If Cadiz was a man, it would be the wise old seer of Europe; the crooked, cane-leaning mystic who has witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the reigns of kings and queens come and go and the Heraclitan flux of history in action.

Standing for an estimated four millennia on its narrow seaside spit of land jutting out into the wild Atlantic, this ancient city is hailed as one of the oldest in the world. Its central kernel of old town streets is caked in layers of history; Andalusian palaces conceal Moorish frontispieces, the glittering golden domes of the great cathedral rub shoulders with the ruins of a Roman theatre, while the viewing platforms of the mighty Torre Tavira keep watch over crumbling Phoenician bulwarks and winding courses of needle-thin alleyways below.

However, aged as this city may be, Cadiz still throbs with all the energy of a 400,000-strong metropolis. On the wide Atlantic beachfronts surfers meet the rolling swells, and between the cobblestone plazas and exotic gardens bearing Columbus’ name, enticing seafood cook-ups roll on into the sultry night. Flamenco twists between the baroque buildings while students gurgle manzanilla tipples with tapas, and Cadiz tour guides showcase avant-garde artworks behind the walls of old mudejar mansions.