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I’m aboard the Star Legend on a nine-night sailing through Southern Spain with , one of the few lines that keeps ships in the Med all through the quiet season. There’s a very strong case to be made for visiting Europe in the cooler months. Show up in June, July or August and, trust me, this continent is a boiling-hot cauldron, with very different ideas about proper air-conditioning. And all the famous tourist sites are overrun. 

Come in December, January, February or March, however? Yes, you’ll have to wear a jacket. But blessedly few others will be joining you. And in most cases, you’ll find yourself able to roam with ease; no queues required.

Take, for example, the Mercado Central de Atarazanas, the main food market in . The weather remains the same throughout our trip: highs of about 17, and nothing but sun. During peak summer, this place, right in the heart of one of Andalusia’s most famous cities, would be a major tourist magnet.

But when we visit on a shore excursion led by our ship’s executive chef, Joseph Kalynuik, it’s not busy — we find (mostly) locals, just shopping for morning groceries. The rather grand space dates back to the 14th century, when it was a Moorish shipyard, and once served as a military hospital and barracks. Today, the vaulted, wrought-iron glass ceiling lets in the beautiful day, the sun also illuminating a stained-glass window at one end that illustrates some of Malaga’s main sites.

Underneath the skylight, there’s Manchego cheese and hanging sausages and truffles. Vendors prepare sardines and anchovies. We sample chicharron. Kalynuik picks up stuffed olives and Iberian ham. “Everything here is local and fresh,” he says, when I point out the fish still have hooks in their mouths. “You can see someone actually went out jigging. The catch comes off the boat at 5 a.m., and they bring it straight here.”

As we walk around Malaga’s city centre afterward, the scene remains wonderfully uncrowded. There’s no need to push into popular shops or compete for a table at a restaurant on Plaza de la Constitución, the main square. And this is also true of our other ports along the way.

It’s peaceful when we arrive in , the strange and fascinating British overseas territory — it’s an even mix of Iberia and England, with a bit of North African spice, all hemmed into a tiny bit of land between the Rock, Spain and the sea.

I find no queue to ride the cable car all the way to the Rock, the Jurassic limestone ridge. At the top, we visit the historic Great Siege Tunnels, as well as an expansive platform offering views across the strait, all the way to North Africa.

Our wait time for the best spot on the railing to snap that iconic shot? Almost zero minutes. There are, however, plenty of frisky Barbary apes hanging around, ready to get up close and personal and relieve you of any extra food on your person, or in your bag.

This theme — a leisurely pace, no lines, low stress — remains throughout our voyage. There’s ample room to stroll along the cobblestones beneath the spectacular cathedral on the ordinarily uber-popular island of . There’s light foot traffic at La Ciutat, the arts and science complex that ranks as Valencia’s biggest tourist attraction.

The crowds are missing in , too, where I join another shore excursion, on a tour featuring that most Spanish of food: tapas. Far less famous than the city of the same name in Colombia, this attractive port city of about 200,000 dates back to the Carthaginians. Centuries of Roman rule left their mark, including the impressive Teatro Romano, which wasn’t discovered until 1988. Today, only cruisers from our ship are visiting the site, now a museum.

“The Romans built the theatre here because of the natural acoustics of the hillside,” our guide Maria Ramirez explains. “And then it was covered by layer after layer of everyone else who lived in this space — the Byzantines and Muslims and more.”

Leaving the theatre and walking down the main pedestrian shopping street, we proceed on our food tour. The first stop is El Galeón, a little spot near the naval yard serving a mean Spanish omelette, made with crispy, fried potatoes. “This is something we’ve been eating since we were children,” says Ramirez. At our next stop, La Bodeguilla, we try a local favourite, magra con tomate: pork, tender and perfect, in tomato sauce. It’s a dish usually cooked and enjoyed at home. “In this region, you will find it everywhere.”

The food keeps coming. We walk a few blocks to another hole-in-the-wall restaurant, and then another. Each one is virtually empty — we arrive before the mid-afternoon local lunch rush. Feast after feast is accompanied by generous pours of Spanish wine, the table erupting with boisterous conversation and laughter. “Yes, tapas is about eating,” says Ramirez. “But it’s also about being social.”

As we walk back to the ship, sated and a little tipsy, the sky is clear; the sun is still warming everything to a very comfortable 17 degrees. Just, you know, like every day this time of year. And it will be the same tomorrow, for whatever adventure awaits along this beautiful and ancient and surprisingly sleepy — at least in winter — Mediterranean coast.

Tim Johnson travelled as a guest of Windstar Cruises, which did not review or approve this article.