As I pulled into Santander, the objections voiced by my Asturian friends were still ringing in my ears. “A weekend in Santander? What a waste of time!” But I knew to take their condemnation with a grain of salt; it’s only natural that natives of Gijón, the largest city in Asturias, would look down on the nearby capital of Cantabria. The two coastal cities are of a similar size and both court summer tourists; but whereas Gijón’s roots are industrial and working-class, privileged Santander owes its identity to royalty and wealth.

I’ve been living in Spain for years, in sun-drenched Valencia, Segovia and, currently, Asturias. But my travels hadn’t yet brought me to Cantabria, a small state in the middle of Spain’s northern coast, between Asturias and the Basque Country. Cantabria is strikingly beautiful with lush, verdant valleys and towering mountains; but a third of its citizens choose to live in the capital, where they enjoy access to world-class culture, sports, beaches and employment.

Santander grew up around the bay which shares its name and for most of its history was an unassuming fishing village. But its character changed forever in the dawn of the 20th century when King Alfonso XIII pronounced that Santander would be his summer residence. On the Peninsula Magdalena near the harbor, he built an incredible palace in an eclectic style mixing English and French influences. Spain’s nobility tagged along, erecting chalets and mansions along the seaside — and almost overnight Santander became the summertime playground of the aristocracy.

As I walked along the Calle de Reina Victoria, where the majority of the noblesse had settled, I had no difficulty recognizing the effect of the sudden influx of wealth on the modest city. The attentions of the populace turned from fishing and dock work to service and recreation; and although the chilly waters of the Cantabrian Sea make swimming a daunting prospect, the city blossomed as an elite tourist destination. The royalty has long since vanished, but the focus remains: Tourism is Santander’s main industry, and nearly 70 percent of the city’s jobs are in the service sector.

My stroll along the Reina Victoria ended at the perfectly upkept Magdalena Palace and the beautiful gardens and beaches which surround it. A more peaceful getaway is hard to imagine; for nearly 20 summers, Alfonso and his court remained loyal guests of Santander, until the end of the monarchy in 1930. Stripped of its royalty, the palace swiftly found a new purpose as host to the International University of Menéndez Pelayo, a prestigious summer school for foreign students to learn the language and culture of Spain, which still convenes today.

From the palace hills, I had a perfect view of the port and watched as a ferry arrived from Plymouth. Santander is one of only two Spanish cities with a maritime connection to England and also boasts an extremely central international airport. So it’s not surprising that there has been a heavy foreign influence on the city which helped modernize it ahead of the rest of Spain and even played a hand in the name of one of its most popular beaches: In the conservative years of Franco’s dictatorship, the scandalous bathing attire of foreign students at the university’s beach so shocked the Santanderinos that they christened it the Playa Bikinis.

Walking north from the Peninsula Magdalena, I reached the neighborhood of El Sardinero and two of the city’s most emblematic buildings: the Hotel Real and the extravagant Gran Casino Sardinero, both built shortly after Alfonso’s arrival. Perched regally on the top of a hill, the palatial hotel overlooks both the city center and the bay. But I was more interested in the casino, which wouldn’t look out of place in a Bond film. Shrugging off the populist derision of my Asturian friends still fresh in my mind (“A city built for the amusement of the rich!”), I strutted inside.

Forty minutes later and 100 euros poorer, I strutted back out and turned my attention to less expensive distractions, such as El Sardinero’s beaches, which sport the ingenious names of First Beach and Second Beach. An elderly gentleman taking the sun on a bench explained to me that the smaller First Beach had been reserved for nobles and wealthy merchants but hastened to clarify that today people are free to visit whichever they like.

Yes, I was finding that the development of Santander was indeed tied intimately to power and money, and the next stop on my itinerary did little to disabuse me of this notion. On the Paseo de Pareda, a tree-lined boulevard near the port, I found the massive headquarters of the Banco Santander, Europe’s largest bank with over 90 million customers worldwide. In addition to being the city’s major employer, the bank plays a prominent role in Santander’s cultural life, sponsoring nearly every festival, sports club and event.

The Paseo de Pareda separates the maritime district from the city’s historic center which, after surviving the Civil War intact, was completely destroyed by a fire in 1941. Due to the subsequent reconstruction, Santander’s old town is much more modern than those of other Spanish cities but not without its share of historic treasures. The cathedral is particularly worth a look, especially for the 13th-century crypt which survived the blaze intact. The nearby Plaza Porticada, the city hall and the bustling marketplace of La Esperanza are also impressive; and with an array of cultural offerings such as the Museum of Fine Arts and the highly praised Maritime Museum of the Cantabrian Sea with its 80-foot whale skeleton, there’s plenty to occupy any number of days.

All the sightseeing had stoked my appetite, so I went back to the port and sat down at one of the busy outdoor terraces to order a ration of the city specialty: rabas, or deep-fried squid. My weekend in Santander was nearing its end and I ate slowly, enjoying the final views of the bay, the still-crowded beaches, the tranquil maritime promenades and the elegant mansions on the hill. It’s a city truly defined by wealth and the lingering memory of royalty, and although my friends in Gijón would later scoff at the notion, that regal influence has benefited Santander enormously.