I stopped at the top of the Santa Bárbara castle to catch my breath; I was astonished by the stunning view from the trenches as well as the steep climb.
Between the Mediterranean Sea and the dust-coloured mountains the city lay like a cat in the afternoon sun. In the distance, the towers of Benidorm caught the last rays in a golden glow. A cruise ship entered the harbor majestically.
It would not be wrong to say that Alicante has not been on my travel list so far. Ever since a memorably terrible family holiday in a cramped flat on the Costa Blanca in the 1970s, I had regarded it as little more than a synonym for cheap British overseas tourism of the dreariest kind.
What I didn’t realize was that this Spanish provincial capital and the suburban coast surrounding it were two very different things. A classic example of the “airport city,” Alicante tends to be overlooked by visitors who flock to the resorts of Jávea and Torrevieja.
Compared to Malaga and Palma de Mallorca, which have recently gained fame and fortune as short-break destinations in their own right, Alicante is still on the inside lane but – as I discovered on a recent exploration – moving steadily in the same direction.
I arrived on a sun-warmed evening in late February and headed down the Explanada de España, an elegant promenade paved with wave-like mosaic patterns and lined with palm trees. I walked past a wall of mansion blocks with ornate fin-de-siècle facades and fantastic domes, past locals in short sleeves, jackets over their sleeves. Where Explanada ended, El Postiguet, Alicante’s much-loved city beach, began; Its mirror-calm water was warm to the touch. Everything was quiet and easy.
But there’s much more here than beaches and spring warmth: Alicante has culture and personality, too. There was much to admire in the old city’s sandstone palaces, grand Renaissance churches, and small squares like the delicious Plaza Gabriel Miró, an urban oasis cooled by bubbling fountains and shaded by monumental ficus trees.
Once a gypsy quarter clinging to the lower slopes of the Benacantil escarpment (it looms over the town like a moonmount), Santa Cruz is now a perfect Instagram-ready neighborhood full of whitewashed cottages and cheerful geraniums. painted pot.
An elderly gentleman sat in a wicker chair outside his front door, taking in the morning air. He told me that foreign buyers were buying property in Santa Cruz at a tremendous pace: further evidence of Alicante’s increasingly cosmopolitan character.
However, this is still a place closely tied to local traditions. A girl in a heavily embroidered silk skirt and lace headdress passed down the Rambla de Méndez Núñez: the costume worn at Alicante’s spectacular midsummer festival, Les Fogueres de Sant Joan (June 20-24), giant figures in garish Disney colors amid fireworks It was set on fire in the street.
The bonfire-themed Museu de les Fogueres, high up the Rambla, gives an idea of how enthusiastically (and loudly) the city flips its hair during that brief night-to-day journey.
But the biggest surprise of Alicante for me was its food. In fact, the city is worth visiting just for its gastronomy. A visit to the magnificent Mercado Central, a brick-built cathedral of food from 1922, was a useful introduction to Alicantino ingredients such as dry-seared tuna mojama, succulent red shrimps from the nearby port of Santa Pola, and almond-based turrón. Popular dessert at Christmas.
Alicante appeared to have more bars and restaurants per square kilometer than even most Spanish towns of similar size. There were stylish gastro-bars (Manero, A La Sazón, Taberna del Gourmet) and temples using local ingredients; the most important among them was the incomparable Nou Manolín, with which I fixed red shrimps one night. a la plancha and crispy fried baby kidney beans.
There were old-fashioned tavern-like tapas bars (Cantó, Cervecería Sento) and brass-forward arrocerias like Dársena, a classic of the genre. Best of all was Espacio Montoro in the uptown Vistahermosa district, where chef Pablo Montoro practices exciting avant-garde cuisine. trompe l’oeil tricks and unexpected flavors.
There was a common theme in my conversations with locals over the weekend: The city is changing, mostly for the better; The streets are cleaner and smarter. The once quiet months are now busier than ever, with a new crop of visitors discovering the appeal of its brilliant low-season climate.
But to me at least, Alicante was still a long way from the glitzy and overly touristy Malaga. I found it to be a big-hearted, rawly beautiful place, and most importantly, still a little shabby and salty around the edges. Exactly the qualities you can want and expect from your ideal Spanish seaside city.
Fundamentals
Iberia (iberia.com) and Easyjet (easyjet.com) fly from UK airports to Alicante for £46 return.
Paul Richardson was a guest at a five-star converted convent in the old town: Hotel Hospes Amérigo (hospes.com; doubles from £149 per night), seaside mansion Casa Alberola (casaalberolahotel.com; doubles from £95 per night) ), and Alicante Tourist Board (alicanteturismo.com).