Square of Spain is Cádiz’s mix of sunshine, history, and political drama-basically an outdoor living room with better architecture. Its centerpiece is a gleaming white monument to the Spanish Constitution of 1812, one of Europe’s first written constitutions and a big deal for Cádiz, which hosted its signing. The design is no slouch, representing two bronze horsemen symbolizing war and peace, plus a heroic Hercules, the city’s mythic mascot, keeping watch over it all.

But the monument isn’t the only show here. The Customs Palace, with its imposing neoclassical façade and heavy columns, still struts its stuff as the provincial government’s headquarters. Then there’s the House of the Five Towers-literally five connected houses, each topped with its own little watchtower. Built in the late 1700s, it’s a textbook example of Cádiz architecture on the cusp of change, shifting from elaborate Baroque to the cleaner lines of Neoclassicism.

On the north side, the San Carlos neighborhood frames the square with elegant 18th-century homes, their façades reflecting the city’s golden age of trade and power. All of it sits around leafy parkland, where benches invite you to imagine what life looked like here two centuries ago.

The best part about the square is you don’t need a history degree to enjoy it-just a good pair of sunglasses and maybe an ice cream in hand.

Saint John of God Square-or as locals call it, La Corredera-is Cádiz’s front porch, living room, and civic stage all rolled into one. Originally laid out in the 15th century, when Columbus was still just doodling ship ideas, the square was built just outside the old city walls. Back then, Cádiz was a cluster of sandy islands, and this area was a sea-splashed stretch of reclaimed land.

Entry came via the sea-facing gate, now charmingly known as the Arch of the People-because nothing says “democratic access” like a once-fortified gateway.

By the 18th century, things were getting crowded, and the old Consistorial Houses-essentially the city’s early bureaucratic digs-were torn down to make way for something a bit grander. The current Town Hall took shape, with a Neoclassical heart and, in 1865, a bit of Gothic flair. Moreover, an Isabelline-style façade was added, topped with a pediment that features none other than Hercules, flexing his mythological credentials as the alleged founder of Gadeira-Cádiz’s ancient alter ego.

And if that name sounds old, it should. By the time Hannibal showed up during the Second Punic War (218 to 201 BC), Cádiz was already centuries into its coastal career. As far as ancient cities go, Cádiz doesn’t just have history-it remembers it.

Today, the square is less about defending the harbor and more about sipping coffee under the palms while the Town Hall keeps an eye on things-just as it’s done for generations.

The Roman Theatre of Cádiz-also known as the Balbi Theatre-is proof that even in ancient times, Cádiz knew how to put on a show. Unearthed in 1980 after centuries of playing hide-and-seek beneath the medieval city, this 1st-century BC structure was built around 70 BC, back when the Roman Empire was still figuring out how to get the better of the Greeks.

The brains (and probably the ego) behind it? Lucius Cornelius Balbus the Elder, a Cádiz-born Roman politician, friend of Julius Caesar. Along with his nephew, Balbus the Younger, he had big dreams of expanding Gades-today’s Cádiz-into a gleaming Neapolis, or “New City.” So far, we’ve found their theatre and signs of an amphitheater, suggesting these guys were building more than just infrastructure-they were building a vibe.

By the end of the 3rd century AD, though, the curtain had dropped. The theatre was abandoned, and over time it was scavenged for stone, turned into a stable, a storehouse, and even a medieval apartment complex. Eventually, the ruins became the foundation for a Moorish fort aptly called the Castle of the Theatre-because sometimes history just layers itself like a lasagna.

Even partially excavated, this site is considered one of the oldest and possibly the largest Roman theatres in Spain. It features a classic horseshoe-shaped auditorium with parabolic tiered seating and a vaulted distribution gallery hidden beneath. The outer wall, made from finely cut ashlar stone, it's as imposing as ever.

The modern Theatre Visitors' Center is your backstage pass to the past. Inside, you’ll find detailed models and exhibits covering three acts: the Theatre of Neapolis, the Castle of the Theatre, and the original Theatre of Balbus. Spoiler: there’s no popcorn, but the ruins do all the storytelling you need.

Flower Square does exactly what it seems like-it’s the spot in Cádiz where blossoms take center stage. The central stalls overflow with color, giving the square its perfume and energy. During Carnival, it cranks up even further, as street theaters and performances spill into the area, turning the whole square into one big stage.

