They say that if you want to return to Girona you should kiss the lioness’s backside. I’m not sure who “they” are (probably bored waiters at the café opposite), but the lioness is a little stone cat welded to a lamppost at the northern edge of the city. I have barely been here an hour, so it’s probably a little early to make any grand gestures of allegiance, but it’s a nice (and cheaper) variation on throwing coins in a fountain, so I climb the three little steps and plant my smacker on La Lleona.
The initial signs are good. There is a certain atmosphere here that lures you in straightaway. While the streets of Barcelona, 100km to the south, groan with tourists and increasingly crotchety locals, laid-back Girona ambles along to a different beat. You don’t really get crowds here. Well, you do in May, when thousands come to see the flower festival, but you don’t get the torrent of stag parties and cruise-ship lollygaggers that seems to flood the Catalan capital.
Much of the city’s magic lies in the narrow, cobbled streets that thread their way through the medieval Jewish quarter, known as El Call. I wander for hours, up winding stairwells, through courtyards and out into handsome squares dotted with bakeries selling delicious cream-filled xuixo pastries. I stare at Esteladas (Catalan separatist flags) fluttering from windows and take snapshots of antifascist graffiti.
Of course, man cannot live on pastries and politics alone, so I take a table at Cafe le Bistrot, a funky little spot on Pujada de Sant Domènec, at the foot of a grand old university building. I try rustic Catalan-style pizza smothered with salt cod and figs, and a salad with chickpeas and white botifarra sausage. It is wonderfully simple food with the kind of strong, earthy flavours that make you want to blow all your savings on a dilapidated farmhouse and fall in love with a peasant girl. I finish with a glass of ratafia, a gloopy digestif made from walnuts and herbs that is so bad it has me making plans to burn down the masia and tell Luisa that I’m already married. Still, for less than €20 it was a nice little midlife crisis.
Behind the university I climb on to a section of the restored city walls and walk for a while, looking out at the Pyrenees in the distance. Below, the River Onyar neatly divides the city — to the east, charming squares and elegant churches; to the west, high street shops, dreary office blocks and a film museum where you can see the dress that Dustin Hoffman wore in Tootsie. Not that the west bank cares what I think of it; the province of Girona is one of Spain’s wealthiest and there are apparently more shops per capita in this city than anywhere else in the country.
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A dozen or so bridges straddle the Onyar, the most famous being a rather ugly, cage-like structure known as Pont de les Pescateries Velles, which does nothing so much as obscure the view. It was designed by a certain Gustave Eiffel, who went on to be remembered for another ugly, cage-like structure.
One good thing about Eiffel’s iron eyesore is that it leads to Rocambolesc ice-cream parlour. The shop is owned by the Roca brothers, whose three Michelin-starred restaurant, El Celler de Can Roca, is in the northwest of the city. El Celler is always up there when the world’s best restaurant awards are being doled out and has a waiting list of several thousand years. Anyway, I have a cornet with sprinkles and it is very nice.
Just north of Rocambolesc, Pont de Sant Agusti affords much better views of the fat carp in the water below and the multicoloured buildings that line the Onyar’s banks. Just peeking out over the top of those pretty, pastel east-bank buildings is St Mary’s Cathedral, whose baroque façade looks out from the summit of 86 wide steps. It is a grand sight, one perhaps recognisable to fans of Game of Thrones, some of which was filmed here.
Not that Girona is short of fantastical stories of its own. Apart from the fact that it was once ruled by someone called Wilfred the Hairy, perhaps the tale that has best stood the test of time is that of the famous flies of Girona. Set on a Roman-built road that leads straight to France, the city has long been used to coming under attack from northern armies and is known as the City of a Thousand Sieges. When 13th-century French soldiers stormed into town and started behaving particularly badly, legend has it that flies swarmed out of the tomb of Sant Narcís, the city’s patron saint, and started biting the naughty soldiers and their horses, driving them from the city walls, never to return. You can even relive the magic, with a box of commemorative chocolate flies from Xoco Punt in Placa de Catalunya. Mmm!
Unlike those naughty soldiers, I am quite keen to come back — there are countless more corners of El Call in which to get lost and dozens more bakeries that demand attention. Furthermore, I haven’t had time to enjoy the rather special facilities on my hotel’s doorstep. The elegant Hotel Camiral is part of the enormous PGA Catalunya Resort, just south of Girona, which has two of the finest golf courses in the country. Alas, I’ve been too busy stuffing my face with walnut liqueur and chocolate flies to take full advantage. Just as well I kissed that moggy’s backside.
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The budget hotel
Hotel Ciutat de Girona
On the west bank, the Ciutat (00 34 972 48 30 38, hotelciutatdegirona.com) is in a great position for exploring the city. Functional rather than fancy, its rooms have wifi, coffee machines and air conditioning. There is a small indoor pool, as well as a spa. Doubles cost from €105.
The luxury hotel
Hotel Camiral
Girona’s only five-star hotel, Hotel Camiral (00 34 972 47 22 49, hotelcamiral.com) has a huge outdoor pool area, a first-rate restaurant serving modern European cuisine with a Catalan twist, and wonderful views of the Pyrenees. Its 145 rooms are modern and understated and there are suites stylish enough to have hosted the Spanish royal family. Doubles cost from €255.
Need to know
Mike Atkins was a guest of Hotel Camiral. Ryanair and Jet2 fly to Girona from various airports from £34 return (ryanair.com)
