Viveiro revisited: pulpo, beaches and a Joaquín Sabina tribute band
- Posted by Amy Bell
- On February 16, 2025
Dominic Begg, a BSS member living in Catalunya, celebrates a return visit to his beloved Galicia, still full of good memories and worthwhile new discoveries.
The saying “Mucha expectación, decepción” is often heard in bullfighting circles, with reference to big-name corridas that fail to live up to their billing; and we are generally warned against going back in the hopes of reviving a youthful relationship, whether it involves people or much-loved places, such as Evelyn Waugh’s “Brideshead”. Well, despite some misgivings, this is what my wife Maggie and I were about to do in summer 2024, namely to return to our beloved Rías Altas after a 12-year absence. Would we be risking decepción?
Every year from the mid-90s till the London Olympics, we’d travelled up from Catalonia to the extreme north of Galicia and spent a month with friends from Barcelona and Madrid on a beautiful bay backed by wooded hills, 5km east of Viveiro. Family circumstances, followed by the Covid pandemic, had kept us away, so we were about to find out how many of this remote area’s charms were still intact.
One of these charms was Viveiro’s Thursday morning market in the town’s sloping main square. This is how I described it in a 2013 article for La Revista: “It brings in country people from the surrounding villages to sell vegetables, dahlias, roses, small matt strawberries, honey, home-made cheeses, requesón and fresh milk, still warm from the cow. The rough, weathered faces, the plaintiveGalician intonations, the exchange of family news and gossip – it’s all to do with tradition and continuity, a world away from the artificial bonhomie of a farmers’ market in the UK.”
Fast-forward to a midsummer Thursday in 2024 and we find the square empty! We are directed to a stretch of paseo near the historic bridge where two food-trucks are parked, one selling hams, cheeses and olive oil; the other, fruit, vegetables and flowers. In addition, we see four or five solitary crones, each offering flowers, honey and fruit from their huerto. These old women are all that remains of the animated medieval scene that impressed us so much in the 1990s and beyond. And not a single unlabelled, home-made cheese! For me, this was a major disappointment. I felt that local cheese-making knowledge had not been passed on, or if it had, the younger countrywomen were keeping their cheeses for the family. Maggie, typically positive, liked the new venue, with its view of the ría and the fresh air (the square had always felt enclosed and huddled), while the comforting sight of those tall jars of deep black honey provided a certain continuity.
Another of the reasons we loved Viveiro were the free open-air concerts in the main square, every night from late July to mid-August. You might see a famous Spanish rock band one night, followed by four amateur choirs the next, and a Galician folk group, complete with bagpipes, the night after. Well, we’re all living in hard times now, so it was no surprise to find that the Festas Patronais were offering fewer gigs. Nevertheless, one of these stood out for quality: a Joaquín Sabina tribute band, led by Carlos García- Boente from Lugo. When I closed my eyes during his rendition of “Por el bulevar de los sueños rotos”, it could have been the great man himself up on the stage. And everyone (mostly aged 40-plus) knew the lyrics and sang along on the choruses. A great late night, just like the old days.
On the gastronomic front, central Viveiro had changed. I remember several restaurants and tapas bars that used to stretch uphill almost as far as the ancient little church. One in particular featured pulpo (octopus), boiled in huge copper tureens. Another, Normandie, served excellent fish and seafood. Now there’s nothing left above the upper level of the main square. All the action takes place in the square and the single pedestrianised street at its base. By 8pm there’s not a table to be had, inside or out, and in summer clients are now ordering just drinks rather than food. Maybe this is a money-saving ploy: eat something at home, then drink alfresco with your friends deep into the night. This may also suit bar-owners, who can serve crisps and olives, while reducing their chef’s working hours.
As for traditional Galician cuisine, you now have to leave the town centre and check out eateries on the fringes. We enjoyed white Ribeiro from the barrel and good tapas near the FÉVÉ rail station at La Taciña, a modest pulpería which we’d noticed, but never entered, over a period of 15 summers. And further afield we had a couple of outstanding repasts at an old-style family restaurant in the tranquil village of Muras, where you can choose between the special menu (€20) and the regular menu (€14), both excellent. Meanwhile, the best empanadas in Viveiro are still to be found at one of the three shops owned by the Vale family, though we favour the lighter pastry of their tuna pastelón.
In addition to Muras, we revisited Barqueiro, Parga, Lugo and the venerable Romanesque “cathedral” of San Martiño a few kms inland from Foz; all reassuringly unchanged. If we return in 2025, we’ll aim to get back to Mondoñedo, where we remember sitting at a café terrace and looking down to its splendid cathedral, rather than up, as in Compostela, Durham, Lincoln, Sacré Coeur, etc. When our daughter and the grandchildren joined us for a week, we headed to Vares, the windswept northern-most point in Spain, where we enjoyed local seafood (prawns, razor-clams, calamar, zamboriñas, mussels, percebes and hake) at the El Centro restaurant, formerly El Porto. More expensive than of old, but the same freshness and quality.
And finally, the real test of whether we were right to return to the Viveiro area in A Mariña county: the beach at Aréa. The good news is that the aerial photograph, taken in the early years of this century, still holds good.
It shows the eastern third of our wonderful beach, backed by dunes and lawns leading to the handful of houses, all owned by gallegos who don’t like change. The same veraneantes migrate here every summer, some from Madrid, some from Seville, others from Asturias and, after a long absence, los ingleses from Catalonia. In fact, we were extremely fortunate to find accommodation, but, as the only Brits to frequent this bay, it seems we were fondly remembered and an apartment was found for us. During our morning walks on the beach we reconnected with many familiar faces, and within days it was as if we’d never been away. And the best moment every day? Waking, opening the front door, taking in the vista of silent beach and bay, scanning the hills, dark with thousands of eucalyptus trees, and breathing in their strong aroma… It was good to be back.
Note on the author:
Dominic Begg is a retired English teacher of students at ESADE business school, and a former international rugby player. He lives in Sitges where he hosts a weekly music programme on the local radio station.
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