Villaconejos

The first thing you notice is the altitude: 629 m on the flat Castilian meseta yet still 200 m higher than central London. Air thins, horizons stretch, and the late-summer thermometer that hits 38 °C in Madrid often stops three degrees lower here. Villaconejos sits on a subtle ridge above the Tajo valley, close enough to the capital for a 45-minute dash down the A-3, far enough that traffic noise is replaced by the clank of irrigation pumps and the occasional tractor reversing down Calle Real.

A Town That Smells of Melon in July

Come harvest time, the aroma is unmistakable. Stack after stack of piel de sapo – “toad-skin” melons – line the warehouse forecourts on the eastern approach road. The cooperative ships 30 million kg a year, most of it to British supermarkets that re-label the fruit as “Spanish Galia”. Between mid-June and early September flat-bed lorries thunder through at 7 a.m., so visitors who want a quiet coffee on the plaza terrace should choose the later, slower hours. Out of season the same roads empty, the scent fades, and you remember why only 3,500 people live here year-round.

The centre is a rectangle of mud-brick houses painted the colour of sand and rust. Nothing is whitewashed; this is not Andalucía. Instead you get ochre walls softened by wooden balconies, the odd 1950s ceramic tile, and brass door-knockers shaped like grapes. It takes twenty minutes to walk the perimeter lanes, passing the 16th-century church tower of San Nicolás de Bari whose stone turns honey-gold at sunrise. Inside, the nave is cool, dim and fragrant with beeswax; a single volunteer sells postcards for 50 c and will happily unlock the sacristy if you greet her first with a polite “Buenos días”.

Fields Instead of Gift Shops

There are no souvenir boutiques. Commerce is practical: a butcher, two bakeries, a pharmacy with a defibrillator mounted outside, and a tiny hardware store that stocks every size of jam jar known to rural Spain. The nearest cash machine is inside the Caixa branch on Plaza de España; it still issues €50 notes so small businesses appreciate exact change. On Saturday mornings a white van parks by the town hall and sells knives, scissors and garden shears to a queue of farm workers who know precisely what blade angle they need for grafting vines.

This is a place to borrow a bike from the municipal pool office (passport required, no fee) and follow the signed 12 km loop south-east to the Tajo. The track is dead-flat gravel, fine for hybrids, and passes through alternating plots of garlic, cereals and vines trained low to dodge the wind. Mid-way you cross the derelict railway that once linked Madrid with Cuenca; sleepers are gone but the embankment makes a handy picnic perch with views back to the village water tower.

Wine Route Without the Crowds

Villaconejos is technically on the Ruta del Vino de Madrid, yet only two bodegas open regularly to visitors. Bodega Muñoz Martin operates out of a converted brick farmhouse 2 km west of the centre; tastings cost €10 and include four wines plus local cheese. Tours start at 11 a.m. on Fridays and must be booked by e-mail at least 24 hours ahead (English spoken, but replies arrive faster in Spanish). Their clarete – a pale rosé fermented in steel – drinks like a chilled Beaujolais and pairs surprisingly well with the village’s salty, air-cured lamb cecina.

The second producer, Andrés Morate, opens one weekend a month for walk-ins. If the gate on Calle Cementerio is ajar, follow the signs to the tin-roofed shed where vintages dating back to 1999 rest in American oak. Bottles start at €6; bring cash because the card machine relies on a mobile signal that vanishes in bad weather.

When to Come, When to Skip

April and late-October offer 22 °C afternoons, wheat-green fields and night-time lows around 8 °C – perfect for walking without carrying litres of water. In July and August the plains shimmer; plan any outdoor activity before 11 a.m. or after 6 p.m. and carry more water than you think sensible. January brings sharp frosts and an uncanny silence: many bars close for the month while owners visit extended family in Ecuador and Romania. If you do arrive mid-winter, wrap up for the evening paseo; villagers stroll the main drag at 7 p.m. sharp and the ritual is worth joining, but the wind can slice straight through a fleece.

Eating: Order the Migas

British visitors tend to expect paella; inland Madrid does rice badly. Ask instead for migas de pastor – fried breadcrumbs with pancetta and grapes – or for cordero lechal, milk-fed lamb roasted in a wood-fired clay oven until the skin crackles like pork. Mesón El Labrador on Calle del Medio serves both dishes for under €20 a head; house red is drinkable and the menu is written only in Castilian, so download an offline dictionary. Vegetarians should try the judiones, giant white beans stewed with saffron and bay; the flavour is gentle, closer to cassoulet than to chilli.

Dessert is a no-brainer in summer: chilled melon wedges arrive automatically, sometimes without being ordered. The local variety averages 11 °Brix sugar, so a squeeze of lemon balances things nicely. Out of season look for bartolillos – small custard-filled pastries dusted with cinnamon – best eaten within ten minutes while the crema is still warm.

Getting There, Staying Elsewhere

Public transport exists but feels designed to deter. There are two buses from Madrid’s Méndez Álvaro terminal on weekdays, none on Sunday, and the 45 km journey somehow takes 75 minutes. Driving remains the sensible option: hire a car at Barajas, take the A-3 towards Valencia, exit 26, then follow the M-404 through olive groves. Petrol stations on the motorway close overnight; fill up at the Repsol in Chinchón if you’re returning late.

Accommodation within Villaconejos is limited to one guesthouse above the veterinary clinic – clean, cheap and fully booked during melon harvest by French lorry drivers. Most visitors base themselves in nearby Chinchón (10 min drive) where the 32-room Casa del Pósito has British plug adapters at reception and serves proper filter coffee at breakfast. From there you can combine a morning in Villaconejos with an afternoon in Chinchón’s famous Plaza Mayor, glass of anise in hand, before heading back to Madrid in time for dinner.

Part of a Wider Patchwork

Treat Villaconejos as one tile in a bigger mosaic rather than a stand-alone highlight. Pair it with Aranjuez royal palace to the south, or with the windmill circuit around Campo de Criptana if you’re heading onwards to Toledo. The village rewards curiosity, not check-box tourism: talk to the melon packers, accept a slice offered from a cool-box, and you’ll leave with sticky fingers and a better grasp of where exactly those perfect green orbs on British fruit counters begin their journey.