If you walk along Alicante's Rambla — the main drag that divides the city centre from the narrow streets and alleys of its Old Town — you have a choice.
You could head into the centre where the price of a cup of coffee will almost halve. And you'll be able to hang out with the locals, do the things the locals do — 'live' as travel influencers are so fond of saying, 'like a local'. Or, you could follow the tourists carrying buckets and spades, wearing shorts in winter, as they traipse cheerfully down to the beach.
I know what I prefer. I lived in Alicante on and off for six years. When I go back, I do not have a craving to visit Mercadona — my old supermarket. I don't want to hang out, like a local, in Mango and Zara on the city's de facto high street, Maisonnave. I want to have an ice-cream at the beach, stroll the Old Town and climb up to the castle. Some 10 years after I left, I'm proud to reclaim the T-word. Done right, following a few simple rules, being a tourist on the Costa Blanca is still one of the most enjoyable things in the world.
This article first appeared in Which? Travel magazine. We don't accept freebies from travel companies, airlines, or hotels, so you can be sure that our investigations, recommendations, and reviews are completely unbiased.
Give the gift of knowing who to book with, how to find the best deals and inspiring destination ideas from the experts, all for just £34.30 a year.
Buy and saveExisting members can also enjoy a £15 voucher when purchasing a gift. Save 30% – was £49, now £34.30 for a year, offer ends 15 March 2026.
Let's start where I used to live, halfway down the Rambla. Wherever you stay in the city, you'll find yourself crossing this lively and, yes, touristy, thoroughfare. Behind me, as I look up at my old flat, is the Portal de Elche — the charming square — with its terrace bars shaded by giant, gnarled fig trees, where I met my now wife, almost 15 years ago. To our left, it's a five-minute walk to the glorious, temple-like Mercado Central, where I used to get intimidated by the rapid Spanish of the fruit and veg sellers and struggled to remember how to say 'can you descale that for me please?' at the fishmongers.
In front of us, down a shaded little alleyway, is El Barrio — literally the neighbourhood — where tapas bars and pubs crowd the maze of streets around the cathedral and, every weekend, you'll see Erasmus students, wild-eyed with joy at the price of the mojitos.
But it's Postiguet Beach, five minutes' walk from the bottom of the Rambla, where it's clearest that 'live like a local' makes no sense. It took marrying an Alicantina — an Alicante girl born and bred — to help me realise this. Tourists and locals want completely different things. My wife's family will happily take a paseo — an evening stroll — to Postiguet and back, beneath the palm trees of the pedestrianised Esplanade. But they would rarely — if ever — choose to lie down on its soft sand. For them, the city beach is a pleasant everyday backdrop, not somewhere you'd spend the afternoon.
But Postiguet is a dreamland if, as when I visit, it's a damp 13°C back in England and 26°C here. Alicante is the warmest place in mainland Spain during the winter. There's nothing better than being able to stroll out of a beautiful, Old Town hotel (see review) and in 10 minutes be floating on your back in the bay, looking up at Mount Benacantil and the Castle of Santa Barbara, the golden sandstone slopes turning pink and then red in the setting sun. I loved it when I lived here, and I love it now.
It's almost as good just to sit and look out over the waves with a coffee and a book at my favourite Postiguet café, Gomiz, beneath the shifting, dappled shade of swaying wicker baskets. My in-laws are understandably shocked by the price — €3.50 for a café con leche. At the café my father-in-law frequents, you'll get toast, an orange juice and a coffee for that. But his favourite place is 25 minutes from the sea, full of glaring fruit machines, and it doesn't have any windows. Call me a guiri — the mildly disparaging name for tourists —, but we don't have anything like Gomiz back where I live in Coventry. Yes, €3.50 is more than worth it.
All the stuff that I want to see and do in Alicante comes under the heading of 'touristy'. After the beach, we climb up to the castle, through Parque Ereta — the terraced hillside of Mount Benacantil with its shady olive, pomegranate and palm trees. When we reach the castle, huge and well-preserved with its sandstone walls, we head straight through the imposing gates — past the cannons and the graffiti scratched on the stone floor by Civil War prisoners — up to the sleek El Castillo café for a caña (a small glass of beer). From here we lean back and take in the whole coast, white pleasure boats gleaming in the marina next door, the long strip of San Juan beach stretching endlessly north.
Perhaps the reason why 'touristy' doesn't feel like a bad word here is that Alicante city still doesn't have anything like as many tourists as other parts of the province. Increasing visitor numbers have had a positive side. Alicante feels prosperous and booming. The number of bars and restaurants has exploded since I arrived in 2009. When I got here, the Taberna del Gourmet in the Old Town, where we descend for dinner, was fighting a lonely battle as one of the very few high-quality tapas places with a relaxed, informal style. Now there are loads of them. Yet, as we squeeze into the Taberna's lively back room for dinner, the ham croquettes, fabulously crunchy on the outside and meltingly soft in the middle, are as good as ever.
If you want to be a proper tourist, though, you can't just hang around in the province capital. We're on holiday. That's why, the next morning, my family and I are on a tram heading up the coast to a town that's been synonymous with British holidays since the 1970s — Benidorm.
