Cambados

The granite arches of Plaza de Fefiñáns frame a scene that hasn't changed much since the 16th century: nobility still live upstairs in the pazo, wine flows from bottles bearing the same family crest, and the only traffic is the occasional farmer leading his oxen through the square. Cambados doesn't do medieval reenactments – it simply never stopped being medieval.

This coastal town sits where the Ría de Arousa meets Galicia's wine country, creating a peculiar rhythm. Morning belongs to the sea: fishing boats return with percebes (goose barnacles) that fetch £80 a kilo in London restaurants. By noon, the action shifts inland to vineyards where albariño grapes hang from granite pergolas that double as garden features. The same families have worked both trades for centuries, and they'll explain over a glass of their wine how the Atlantic mist gives their grapes their distinctive salinity.

The Square That Time Forgot

Plaza de Fefiñáns operates on solar time. The stone mansions face south, their balconies designed for watching the sun set over the ría. At 11am, the square fills with market shoppers; by 2pm it's deserted as everyone disappears for lunch. The pattern repeats at 6pm for evening paseo, though in summer the nobility emerge later, once the heat subsides.

The Pazo de Fefiñáns dominates one side, still occupied by the same family since 1572. Tours run once daily at noon – miss it and you're stuck with exterior photos. The current countess often appears on the rooftop terrace, waving at visitors with the practiced grace of someone who's been doing this since childhood. Inside, the wine cellar remains active; they produce just 30,000 bottles annually, mostly snapped up by Spanish restaurants before outsiders get a look-in.

The square's proportions please the eye for good reason: built in the Renaissance, it follows golden ratio principles. Local architects claim you can stand anywhere and achieve perfect symmetry in photographs, though they've clearly never encountered British tourists with selfie sticks.

Where the Land Meets the Sea

Cambados stretches along the water like a string of pearls that someone dropped. The historic centre sits inland, connected to the fishing quarter of San Tomé by the Paseo de A Calzada, a promenade that locals treat as their outdoor living room. Grandmothers knit on benches while their husbands discuss football, both keeping half an eye on grandchildren who treat the stone balustrade as an improvised balance beam.

The causeway to San Tomé feels like walking into a different century. Tiny boats painted in primary colours bob in water so clear you can see starfish on the seabed. At the end stands the ruined Torre de San Sadurniño, a 12th-century fortress that defended against Viking raids. Today it defends against nothing more threatening than Instagram influencers, who arrive at sunset for photos that make the tower look twice its actual size.

The working port tells Cambados' real story. Bateas – rectangular mussel rafts – dot the ría like enormous floating gardens. Each one produces 150 tonnes of mussels annually, harvested by men in bright yellow wetsuits who make the dangerous jump between boat and raft look effortless. They've been doing this since Roman times, though health and safety has improved somewhat.

Wine That Tastes Like the Atlantic

Albariño isn't just a grape here; it's the local currency. Vines grow between houses, up walls, even in roundabouts. The annual Festa do Albariño (first weekend of August) turns the town into a wine festival that makes Bordeaux look restrained. The countess herself pours tastings in the square, while local fishermen compete to see who can open the most oyster shells in a minute.

But visit in May or September and you'll experience the wine without the chaos. Small bodegas offer tastings for €5-8, often conducted by the actual winemaker. Start at Bodegas del Palacio de Fefiñáns for context – they age their albariño in oak, creating a wine that tastes of green apples and sea spray. Then try the newer producers around the edges of town, where young winemakers experiment with amphorae and natural yeasts.

The Museo Etnográfico y del Vino provides necessary background, though it's more warehouse than museum. Don't miss the section on traditional grape-drying methods; those rafters you saw earlier double as drying racks after harvest. The museum shop sells wines you won't find elsewhere, including limited editions made from 100-year-old vines.

The Reality Behind the Romance

Cambados has edges that postcard photos miss. August brings cruise-ship crowds who block the narrow streets with oversized umbrellas and demands for English menus. Parking becomes a blood sport; locals recommend the free car park by the market, then walking ten minutes rather than circling for the perfect spot.

Sunday lunch requires military planning. Everything closes at 3pm sharp, and restaurants that claim to stay open often "run out of food" when British tourists appear. Book ahead or risk surviving on crisps from the one vending machine in town. Winter visitors face different challenges: many bodegas close for the season, and that beautiful Atlantic mist turns into proper rain that soaks through supposedly waterproof jackets.

The beach situation disappoints those expecting sand at their doorstep. The nearest decent stretch requires a 15-minute drive to Playa de la Lanzada, a magnificent seven-kilometre curve that faces the open Atlantic. Here the water temperature rarely exceeds 18°C even in August, though Spanish families seem not to notice as they spend entire days in the surf.

Making It Work

Cambados rewards the slow approach. Base yourself here for three days, using it as a hub to explore the Rías Baixas. Day trip to the Cíes Islands (book the ferry from Vigo in advance – they limit visitors to protect the ecosystem). Drive the coastal road to Combarro, where horreos (stone granaries) perch over the water like storks. But always return for evening paseo, when the setting sun turns the stone walls honey-coloured and the day's catch sizzles in restaurant kitchens.

Stay at the Parador if budget allows – it's actually the 16th-century Pazo de Bazán, where you can sleep in a four-poster bed and breakfast on the terrace overlooking the ría. Phone directly for the best rates; their website often shows sold-out when rooms sit empty. Alternatively, book one of the stone houses surrounding Plaza de Fefiñáns, where €80 gets you a apartment with original beams and a kitchen for those Sunday lunch emergencies.

The real secret? Arrive Thursday, leave Monday. Market day brings the town alive, Friday night buzzes with locals, Saturday offers wine tastings, and Sunday... well, Sunday you finally understand why the Spanish invented siesta.