Deep Mediterranean Spain

Hola!

Marina’s father has been to every province in Spain except Almería. I was quite surprised when Marina told me this.

Until, wandering along the practically empty beachfront of Vera at the end of May, we asked a couple of middle-aged ladies where we could get a morning coffee at eleven AM.

Oh dear, one of them replied. Imposible. Not much chance of that here at this time of year. This is Almería, it isn’t like the rest of Andalusia…

Why not? we asked.

Well, she said, there’s no high-rise flat blocks, not many bars or services, there’s nothing open at this time of year.

Hay que tomarlo en casa antes de salir si vienes en mayo. You’ve got to have your coffee at home if you come in May, said her friend.

To be honest, Vera was deliciously empty. Kilometres and kilometres of grey sandy beach and sparkling turquoise sea just for us.

We were here because of a song, “Mediterráneo” by Joan Manuel Serrat, a 70’s Classic we’d been listening to for a Spanish course we’d been producing.

All its lyrics, from the iconic opening line “Quizás porque mi niñez sigue jugando en tu playa…” - “Perhaps because my childhood is still playing on your beach...” filled us with longing for the Mediterranean, and it wasn’t long before we ended up in Vera.

As soon as we arrived, we knew we’d take this Andalusia over the Costas any day.

And while a few places were closed, the women weren’t completely right.

A few minutes later, we found a fantastic coffee at a breakfast place right on the beach, where the laconic, incredibly relaxed barman confirmed that yes, this was “forgotten Andalusia”.

He said that the high season here only lasts a month and a half in the summer, when it fills with Spanish people, and the rest of the year there was barely anyone here — except the odd Northern European who winters here and disappears as soon as it gets hot.

This suited us fine. We had the beach completely to ourselves, and the best chiringuito beach restaurant of the whole place was actually open.

We had two amazing meals there. the first day, un arroz a banda - essentially a rice dish similar to paella but with less shells…

…and the next day espetos: sardines on skewers grilled over a fire, all served just metres from the sparkling sea.

Vera is a quiet oasis of calm. The kilometres of beach are bookended by vast, dry mountain massifs that seem to protect it from the outside world. A good percentage of the beach-goers swim or wander up and down the beach with nothing on, but that seems to fit the other-worldly, far-from-it-all feel of the place perfectly.

After nearly 30 years travelling all over Spain (and many trips to Almería), Ben had never even heard of it, and Marina had never been. Yet, even now, in empty-late-spring, we bumped into two old school friends of Marina’s who’d been coming here for 25 years.

Vera hides itself well. Thank goodness.

Below, in this week’s bonus guide for our paid subscribers, we’re sharing where we ate, the classic chiringuito food we ordered and Marina wants you to know about. Plus Spanish classics on her Med. music playlist, Ben and Marina’s all-time favourite Deep Spain beach restaurant 200km down the coast, and a video of Marina discussing it all.