The past week was more than just a vacation, it was a scouting trip. For the first few days we scoured towns in the Valcencia region of Spain, with the aim of appreciating the area more and establishing whether Dénia is indeed the place for us to plan a future home. ---- All rights reserved. nd.com Read on...

Once you get yourself right inside a typical Spanish rural town, they all pretty much look the same: narrow streets, tall town houses, clusters of cafés and bars. Understanding the character of a Spanish town lies beneath its architecture, hidden in less tangible impressions.

In and around Dénia

Having fallen for Dénia on our first visit in October 2008, we were driven to return to confirm that our immediate attachment was not simply the result of holiday sun, sea and sangria. Gladly, our initial feelings for the town had not changed, and returning felt very comfortable.

Dénia is not one of the cheapest locations to buy property on the Costa Blanca, so with similar properties apparently up to tens of thousands of Euros cheaper in surrounding inland town, we felt the need to explore those options.

Few towns stood out to us as possible places for relocation. Travelling south, one heads closer to the Costa Del Sol and the land of the great British ex-pat invasion. This is tourist land at its most intensively exploited, which begins to become clearly apparent at Calpe, then degrades rapidly into the monstrous Benidorm – which, we read this week, has recently received approval for a further 22 skyscrapers and 4,000 new homes.

There are great locations still further south in the regions of Murcia and Andalucia, but something continues to draw us back to the Costa Blanca and the borders of the Alicante and Valencia provinces.

Inland from Dénia lies Pego, a town that promised cheaper properties. But it seems to struggle with establishing a distinct personality, being a town that feels its only reason to exist is as somewhere to live. It’s not that we feel the need for attractions or other trappings, but a sense of identity and purpose greatly enlivens a town.

Other towns, more and less rural passed us by, most in being a little too rural and remote for our tastes. Living more than about an hour from an airport with direct flights to London is less attractive when considering our future career plans and hopes.

Looking over Xátiva

Xátiva, on the other hand, stood out. The town is directly overlooked by a steep hill on which is perched one of the most extensively preserved castles we have yet seen on our travels. The town at first appeared like any other Spanish town, but driving around we became aware of a distinct identity. There was something a subtly different about the architecture and layout and gave us the feeling of a lingering Moorish influence, something that has become diluted with many more tourist orientated towns. 

Back to base

After many miles had passed under our wheels, we returned to Dénia and the assurance that despite the added expense, this was to be our target. Dénia most certainly has a distinct personality, if a split one.  

To the north of the town lies the seemingly endless beach and the expected tourist area. Here, hotels, apartment blocks and beach-side restaurants cater for the fleeting sun-seekers. Building regulations enforce a limited number of floors on these blocks, resulting a much more pleasant experience than Benidorm, for example.

The north section of the central town itself is the most traditionally Spanish, with older town houses and small squares reached via narrow passages and streets. Nearer the port, buildings become more modern, with apartment blocks and and the main shopping high street. 

Dénia’s port services the needs of fishermen – it’s regular fish market is well known, if, in our experience, a little on the expensive side – and is a ferry terminal for sea access to the Balearic Islands such as Ibiza, Mallorca and Menorca.

To the south-west sits the mountain of Montgó, the foothills of which have become the main villa style residential area. Here a tangle of small roads lead to all manner of properties from small, simple holiday homes, to extensive, multi-bedroom villas with surrounding land. Some have simple gardens, while others small orange groves. Most, of course, have pools.

Back home

The holiday over, it is time for action, our hearts remain most certainly in Dénia: the character of the town, its lively and energetic centre, but peaceful, secluded residential suburbs, a mountain at its back, and an ocean at its front. All these feel right for us, as does the vastly improved quality of life available in such a place. (I even prefer driving out there compared to the UK.)

It will likely take us a couple of years to achieve, but we are setting out with purpose and the promise of a great adventure ahead, one that more than compensates for the hard graft ahead. 

Expect me (and Jen) to write more about Dénia and Spain as we learn the language, understand more of the country, and work towards a home in another country, between a mountain and the sea.

Related posts

• About forgetting (0)
• A very different rhythm (2)
• Rural Adjustments (1)
• Pinch me? I’m already awake. (5)
• A slice of hospital life (2)

Running time: 27 minutes.

