I must be honest: for me, there have always coexisted two different faces of Jerez de la Frontera. On one side, there is the scent of night-blooming jasmine wafting from my aunt Angustias’s neighbor’s courtyard; the childhood games on the rooftop with my cousins. The comings and goings to the corner candy shop and all those Holy Weeks chasing penitents through the streets of the San Miguel district. The objective? To see who could make the largest wax ball of them all.
On the other hand, there is that version of the city that my father, a true Jerezano, had told me about so many times. With this I encountered as an adult, when he showed me—or rather, confirmed—that the goodness of this land with its southern essence is truly appreciated when you learn to embrace it consciously, with intensity. As the great Lola Flores, a universal Jerezan, once said: “Jerez es de otro planeta”. And indeed it is. Or do you know any other place in the world where horses dance, the liquid gold is treasured in centuries-old wooden boots—rather than in barrels—and flamenco is the way to understand life? This land is unique, there’s nothing more to say.
I would tell you that in Jerez life should begin each morning with a little batch of churros—those that smear your fingers with grease. Before this happens you’ll have queued—because there will always be people with the same idea as you—at Manuel’s stall. And it won’t matter if it’s winter and the cold numbs the bones or if it’s summer and the fan softens the torrid wait: by taking a bite of one of those crisp pieces of dough—preferably rolled in sugar—the world will look different. In the background, the shouts of María Romero, from the Coja family, who sells tagarninas or snails, cardoons or lemons, depending on the season. Her little stall at the door of the wholesale market ought to be named World Heritage. Inside, it’s another story altogether: the bustle continues, but more organized. In one wing of the building, dating from 1885, you’ll find the vegetables, fruits, and meats. In another, the fish freshly arrived from the coast.
To keep soaking up the everyday Jerez, take a stroll through Plaza del Arenal and Calle Larga, Plaza Plateros, or Alameda Vieja. Lose yourself in the alleys of the San Miguel neighborhood and those of Santiago: when you least expect it, from behind a sheer curtain you’ll be seized by the scent of a kale that has been simmering since early morning. Here you’ll also discover that the most stately of all southern cities is brimming with history. Its origins are captured in its oldest monument, the Alcázar, which reveals that the town was founded after the Muslim invasion of the 8th century: inside are preserved the mosque, the Arab baths, the Andalusian gardens, and even the minaret. From the same era is another mosque—there were as many as 18 in the city—the one that served as the foundation for the cathedral, which received this status from Pope John Paul II in 1980. Its façade, deftly blending Baroque, Neoclassical, and Gothic elements, houses within its core another jewel: the painting The Virgin Child, by Zurbarán.
