The idea for this weekend began weeks earlier, during a visit to Ensérune in southern France. Standing on that exposed hilltop, I learned how places like Ensérune functioned not as isolated settlements, but as crossroads shaped by trade and contact. Cultures met there not through conquest, but through proximity and exchange.
It was there that I first understood how limited the Greek presence in Spain actually was. Rather than widespread settlement, Greek traders established only a small number of colonies along the northeastern Mediterranean coast from the eighth century BCE, primarily founded by people from Phocaea. These were trading posts rather than empires.
The most significant of them was Empúries, known in antiquity as Emporion, meaning market. As someone deeply interested in ancient Greek history, discovering that one of the most important Greek trading hubs in the western Mediterranean was in Catalunya felt like an unexpected gift. When I realised it was just a few hours from Barcelona, where we were living at the time, the trip felt inevitable.
The Greek City by the Sea
We arrived at Empúries for the opening at ten o’clock. We began in the Greek city, the part of the site closest to the shoreline. Greek traders from Phocaea first settled nearby in the sixth century BCE, initially on what is now Sant Martí d’Empúries, then on an island. Soon after, they founded a mainland settlement called Emporion, which went on to function as a major trading hub for centuries.
Walking through the ruins, the city feels open and outward-looking. We passed the thick southern defensive walls, the remains of the Asklepíeion dedicated to the god of medicine, and the agora, once the centre of civic life. The sea is always present, reinforcing the idea that this was a place shaped by movement and exchange rather than permanence.
Objects, Belief, and a Pause
After exploring the Greek city, we returned to the museum on site. Inside, pottery, inscriptions, and everyday objects help make sense of what remains outdoors. The highlight is a marble statue of Asclepius dating to the second century BCE, a reminder that belief travelled alongside goods.
Before continuing, we stopped at the bar on site for a beer. Sitting there, with ruins stretching behind us and the sea ahead, it felt like a natural pause between eras.
Order and Expansion Inland
From there, we walked inland to the Roman city, physically and symbolically further from the sea. Roman legions landed here in 218 BCE during the Second Punic War, seeking to cut off Hannibal’s supply lines. A military camp followed, then a town, and eventually the merging of Greek and Roman settlements into a single city known as Emporiae.
The Roman remains feel more structured and formal. We explored large houses such as Domus 1, once decorated with intricate mosaics, as well as the public baths. Outside the walls lie the remains of an oval amphitheatre dating to the first century BCE. By the late third century CE, the city was abandoned and gradually disappeared beneath the sand.
Layers of Landscape
From Empúries, we drove on for lunch at Mas Concas. Set among fields and low hills, it felt firmly rooted in its surroundings, neither overtly rustic nor self-consciously refined. Inside, the atmosphere was relaxed and unhurried. Tables were filled with groups clearly settling in rather than eating quickly, conversations stretching comfortably across courses. The cooking followed the same rhythm. Dishes were grounded and confident, built around local ingredients without excess or distraction. Nothing felt performative. Everything felt considered.
After the layered density of Empúries, lunch here acted as a reset. The history of the morning gave way to something more immediate. Eating slowly, drinking well, and sitting longer than planned felt like a continuation of the day rather than a pause from it. It was the kind of meal that anchored the afternoon, quietly setting the pace for everything that followed.
Easing into the afternoon, we continued to Aiguamolls de l’Empordà. We followed the main trail for around an hour, surrounded by water, reeds, and birdlife. The space felt horizontal rather than layered. After the density of ruins, the wetlands offered calm rather than explanation.
Curiosity then pulled us onward to Ciutadella de Roses. History seems to stop and start repeatedly at Roses. Founded as a Greek colony, later occupied by the Romans, and reshaped many times after, its location made it a strategic point in the Mediterranean and a frequent target.
Today, the Ciutadella brings together layers spanning centuries across a vast site. Within its walls are the remains of the Greek and Roman colony of Rhode, the Romanesque monastery of Santa Maria, traces of the medieval town of Roses, and later fortifications. In the sixteenth century, King Charles V ordered the construction of the Ciutadella and the nearby Castell de la Trinitat to defend the coast from pirates and Ottoman attacks. In 1814, French forces targeted the site during the Peninsular War. Restored in the twentieth century, it reopened as both an archaeological site and a cultural centre.
L’Escala and the Taste of the Sea
That evening, we drove to L’Escala, arriving as the town began to settle into itself. L’Escala is inseparable from anchovies. For centuries, its identity has been shaped by the fishing and curing of anxoves, preserved in salt and oil as a means of survival and trade.
Anchovies here were never about refinement. They were practical, sustaining, and communal. Over time, the local method of salting and filleting by hand became a defining tradition. Today, L’Escala anchovies are considered among the finest in Catalunya, but the process remains rooted in patience and continuity.
Walking through the town, the history is quietly present. It appears on menus, in shop windows, and at the table. At Bodega Enoteca Els Barrils, the space was full and unmistakably local. We felt lucky to find a table at all. We ordered boquerones, anchovies, cheese, and good wine, and stayed longer than planned, ending the day with food that belonged exactly where it was eaten.
What Came Before, What Remains
The next morning, on 30 September 2025, we had breakfast at Bar Restaurant L’Empordanet. This was our introduction to esmorzar de forquilla, the traditional Catalan fork breakfast. Hearty, filling, and designed to sustain rather than impress, it is more common in the countryside than in cities. Having it here felt especially fitting.
From there, we drove inland to the Iberian town of Ullastret. Inspired again by Ensérune and its references to Iberian culture, I wanted to understand more about the people who inhabited this landscape before the Greek and Roman arrival.
Ullastret was the largest Iberian settlement in Catalunya, occupied between the sixth and second centuries BCE. Set across two low hills, it once overlooked a coastal lagoon that has long since disappeared. Walking through the site feels markedly different from Empúries. Defensive walls and towers dominate. Streets turn inward. This was a society structured around territory, hierarchy, and protection. Visiting Ullastret over the weekend in the local world that existed before and alongside Mediterranean traders, reminding us that the Empordà was never an empty landscape.
Hands at Work, Coast on Foot
From Ullastret, we drove to La Bisbal d’Empordà, a town defined by ceramics. The main street is lined with pottery shops and workshops, shelves stacked with bowls, plates, jugs, and tiles in deep greens, blues, ochres, and whites. Some pieces are decorative, others unmistakably functional. We walked slowly, stopped often, and eventually bought a few bowls to take home. Objects meant to be used felt like the right souvenirs.
Lunch was at Restaurant L’Escut, set beneath a row of arches. We sat outside and started with white prawn tartare from Palamós, served with seaweed bread toasts. Then came their take on a revuleta. Lobster layered with eggs over fried potatoes arrived like a small performance. Rich, indulgent, and deeply satisfying. Dessert was seasonal strawberries with cream, simple and exact.
From there, we drove to Palamós and began walking the Camí de Ronda. The path followed the coast easily, alternating between rock and open sea. We kept walking until we reached the Poblat ibèric de Castell, where ancient remains overlook the water once more.
Heading Home
From Castell, we drove back to Barcelona. The weekend ended quietly, without ceremony, but felt complete. It had been shaped by routes rather than destinations, by meals as much as monuments, and by the steady realisation that the Empordà holds its history lightly, revealing it only if you are willing to move slowly enough to notice.
What appeals most to you about the Empordà: the ruins, the food, or the time between them?
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