Listen here

Get a free with a two week trial from eMusic.com
$30 or 10% discount with Budget Rent-a-Car.
Support the show with GoDaddy promo code !
MTECH11for a 25% discount when you spend $100 or more
MTECH2 for 20% off $50 or more
MTECH330 for 30% off .com domains

Related posts

• Minor Technicality #53 – Eating wild stuff (0)
• The secret absinthe (5)
• About forgetting (0)
• Real, big-boy maps in my pocket (0)
• A very different rhythm (2)

We both loved Spain. The town of Dénia, perfectly under commercialised, provided a taste of an interesting and attractive way of life.

Now I understand why so many British fall in love with that country enough to pack up and live out there. There is more on the specifics of our holiday over at jEN’s blog.

I packed with almost more drawing and painting kit than clothes. The target of spending many hours capturing the world around us was thwarted a little by my coming down with sickness for most of our first week, but I am pleased to say that I have enough drawings, sketches, scribbles, and reference photographs to create at least half a dozen paintings.

For now, here on my flickr page are some more complete images from the 200 or so photos and videos I took over the fortnight. Paintings will have to wait for some more planning, some more learning of techniques so I have half a chance of carrying out those plans, and of course, as ever, some more free time.

Related posts

• The glorious mechanics of film (0)
• Minor Technicality 50 – Sun, sea, sand and pencils (0)
• Where is the castle? (0)
• Orange groves with benefits (1)
• Officially needing more Spain (0)

Jesus and the joys of a Motel6

On arriving to Janesville base camp one one afternoon, we were overjoyed to see a very special guest was also staying that night – and a few friends, perhaps, as the car could easily seat a handful of chums.

We stayed at a Motel6 proved to be an interesting (and cheap, which was the whole idea) experience. Complete refurbishment was still well underway, but we had been assured one of the brand spanking newly decorated rooms. On arrival, it seems the outside of the building must be the ‘second phase’ of refurbishment.

New was what we got, and the interior was entirely new. Great new, modern bathroom, new furniture – which was pleasingly solid and heavy in quality – and the new TV was still fitted with a few of the little blue plastic sticky things that I can only assume are to protect particular points of the casing, yet are placed at entirely inexplicable locations. Most spectacular of all was the glistening gaiety of the Motel6 corporate duvet covers. Trucks, bears, skiers, and Motel6 logos, clearly screaming at all the possible adventures travelers might expect when partaking of the Motel6 experience – the picture barely does it justice. The ice machine delivered a taunting humming yet never any ice, and the only thing the dispensing machine was all out of was disposable razors.

It’s all about people, however. To greet us was a solidly built, calf-tattooed, orange woman with a voice decibel level appropriate to deliver announcements to a Butlins camp without a PA system. Each morning, a one-eyed guy would be dropped off for work and would eagerly start rummaging through the previous day’s trash for treasures. There was the midnight pacing guy upstairs who then paced some more around 4 a.m. (we deduced the first pacing session was him packing, the second him checking and leaving). There were the 542 (ish) Mexicans who had managed to squeeze in next door for a night. There was the early hours headboard slapping activity of nearby humping. And then there was the older guy who was taken away handcuffed by police, followed by the irate Mexican shouting into his mobile outside the very same door later that day – deductions are all yours.

See jEN’s post for her take on the Motel6 experience.

The best way to tell whether you are in the USA is look for a drive-thru. I did experience a drive-thru ATM for the first time, but could not resist capturing this drive-thru tobacco store, Smoker’s Best Friend.

You’ll find a couple more American oddities on my flickr page. To discover why our hire car is described as our “sweet sympathy ride” (see the topmost image) you’ll have to tune in to the next MinorTechnicality podcast.

*These oddities do not include images from House on the Rock, for which the word ‘oddity’ does not even get close to hinting at the mere essence quirkiness of that place. More on House on the Rock in another post.

Related posts

• The secret absinthe (5)
• Another San Francisco (0)
• Real, big-boy maps in my pocket (0)
• Pinch me? I’m already awake. (5)
• The British Museum and a bunch of artists (0)