.

Buses connect Oleiros to A Coruña every thirty minutes until 22:30. They're reliable, cheap (€1.65), and stop exactly where Google says—Galicia's transport app actually works. Between beaches, however, services thin to hourly and finish early. Hire cars make sense for families; roads are quiet outside rush hour and parking plentiful after September. Cyclists find a coastal bike lane that peters out at river mouths and reappears without warning; bring mountain tyres for the gravel sections.

When to Cut Your Losses

Oleiros doesn't do nightlife. A handful of beach bars stay open past midnight in July; August adds temporary clubs in Santa Cristina whose bass reaches the campsite. Come October the silence is complete. If you want tapas at 23:00, drive to A Coruña's María Pita square where locals eat until 01:00 and Uber operates legally.

Rain arrives horizontally here. The same south-westerly that cleans the bay can dump Atlantic moisture for three days straight. Accommodation includes few hotels but plenty of apartamentos turísticos—check whether heating is included; Spanish owners assume 14 °C indoors is "cosy". Pack a lightweight waterproof even in August; locals wear theirs like second skins.

The Honest Verdict

Oleiros suits travellers who want coastline within reach of city culture without the Costa package. You'll eat well, walk empty cliffs, and swim in water cleaner than most British beaches achieve in July. What you won't find is quaint fishing village charm: this is commuter belt Spain, where BMWs outnumber donkeys and the supermarket stocks quinoa. Embrace that hybrid and Oleiros delivers an easy introduction to Galician life. Expect chocolate-box Spain and you'll leave disappointed—then wonder why you bothered driving past A Coruña at all.