By Max Milano (Travel Writer and Photographer)
Roadtripping 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 like Alicante and Benidorm. But do yourself a favor and 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. Still beautiful and authentic despite strong gentrification, and still the real deal, for now.
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. When 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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, 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.
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 still 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, 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.
Villajoyosa
A Beat Poem by Max Milano
Oh, City Of Joy
Villajoyosa
Tus Casas hermosas
Your houses are jewels
For the brochures
Old fogey so friendly
But where are his neighbors?
The hordes come from the north
They followed the Romans
amphorae and Latin rocks
lie under your floorboards
but how long the old fogeys
will have their own homes
Before the airlocks
Sell it all for summer?
Stay tuned to GuiriGuru for more Spain explorations and expat tips.
Max Milano is a travel writer and photographer based in Los Angeles, California, and Valencia, Spain. His latest photography book, Mexico City Noir, Life Under The Volcanoes, is Available on Amazon. His photographs are available at MaxMilanoPix.
