From Provence to the Costa Brava: An Immersive Journey Through Mountains, Culture and the Mediterranean Soul

Some trips are planned. Others call you.
This one called, softly at first, like a mistral breeze through olive groves and soon swept us across a borderless landscape of flavor, rhythm, and raw, living tradition.

Our base was a stone farmhouse near Cassis, where locals greeted us with sun-warmed tomatoes and a Provençal saying: “Ici, on mange le paysage” — here, we eat the landscape.

We visited the weekly market in La Ciotat, not as tourists, but led by Jacques, a retired chef who now offers private food tours. He introduced us to goat cheese wrapped in chestnut leaves, lavender honey, and a rosé from Bandol that tasted like liquid gold.

Local Tradition we tasted: Bouillabaisse, once a fisherman’s stew, now served in seaside cafés with a sense of theatre. The recipe is protected by law—but the best versions still come from grandmothers behind modest doors.

Crossing into Occitanie, we reached Perpignan, a place that belongs equally to France, Catalonia, and its own untamed past.

Here, we met Martí, a young guitarist reviving traditional cobla music and collaborating with local poets. He played for us in the Campo Santo, the Gothic cloister turned cultural haven, as the sun dipped behind the Palace of the Kings of Majorca.

We left the city behind, ascending into the Catalan Pyrenees, a world of stone shepherd huts, circling eagles, and alpine silence.

We stayed in a refugio near Vall de Núria, accessible only by rack railway or on foot. Our guide, Laia, a former biologist turned mountain historian, led us on a hike tracing ancient smuggling paths, sharing legends of the bruixes (witches) and rebels that once hid here.

At night, under a sky untouched by light pollution, she brewed us ratafia, a Catalan herbal liqueur made with walnuts, cinnamon, and mountain herbs—each sip a memory steeped in time.

The descent to Cadaqués was steep, winding, and entirely worth it. We arrived in the early evening, when the town blushes pink with reflected sun and the sea laps quietly at its stones.

We stayed at a restored fisherman’s home turned guesthouse, run by Isabel, a ceramicist whose family has lived in Cadaqués for five generations. She showed us how to shape clay with saltwater and bake it in a driftwood kiln.

On the morning we visited the Cova de l’Infern, a sea cave accessible only by kayak. Locals say it’s where Dalí came to dream. With a headlamp and a paddle, we entered in silence and left changed.

From the stillness of Cadaqués, we entered the unexpected energy of Empuriabrava, dubbed the “Venice of Spain,” but with a distinctly Mediterranean attitude.

Our experience here was curated by Marc, a former competitive skydiver turned wine importer, who arranged a private tasting of DO Empordà wines on the deck of a canal-side villa. As we sipped, parachutes opened above us like blooming flowers.

We join the locals for xiringuito evenings, pop-up beach bars with grilled sardines, live rumba catalana, and barefoot dancing that starts at sunset and ends with starlight swims.

Our final stop was Playa de Haro, near Sant Martí d’Empúries, a beach backed by dunes and anchored in mythology. Just steps away lie the ruins of Empúries, where Greeks and Romans once stepped onto Iberian soil.

We arrived with no plans. Just the urge to be still.

We spent our last afternoon with Clara, a marine biologist who leads guided snorkeling tours along the rocky coves. She showed us sea anemones, ancient amphora fragments, and the stories etched into the coastline.

That night, we toasted the journey with vermut casero and watched a fisherman cast his net as the sun disappeared behind the horizon.

What made this journey unforgettable wasn’t just the landscapes—but the people who shared them with us. The local heroes. The hidden voices. The storytellers.

We didn’t just cross borders—we crossed into deeper ways of seeing.

And somewhere between Marseille’s vineyards and Haro’s quiet shore, we remembered why we travel:
Not to escape life, but to let life find us in unexpected, beautiful places.