Any Saturday or Sunday morning is a party in Besalú. The old capital of Cataluña wakes up early, the beautiful greenish waters have a honey-colored hue to them, as they await your visit. The tourists begin to arrive and end up falling to their knees, exhausted. The town knows that its century-old aura is as strong as a spell. Everyone that visits is cast under the spell, there is no escaping.
It’s like you’ve been put under a spell as soon as you get close to the long 11th century Roman bridge. Besalú’s best medieval profile as you come from Fluviá. Once inside the town, the small, intricate, dark streets of the center or Jewish quarters seem like mysterious secrets in the shadows.