Salamanca’s Plaza Mayor in Spain might be the most beautiful square worldwide

TO call Salamanca’s Plaza Mayor ‘just’ a city square, the little word ‘just’ has to pull off a heroic shift.

Let’s not be coy: this isn’t overstating it. The Plaza is a thrilling piece of architecture, quite possibly the most beautiful square in the world.

Construction kicked off on May 10th, 1720, and frankly, urban spaces were never going to recover.

Each side of this elegant rectangle stretches about 80 metres (260 feet), and while it gives off a vibe of flawless symmetry, the truth is – it’s faking it. The façades are out by up to a metre. A charming bit of architectural sleight of hand.

And here’s one of its better-kept secrets: among the carved medallions lining the square is a bust of… Franco. Yes, that Franco.

Salamanca was his base during the first year of the Spanish Civil War, and decades later, someone managed to sneak his likeness into the decorative lineup, rubbing shoulders with the likes of Saint Teresa of Avila.

These days, the city would rather you didn’t notice. But someone clearly does, because the bust is regularly vandalised – spray-painted, defaced, you name it – and then painstakingly scrubbed clean. On big anniversaries, it even gets its own guard.

You’ll often hear the Plaza called la plaza dorada – the golden square – thanks to the honey-toned Villamayor stone it’s built from. When the sunlight hits just right, it glows.

The four surrounding arcades are called “pavilions.” Keep an eye out for the Pavilion of the Petrineros – that’s where Salamanca’s leather artisans worked, back when a well-made saddle was as essential as a good cup of coffee.

Architecturally, one challenge was the lovely but inconvenient medieval church of San Martín, sitting squarely in the way. Rather than knock it down (sacrilege!), they simply worked around it. Classic Spanish pragmatism.

One feature that didn’t survive the drawing board was a grand double tower intended for the town hall. Turns out, the ground couldn’t support the weight. But not to worry – it got relocated to the nearby Iglesia de la Clerecía. Go admire it there.

There are 88 arches in total. Got kids with you? Set them the mission of finding the number 88, hidden beneath an arch in the Lienzo de San Martín vault. (Spoiler alert: it’s really there.)

And then there are 477 balconies. No, that’s not a typo.

Under the main arch of the Royal Pavilion, there’s a sobering inscription: “A woman was killed here. Pray to God for her. Year 1838.” No one quite knows what happened. But legend says the reddish veins on the nearby column are her bloodstains, fossilised into the stone.

READ MORE:

Sit back with a cold beer and take in the Town Hall façade. Some windows are “blind” – they’re fake, part of the design to keep everything visually balanced. No, it wasn’t an overprotective father bricking up his daughter. Just the rhythm of symmetry taken seriously.

Bullfights once roared through this square. One side was even built with continuous balconies – residents insisted on them, knowing they could cash in by renting out the view for corridas. At its peak, the square held up to 20,000 spectators. In the 19th century, earning a doctorate at the local university came with a strange rite of passage: you had to foot the bill for a Plaza Mayor bullfight.

Stop by Café Novelty while you’re here. Founded in 1905, it’s the oldest business in the square, and a fine place to eavesdrop on poets or politicians.

And if you’re lucky, you’ll catch a “Tuna” group – students dressed in 16th-century garb, strumming lutes and guitars, singing Spanish folk tunes in flawless harmony. Give them a tip – they’re scholars, not street performers (but also: they really need the money).

Oh – and if you see people lying flat on their backs in the centre of the square, don’t worry. They’re trying to see all four sides at once. It’s harder than it sounds, but if you manage it, local lore says it brings good luck.

Worth a try, don’t you think?