The paradores of Andalucia, and how to pick the ones worth the detour

Eight hundred miles of white villages, three cities that would each carry a country on their own, and a coastline that goes from sublime to unspeakable in about forty minutes of driving.

A city of about half a million that hosts the largest arts festival on earth every August, which means it spends eleven months as one of the most liveable capitals in Europe and one month as something closer to a very beautiful riot.

Nine million people across six hundred square miles, which makes it less a city than about thirty of them pressed together, each with its own high street and its own opinion of the others.

A city with no coastline, no canals and no single building anyone crosses Europe to see, which has forced it to be good at the things you actually do on a trip: eating late, walking everywhere, and sleeping somewhere beautiful.

Mountains on one coast, calas on another, and a reputation built on four miles of it.

Two neighbourhoods of Art Deco and Porfirian mansions with the best cocktail bars on the continent between them, at two thousand metres.

The most visited city on earth, which means the difficulty is never finding something to do and always avoiding the version of Paris built for people who will only come once.