Villajoyosa: Jewel of Spain’s Costa Blanca

By Max Milano

Road-tripping in Spain is always a journey of discovery. You might stumble upon the ruins of a Roman domus, almost forgotten by the roadside, or a string of 1,000-year-old Moorish castles on hills above the freeway. Spain is a country where Roman aqueducts dot the countryside, some just a few miles from seaside tourist hotspots where pale British visitors sip even paler beer and feast on English breakfasts of Heinz beans and sausages.

This is the contrast you'll find when you discover Villajoyosa—"The City of Joy" on the Costa Blanca. It’s close enough to Benidorm that the local tram connects them, yet worlds apart in culture, history, and architecture.

Villajoyosa is easy to overlook. Like many Spanish beach towns, it’s bypassed by the freeway and nestled between bigger draws—Alicante and Benidorm. But do yourself a favor: make a habit of leaving the freeway when driving along the Spanish Mediterranean coast. This winding, sometimes roundabout way of exploring the coast reveals hidden treasures. Villajoyosa is one such gem—beautiful and authentic despite strong gentrification, still the real deal, for now.

Villajoyosa, Spain.

Roman Roots: A Town of Ancient Prosperity

We park down by the beach in an underground parking lot. This is a great feature of many beach towns in Spain. We step out into the winter sun. It hits our faces but doesn’t burn. The sky is blue and crisp, the sand clean and dotted with palm trees. The colorful villas stacked against the beach look like children’s play blocks. The cafés are still empty on the short boardwalk because it’s early by Spanish standards (11 a.m. or so). No one dares to eat lunch until 2 p.m., and the early breakfast rush has come and gone.

Contrasts. Villajoyosa, Spain. Pic by Max Milano

We wander into the maze of colorful buildings ahead. It’s all uphill, and the pedestrian alleyways are narrow and twisting. Sharp shadows drawn by the early sun create heavy contrasts of bright primary colors and deep darks, punctuated by images of saints or the Virgin. You can tell which villas have been remodeled for Airbnbs and which are still inhabited by elderly locals. Hint: The remodeled villas are sterile, empty, freshly painted, and have keypads on the doors. The ones still lived in have chipped paint, a touch of shabbiness, and signs of life—dogs, cats, saints painted on tiles, and smiling old fogeys enjoying the sun because this is the village of joy, after all.

“Hola Señor, ¿cómo podemos llegar al mercado?” I ask a smiling old man in a wool cap and thin sweater, standing by his shabby door with the biggest grin in Spain.

“¡Arriba, siempre para arriba!” he says, pointing uphill. Always uphill.

Old Timer Smiling. Old Town Villajoyosa, Spain.

I snap a photo and move on. I’m keenly aware that his neighbors are being relentlessly replaced by sterile Airbnbs, empty all winter. How many old fogeys remain in the old town? What will this place feel like when they’re all gone? For now, it’s like a beautiful coral reef where the bleaching has begun. It’s not dead yet, but time will change it. One day, it will become a Spanish Disneyland. A Pirates of the Caribbean or Las Vegas version of colorful Spanish houses for pale northerners to enjoy for a few weeks a year.

Old Town, Villajoyosa, Spain.

But these houses know that all things must pass. These old walls have seen it all. There’s Roman ruins beneath our feet, mosaic floors, and coins stamped with the Caesar’s face. Give Caesar what is Caesar’s. The togas are gone, but the mark of the beast still appears on the Roman coins buried in the sand under the old town, right next to Egyptian amulets brought in by Phoenician traders. Because no one could buy or sell without the mark of the beast. A human number. Emperor Nero.

Roman inscription. Villajoyosa, Spain.

A History That Lingers

In Villajoyosa, centuries of history weigh upon you. Like the tale of the womenfolk throwing stones at Moorish corsairs—they saved the town. Spanish women have always saved the day. Because Spain is a woman, and the men have to fight bulls to prove their manhood—or run from them up in Pamplona.

Palms & Beach. Villajoyosa, Spain. Pic by Max Milano

There’s a Roman shipwreck out in the bay. It’s full of amphorae carrying oil and wine to Ostia. But it didn’t make it. Now it lies dormant in the silt, like the other Roman ruins dotting the town. Waiting for the next Airbnb to slap on a coat of paint and advertise to Dutch tourists. Because money must be made. God forbid the Dutch stay in hotels. Benidorm doesn’t lack hotel rooms, but no. Let’s buy out the old fogeys because the Instagram generation demands “authentic experiences.” But without the old fogeys, though, all you get are other Instagrammers taking pictures of themselves. Navel gazing all the way down.

The Romans are gone, but not forgotten. The Moors left their legacy. And now the guiris nibble at the soul of your old town, oh village of joy.

Jamon Ibericos and locals at the Villajoyosa Market. Pic by Max Milano

At least the market is still full of crusty locals eating grilled sardines and drinking wine, just as God intended. Not on the beach—that’s been sold to the guiris—but farther inland. A few blocks uphill. Where the crust thrives, the paint flakes, and the real Spain endures. As long as there’s a Spain, there will be old fogeys with wool caps, drinking wine and eating sardines. They are the soul of Villajoyosa. Where history, life, and joy intertwine. For now. Until everything is an AirBnb and gets closed down for the winter. But for now, the village of joy thrives. For now. Like it always has. Since the Romans and the moors and the Phoenicians. It handled all of them, what’s a few Dutch and capitalism gone mad going to do? Viva the village of joy. Villajoyosa.

Stay tuned to GuiriGuru for more Spain explorations and expat travel tips and stories.

Max Milano is a travel writer, beat poet, and photographer based in Los Angeles, California, and Valencia, Spain. He is the author of Daughter of Recoleta and Hollywood Expats. His latest photography and beat poetry book, Mexico City Noir, Life Under The Volcanoes, is Available on Amazon. Bookings and Prints of his photographs are available at MaxMilanoPix.

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