I arrived in Zaragoza, Spain, on a warm June morning. Aragón, Spain’s vast northeastern province bordered by the Pyrenees and France, would be our home for the next several days. Zaragoza — Spain’s fourth‑largest city— felt immediately welcoming.
The city didn’t have as many tourists as Barcelona and other Spanish hot spots, and the usual crush of street vendors and homelessness that marks places like Málaga was noticeably absent. With high‑speed AVE trains linking the city to both Madrid and Barcelona in less than two hours, Zaragoza feels both connected and comfortably its own.
Our first walk through the historic quarter set the tone. Roman stones, Moorish arches, Gothic towers and Baroque domes share the skyline like chapters of a long, complicated story. The Cathedral of Our Lady of the Pillar, rising above the Ebro River in Zaragoza, stands as one of Spain’s most revered pilgrimage sites and a masterpiece of Baroque devotion.
Dinner at Montal — good wine, good food and the easy camaraderie that forms among travelers gave me a chance to ask our host what she thought about bullfighting, to which everyone at the table pretty much gave a thumbs down. But our local guide Elena pushed back, saying that all of the traditions and history behind the sport keep her and her family interested, and still enjoy the sport. Here is where we first heard about the famous grape of the region, Garnacha, which would appear in white and red varieties all week long.
The next morning brought us to the Roman Theatre Museum, where the excavated remains of Caesaraugusta’s grand theater sit protected under a modern roof. Standing before the ruins, I imagined the crowds who once filled one of Roman Hispania’s largest theaters. The museum’s diagrams show how actors rose from a sub‑stage fossa, appearing suddenly onstage during dramatic works, ceremonies and spectacles. It’s a rare Roman site that still feels alive.
A chocolate tasting at Fantoba followed, where Zaragoza’s deep chocolate tradition revealed itself in a square of guirlache so smooth it seemed to melt before touching my tongue. Wandering the tight downtown streets — too narrow for cars, lined with small shops —was another pleasure. At the House of Bacalao, I stocked up on tins of Spain’s beloved salt cod for my friend Paul, who never met a Spanish fish product he didn’t love.
La Seo came next, a cathedral built atop Zaragoza’s old mosque. Its Mudéjar exterior shimmered with intricate brickwork, a reminder of Aragón’s layered cultural history. Inside, cool stone and filtered light offered relief from the June heat. At the Cathedral Basilica, the city’s second massive cathedral, we rode the lift to the tower for a sweeping view of the Ebro River, sadly, the water was too low for boats due to Spain’s severe 2026 drought.
Lunch at La Zarola introduced us again to Garnacha, Aragón’s signature grape. Wines from Campo de Borja, Cariñena, and Calatayud arrived with each dish, and soon “Garnacha!” became our group’s running exclamation. Later, at the Aljafería Palace — an 11th‑century marvel of arches, courtyards, and soaring ceilings — the Francisco Goya exhibition added another layer of Aragón’s artistic heritage.
The next day, we headed north into the countryside, stopping first at the Veruela Monastery. Founded in the 12th century, it once housed Cistercian monks before falling into neglect. Restoration revived it, and for a time it operated as a modest hotel. Today, artists and writers live and work within its thick stone walls, and visitors wander its quiet courtyards drawn to its enduring calm.
Wine returned to the itinerary in Cariñena, where we tasted more Garnacha and walked among the vines. Lunch at Restaurant Rodi was hearty and rooted in local flavors; my cabbage-and-pork dish, Caldo Gallego, was delicious and red with paprika. By the time we reached the Cariñena Wine Museum, I felt fully immersed in Aragón’s wine culture. At one of the wineries, a Latin inscription over one entrance read “Omni siccis dura” —everything is harder sober. A fitting motto for Garnacha country.
At the Mallos de Riglos, towering red rock formations rose like something from another planet. Lunch at Asador Fiscal, outside on their terrace with big steaks from their grill, restored us before we continued to Ordesa National Park. We joined Pyrenartica, an outfitter who brought us up in 4x4s to the viewpoints, a terrible, rough road up, up, and up. The Pyrenees unfolded in layers of green, gray and blue. At the crest, the mountains dropped away in a panoramic sweep four thousand feet down. A true “wow” moment.
In Aínsa, one of Spain’s most beautiful small villages, I walked medieval streets under soft lamplight just before sunrise. Two rivers meet here, crossed by two old bridges, and the whole town feels suspended between centuries.
Aragón is also a land of ghost villages — hundreds of abandoned farms and houses left empty since the 1950s. More than 130,000 abandoned homes, farms and other buildings sit scattered across the province. Driving through these quiet pockets of Aragón always makes me wonder what might happen if new residents arrived and breathed life back into these forgotten places.
The next day brought canyoning in Alquézar. Even at level one, splashing through cool mountain water and scrambling over rocks delivered a jolt of adrenaline. Lunch at Mesón del Vero with the famous view of the canyons tasted even better afterward. A guided tour of the beautiful village of Alquézar followed, including its collegiate church perched above the village. Dinner featured beautiful small plates at Cueva Reina, hosted by a friendly local couple who have run the place for a decade, and a restful night at Hotel Boutique Maribel.
Max Hartshorne is a local blogger, publisher and travel podcast host in South Deerfield. You can read and subscribe to his Substack at substack.com/@maxdeerfield. He is the host of the GoNOMAD Travel Podcast.
