Cehegín

The guide at Begastri apologises for his English, then delivers a forty-minute tour that would put most British museum curators to shame. Standing 570 metres above sea level on a bronze-age settlement turned Roman city turned Visigoth capital, you're looking down on layers of history that even the Spanish have only just started promoting. This is Cehegín: a town where the past isn't cordoned off behind velvet ropes but sits casually among the almond groves, waiting for someone to notice.

A Town That Forgot to Modernise

Cehegín's medieval core climbs the Sierra de Mojantes like a disorderly stack of white cubes. Declared a Conjunto Histórico-Artístico in 1982, the old quarter retains the chaotic charm of a place that grew organically rather than according to any town planner's vision. Narrow lanes twist between 17th-century palaces and houses whose wooden doors still bear the grooves of centuries. The effect is less "chocolate-box Spain" and more "archaeological accident waiting to happen" – in the best possible way.

The altitude makes a difference. Even in August, when the Costa Cálida swelters below, Cehegín's evenings cool to a civilised 22 degrees. Winter mornings can touch freezing though, and the town's position on a ridge means wind that would make a Yorkshireman blink. Pack layers regardless of season; the microclimate here has a sense of humour.

What Lies Beneath

Begastri steals the show. The site opens only at weekends, with tours departing at 10:10, 11:15 and 12:30 sharp. Two euros cash (cards point-blank refused) buys you access to a city that predated Rome and outlasted it. The guide points out Roman sewer channels still carrying rainwater, Visigoth baptismal fonts repurposed as flowerpots, and a basilica where bishops argued theology while Britain was still fumbling with the Dark Ages.

The Archaeological Museum back in town makes sense of the fragments. Displays run from Palaeolithic arrowheads to medieval ceramics, with particularly fine Visigoth crosses that wouldn't look out of place in a Sutton Hoo exhibition. Best part? You'll likely share the galleries with locals rather than coach parties.

Walking the Labyrinth

The old town rewards aimless wandering. Start at Plaza del Castillo, where the tourist office loans English audio-guides (passport required as deposit) and the 16th-century palace of the Fajardo family now houses municipal offices. From here, lanes fan uphill past Renaissance doorways and iron balconies bright with geraniums. The Church of Santa María Magdalena dominates the skyline – rebuilt after earthquake damage in the 18th century, its tower visible for miles across the Argos valley.

Practical note: the cobblestones mean business. Trainers essential; flip-flops suicidal. Push-chairs impossible beyond the main square. The climb from new town to old takes fifteen thigh-testing minutes; budget more if you're carrying shopping.

Food Without the Fanfare

Cehegín hasn't succumbed to gastro-tourism yet. Local restaurants serve proper Spanish working lunches rather than dainty tourist portions. At Restaurante El Sol, the grilled entrecôte arrives with chips that actually taste of potato – praised by British visitors for being "proper chips, not those frozen things." House red costs €2.50 a glass and slips down without the vinegar bite common in cheaper Spanish wines.

Market days (Tuesday and Sunday) transform the modern town centre. Stalls sell peaches sweet enough to convert fruit-sceptic children, alongside strings of morcón sausage thicker than a rugby player's forearm. The migas pastoriles – fried breadcrumbs with bacon bits – tastes like Christmas stuffing and makes excellent walking fuel.

Timing matters. Kitchens close 4pm-8.30pm sharp. Arrive at 3.45pm and you'll eat. Arrive at 4.05pm and you'll wait, hungry, while staff enjoy their own dinner.

When the Hills Call

Several marked trails radiate from the town. The Begastri circuit combines archaeology with exercise – allow two hours including the guided tour. Paths weave through almond and olive terraces, past dry-stone walls built by Moors and maintained ever since. Spring brings wild orchids and the scent of rosemary; autumn means mushroom hunting and the harvest festival.

Serious hikers can tackle the full Sierra de Mojantes ridge. The complete route demands fitness and a head for heights, but rewards with views across three provinces. Take water – fountains are scarce once you leave cultivated land.

The Reality Check

Cehegín isn't perfect. The new town's 1970s apartment blocks won't win architectural prizes. Saturday night karaoke drifts up to the old quarter until 3am during fiestas. Most younger locals speak English only in theory; a phrasebook remains useful.

Access requires wheels. The town sits 25 minutes' drive from the A-7 motorway – no train line, limited bus service. Car hire from Murcia-San Javier airport takes forty-five minutes on good roads, but the final approach involves narrow mountain bends that test British spatial awareness.

Yet these minor inconveniences keep the crowds away. While neighbouring towns drown in tour groups, Cehegín remains a place where you can examine 1,500-year-old mosaics without jostling for space, where bar owners remember your order from yesterday, where the past feels present rather than packaged.

Come for the archaeology, stay for the authenticity. Just don't expect gift shops – the best souvenirs here are the stories you'll bore people with back home.