But there’s more here than flowers and festivities. This space once belonged to the Convent of the Shoeless, which eventually gave way to something very different: the Post Office and Telegraph building, opened in 1930. Built of brick and dressed with shiny ceramic details, it’s a fine example of the eclectic regionalist (tile and decorative brickwork mix) style, standing out against the more traditional Cádiz architecture nearby.

The square also keeps its share of older treasures. Building No. 1, dating back to 1746, shows off a classic Baroque façade, with decorative pilasters that make the front look both grand and dramatic. Then there’s Building No. 12, designed by local architect Torcuato Benjumeda in a neat neoclassical style, with giant Doric pilasters that give it a strong, imposing look. Together, these buildings mix centuries of design into one compact plaza.

Flower Square may be known for its blooms, but it’s just as much about layers of history and a backdrop that blends Baroque curves, neoclassical order, and 20th-century flair. Stop by for the flowers, stay for the architecture, maybe you'll be lucky enough to catch the Carnival as well.

Once just a humble farmers' market, the Central Market of Cádiz decided to upgrade in the late 1890s. Enter Torcuato Benjumeda, the city’s go-to architect (he also did the Town Hall and the Church of Saint Joseph, no big deal), who designed the new market like a Roman forum with snacks: an open quadrangle lined with sturdy Doric columns, giving grocery shopping a touch of classical solemnity.

Part of the market was built right over the old Convent of the Shoeless-so while you're picking out seafood, you're also standing on a bit of sacred ground. That central space is now the main pavilion, flanked by two additional columned wings added to keep up with the city’s growing appetite for produce.

A major facelift in the early 2000s brought the market into the modern era without losing its historic charm. Today, there are over 170 stalls hawking everything from fresh seafood to baked goods, vegetables, meat, and just enough quirky side stands to keep you guessing-yes, you can pick up pickles, paper bags, and fishing gear, all in one go.

The central pavilion is a seafood lover’s dream, with counters piled high with octopus, tuna, shrimp, and whatever else the Atlantic decided to deliver that morning. Step into the left wing, and you’ll find the Gastronomic Corner, a foodie haven where locals and tourists alike graze on Cádiz’s greatest hits. The right wing leans carnivorous, featuring butchers and the occasional oddball veggie stand.

List of highlights from the tasting lineup that are worth trying out are: El Comado does wine and meats like it’s hosting your birthday party. La Tapería de Luna serves up soups and tapas that feel like home. Gadisushi delivers Japanese precision with Andalusian flair. Gadesbeer keeps things hoppy. La Sartén takes eggs and tortillas seriously. And Queso 360? Cheese from every corner of the planet.

The Central Market is a culinary microcosm of Cádiz, dressed in columns and ready to feed you.

The Tavira Tower isn’t just another old lookout-it’s Cádiz’s version of a rooftop with a 300-year-old guest list. At 149 feet above sea level, it holds the title of tallest spot in the Old City, giving anyone at the top a serious advantage in the 18th-century game of “What ship is that?”

Originally part of The Palace of the Marquises of Recaño , the tower came with all the aristocratic bells and whistles. Cádiz was booming from its trade with the Americas and needed more than your average harbor patrol. All of this resulted in a skyline punctuated by over 126 watchtowers, with Tavira Tower sitting at the very top.

Built in 1780, Tavira Tower was always meant to be the city’s official lookout. And who better to man the post than Don Antonio Tavira, the first watchman and the man who gave the tower its name? He didn’t just climb the stairs-he left a legacy.

Today, Tavira Tower still keeps an eye on things-with a twist. Step into the Camera Obscura, and a guide will darken the room and light up your curiosity. Thanks to an old-school optical system (think spy tech meets science fair), real-time images of the city and sea are projected onto a circular table. It’s like Google Earth, but powered by mirrors and 18th-century ingenuity. The show lasts about 20 minutes, long enough to be amazed but short enough to still grab a tapa afterward.

The other rooms of the tower house exhibitions on Cádiz’s golden age, the evolution of the camera obscura, and a star-studded chapter on Spain’s 1812 Constitution-yes, the country’s very first, penned right here in Cádiz.

So climb up, squint out, and time-travel a little. Tavira Tower offers the best views in town-and not just the physical kind.

