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In the narrow streets of Xàbia’s old town, where white façades reflect the sunlight and orange trees hang heavy with fruit, something suddenly caught my eye: the town sign had been defaced. ‘Jávea’ was still faintly visible underneath, but someone had struck through it with thick black paint. A few houses down, a banner hung from a balcony: “Esta casa diu sí al valencià.” This house says yes to Valencian. […]
Last week, as I strolled through the village market in Teulada, I saw it happen: an older woman with a cloth bag and a critical eye held up a courgette as if she were inspecting a diamond. She turned it in the light, gave it a gentle squeeze, sniffed it, and finally nodded approvingly at the market vendor. He smiled. “Muy buena esta semana”, he said. And she paid — […]
It started with an elbow to the ribs. Not mine. I was innocently walking down a narrow street in Dénia, thinking I had just enough space to pass someone. But the people in front of me weren’t moving. We’re in Spain, so they’re strolling. In waves. No straight line, no rhythm, no clear tempo. When I tried to move left, a lady in a polyester floral dress swung her arm […]
Cruces de Mayo? Honestly? I first thought it was a wedding. Or a local procession. Or maybe a school project with a slightly overenthusiastic flower budget. A friend had invited me for a few days in Córdoba. “Just a little spring getaway,” she said. I had no idea that, last week, just before Mother’s Day, I’d end up right in the middle of a floral cross. Decorated with ribbons, candles, […]
If you’d asked me a few years ago what I associated with Easter, I probably would’ve mumbled something about chocolate eggs, brunch at my parents’ place, and maybe a trip to IKEA on Easter Monday. But since moving to Spain, Easter has become something entirely different. Here, Semana Santa doesn’t start with bunnies — it starts with drums. Big ones. The kind you feel pounding in your chest. Semana Santa […]
If you, like me, often find yourself wandering around the Costa Blanca, you’ve probably noticed them too: those charming whitewashed villages with, towering above them all… a striking blue dome. One of those features that makes you think: who ever decided that was a good idea? And why do you see so many of them here? So, here it is: the story of the blue domes of the Costa Blanca. […]
When I first moved to Spain, I genuinely thought my installer had passed away. Not because he was ill, but because he’d promised me three times that he’d come “mañana,” which I naively interpreted as “I’ll be there tomorrow.” Then he disappeared for four full days. No call, no message—nothing. I pictured the whole thing: grieving family, me at the doorstep with flowers. But on day five, he walked in […]
As you walk through Spanish cities, you’ll come across them everywhere: Calle Jaume I. It sounds grand — like a tribute to one of the greatest conquerors in Spanish history. But if you look more closely, you’ll notice that these street names are often not found in the most prestigious parts of town. Maybe it’s a form of historical irony: perhaps Jaume I was mostly the king of the backstreets? […]
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