The Castle of San Sebastián owns one of the city’s most dramatic backdrops. Grasping onto a rocky islet at the end of a long stone causeway, it feels like a fortress made for postcards. But before the cannons and lighthouses, legend says this was the site of the Temple of Kronos, the Greek titan who fathered some of mythology’s heavyweight gods.

Switching from BC to AD, 1457 to be exact, when a Venetian crew-recovering from the plague-built a small chapel here, probably in gratitude for surviving. The big defensive upgrade came in 1706, when a full-fledged castle was constructed to shield Cádiz’s northern flank. Built with an irregular plan, the fort absorbed layers of history, including a watchtower dating back to Muslim rule, set into its base like a hidden time capsule.

By the 19th century, engineering caught up with the waves. In 1860, a levee connected the island to the mainland, making life easier for soldiers and visitors alike. Then in 1908, architect Rafael de la Cerda added a lighthouse-no ordinary one, but Spain’s second electric-powered beacon, rising 41 meters above the sea. Where Kronos once reigned and cannons once roared, beams of light now sweep across the Atlantic.

Declared a cultural landmark in 1985, the Castle of San Sebastián has swapped battles for sightseeing. Wander through its weathered walls, climb its towers, or stand at the lighthouse and let the sea air do the rest. With sweeping views of Cádiz and the ocean that once made it a fortress of destiny, it’s history with a killer panorama-and today, the only thing it defends Cádiz from is tourists without sunscreen.

There are over 66 beaches dotting the island, but let’s be honest-La Caleta steals the spotlight. Nestled between the Castle of Santa Catalina and the Castle of San Sebastian, this little slice of paradise doesn’t just rest on its laurels-it proudly waves its blue flag every year, flaunting sparkling clean waters and pristine facilities.

It’s popular, to say the least, so don’t expect a secluded getaway-but hey, when you’ve got sunsets that can stop traffic and views that practically scream “Instagram,” who’s complaining?

The two castles that flank the beach are certainly impressive-no surprise there. But if you’re after true eye candy, head to the Spa of Our Lady of La Palma and Real. Built in the early 20th century, it was once a neglected relic, but it’s been resurrected and is now home to the Subaquatic Archaeology Centre of the Andalusian Historical Institute. Because, apparently, even spas need a little depth.

Historically speaking, La Caleta was once the link between the two islands of ancient Cadiz. Phoenician boats landed here, and let’s just say they didn’t just drop off some fish-this beach is practically built on history. From ancient shipwrecks to buried treasures, this is the birthplace of Cádiz.

It’s not just history buffs who are drawn to La Caleta-the beach has also served as a movie star. You’ve seen it in 007’s James Bond: Die Another Day. The scene with Halle Berry in a bikini and Pierce Brosnan sipping a mojito at La Habana? Spoiler alert-it was shot right here in La Caleta, Cádiz. So if you’re looking for a place that’s part historical treasure and part silver-screen legend, grab your sunscreen and head to La Caleta-where the past, present, and movie magic collide.

In 1596, Cádiz found itself on the wrong end of a very bad visit from the Anglo-Dutch party crashers led by the Duke of Essex and Admiral Howard. These weren’t your average tourists-they looted the city, torched the Spanish fleet, and left Cádiz smoldering in ruins. The damage was so severe that Spain, quite literally, went broke the next year. Oops.

One witty chronicler summed it up best: Spain had “all heads of command and none were feet that would follow.” In short: too many bosses, not enough hustle. King Philip, less than amused, launched not one but two more armadas in a fit of salty vengeance. Both failed. Cádiz was still in pieces. But out of the ashes came something solid: hope. And hope, as it turns out, looked a lot like a fortress.

Construction of the Castle of Santa Catalina began in 1598, part therapy, part defense strategy. The original design came from Cristóbal de Rojas. Sadly, Rojas didn’t live to see it finished; that job went to Ignacio de Sala, who wrapped it up in 1621, just in time for Philip III to pat himself on the back.

Perched dramatically at the tip of La Caleta Beach, the fortress was a prototype for colonial forts in Cuba, Mexico, and Puerto Rico. With pavilions, cisterns, barracks, sentry boxes, a dry moat, and a state of the art drawbridge, it checks all the classic fortress boxes. The views from the battlements don't disappoint either so you might forget they once housed military prisoners.

These days, Santa Catalina has swapped cannons for culture. It now hosts exhibitions, concerts, and the Alcances Documentary Film Festival-now that's a transformation worth discovering.

Genovés Park is the Old City's answer to “How green can you get?”-a leafy, 30,000-square-meter escape hatch from Cádiz’s cobbled ocean. Born in 1892 and holding the title of “biggest urban oasis” until Celestino Mutis Park snatched the crown in 2012, it still reigns supreme in charm and botanical bragging rights.

Back in the day, this patch of land was charmingly known as the “Walk of Parsley”-a windswept military no-man’s-land wedged between the barracks of Composanto and La Bomba. Not exactly picnic material. That all changed when someone had the bright idea to swap soldiers for shrubbery. Today, visitors enter through Rocío Jurado Square and stroll down an avenue flanked by manicured flowerbeds.

And what flowerbeds! Nestled between date palms and cypress trees, oyster stone fountains gurgle away, surrounded by over 150 species of exotic flora. There’s a Canary Islands dragon tree looking mildly suspicious, a New Zealand Christmas tree flexing its floral muscles, and a Monkey Puzzle Tree that seems just as confused as everyone else.

Kids love the whimsical waterfall, grotto, and the delightfully odd “Children Under the Umbrella” sculpture. Bronze tributes also abound: from local legend Manuel de Falla to Trafalgar’s epic sea squabble, this park doesn’t skimp on cultural seasoning.

With wrought-iron gates, Victorian-style lampposts, and a kiosk straight out of a Dickens novel, Genovés Park is part garden, part time machine. Don’t miss the open-air José María Pemán Summer Theatre, where Cádiz’s drama queens (and kings) take to the stage under the stars.

Manuel de Falla y Matheu, Cádiz-born and 20th-century maestro of Spanish music, famously never came home. After Franco’s rise to power in the 1930s, Falla packed his piano and fled to Argentina. The new regime tried wooing him back with flattery and offers, but Falla wasn’t buying it. He died in exile, unmoved by dictatorship or diplomacy.

The city didn’t take it personally. In fact, Cádiz had already renamed its main theater after him in 1926, when Manuel was basking in the glow of national fame. Before that, it was simply known as the Gran Teatro, pretty modest.

The Grand Theatre Falla is a Neo-Mudéjar marvel, with three proud horseshoe arch entrances dressed in red-and-white stripes like a particularly festive candy cane. Inside, staircases swirl up toward U-shaped balconies, and above it all hovers an allegorical ceiling painting of Paradise-because if you’re not looking at the stage, you might as well look at heaven.

Each February, the theater transforms into the sparkling, satirical heart of the Cádiz Carnival, where performances are sharp, funny, and occasionally outrageous. The rest of the year, it keeps the spotlight going with concerts, plays, and enough drama to satisfy even the ghost of Manuel de Falla-who may not have come back in body, but surely lingers in spirit backstage.

San Antonio Square has long been one of Cádiz’s beating hearts. Back in the day it was called the Field of Rockrose, but its fortunes changed in the 1600s when a small hermitage to Saint Antonio popped up-and gave the square its current name. A nearby well kept Cádiz hydrated for years, making this more than just a meeting spot; it was survival central.

By the 18th century, the square had grown into a proper hub for trade, faith, and politics. It was here that Spain’s landmark Constitution of 1812 was proclaimed-and, not so long after, where the liberal movement of 1820 met its violent end. In short, if Cádiz had breaking news, chances are it was announced-or crushed-right here.

The architecture around the square keeps the drama going. The façades show a neat uniformity, except for the slimmer outline of the Church of Saint Antonio, which still draws the eye. The Gaditano Casino, an 18th-century Baroque beauty, was later remodeled during the reign of Queen Isabel II, giving it a 19th-century makeover that mixed Romantic and revival styles. Step inside and you’ll also find Moorish-inspired decorations added in 1890.

Then there’s the old Aramburu Bank, sporting a white marble front from the 1700s but modernized with a splash of early 20th-century style. Add to that the House Museum of writer José María Pemán, once the home of Cádiz’s celebrated literary figure, and the square becomes part open-air gallery, part history book.

Today, San Antonio Square is more than a patch of paving stones-it’s where Cádiz layers faith, politics, and artistry into one lively setting. Sit at a café, look up at the façades, and you’re not just in a square-you’re sitting in the middle of four centuries of stories.