I don't mind Benidorm. It's not that I want to stay here (don't worry, we're just changing trams), but it's done a sterling job of concentrating the worst excesses of the travel boom in a small, high-density place. The rest of the province — our real destination — is all the better for it. In our survey of the best Spanish seaside towns, four of the top 10 were in Alicante: the city itself, Moraira, Javea and Altea. The latter three are all on the northern side of Benidorm — greener, leafier and more mountainous than the south.
The small town of Altea avoided the mass tourism boom of the 70s and 80s — perhaps protected by its tourist-repelling pebble beach. Instead, it became the favourite of artists, drawn by the glorious light and its romantic cobbled streets.
The journey here by tram is slow — just over an hour — but lovely, clinging to the coast past San Juan, with 15 stops along its long stretch of sand, before the coast gets rockier and prettier. Altea is almost too perfect. As we climb the hill from the tram stop, we hear a Spanish guitar coming from behind cream shutters, as though we were in a Pedro Almodóvar film. Everything — even the cobbles laid out in artistic black and white swirls — has been perfectly curated for your dream holiday.
Coming out of the steep, narrow street into the main square at the top of the hill, we're hit by the pure light of the widening sky, views of the sea on two sides. Across a broad terrace, bar tables are laid out in front of Altea's most famous landmark — the Church of El Consuelo, with the glazed blue tiles of its dome gleaming in the warm sun. In its own way, Altea's Old Town is just as touristy as Benidorm — with its cute designer boutiques, crafts and ice-cream shops — but it's gorgeous, so who cares?
Javea, 45 minutes north of Altea, is another place that neatly sums up the difference between the things that locals want and the things that tourists want. The Old Town is up on a hill two kilometres from the sea — deliberately so. Centuries of piracy meant that a 'sea view' was likely to result in an unpleasantly close view of a cutlass or a musket. Instead, the locals wanted thick stone walls, a church — San Bartolomé — which is tough and rugged like a castle, and narrow, easily defended streets.
But we tourists crave sea views — even in winter — and so, in recent years, a new Javea has emerged. It clings lovingly to the Arenal — a crescent of sand backed with a strip of low-rise bars and restaurants. This is where we've chosen to stay at the Parador (see review).
From the Parador, it's a 20-minute walk to round the golden sands of Arenal Beach and get to the rocky coves that have made Javea famous. We start at Segon Muntanyer, which looks — with its pitted sandstone rock pools — like the aftermath of a volcanic explosion. In fact, the rocky surface — rough yet soft like pumice — is what remains of fossilised sand dunes.
Some 10 minutes further, and we reach Cala Blanca — named for the white pebbles that lie piled up against pale cliffs like so many marbles. My favourite beach, though, is La Caleta — where we walk through a natural sandstone archway — carved by the wind and waves — into a protected cove. Sunbathers dangle their feet in the water from a long finger of rock. We take advantage of the shady cliffs, unwrapping sandwiches and relaxing into the sounds of the gently splashing waves.
None of these coves ever appears on lists of Spain's greatest beaches. That honour goes to Granadella — 15 minutes' drive away. But Granadella has become the victim of its own shy beauty. Cars queue around the coastal road — especially in summer — to see the crystal waters of its once isolated bay.
I'm much happier in La Caleta, 40 minutes' walk from the Parador, having followed my first rule of being a good tourist. Avoid driving if you can. Head 10 minutes away from the nearest car park — here and anywhere — and you'll leave 90% of travellers well behind.
The second rule is controversial, but I think it's time to say it: never stay in an Airbnb. It was a fun idea at the time, but let's give the houses back to the people who want to live in them. Hotels are great.
Third — perhaps most importantly — never visit the Mediterranean in the summer. Even in January, if you fancy a dip, the water temperature in Alicante is like Brighton in June. OK, that's pretty chilly. But it's comfortable to swim here for around nine months of the year. In summer, almost everything I've described in this article would be impossible. You just can't walk around in the midday heat.
My final rule, though, is simple: don't be ashamed of being a tourist. The Costa Blanca practically invented modern tourism, and it's still brilliant at it. When I'm next back in Alicante, at Easter, you'll find me heading down the Rambla — ignoring the scornful glances of my in-laws at my guiri baseball cap and unfashionable shorts. Making my way back to the beach.
You can fly direct to Alicante from most UK airports with a whole range of airlines. The airport's a 15-minute drive from Alicante city centre, and the C6 bus runs regularly. Most guides will tell you to hire a car to get around the north of the province — but we did it on public transport, with a couple of short taxi rides. There are three buses a day to and from Javea and Alicante. The tram is a nice — and cheap — way to travel the coast. Get on at the Mercado Central, and it's just €1.45 to the beaches of San Juan or €3.90 to get all the way to Altea.
Unlike nearly all other travel magazines or newspaper travel sections, Which? does not accept free stays or any other free hospitality. These are the three hotels we stayed at. The price is for a night in a standard double room on a Saturday night in April, outside the school holidays, not including breakfast unless stated.
Hotel Boutique Alicante Palacete The view from our wrought-iron balcony was of the sheer wall of the cathedral. You can't get any more central than this elegantly reformed mansion house. Its original, sweeping staircase, rough stone walls and heavy beams provide old-style charm without frills. Skip the rip-off €15 breakfast, though. You can do better than its dry omelette and cold meats at any number of bars nearby.
Hotel Villa Gadea In August, you'd pay almost three times as much for this sprawling and luxurious five-star hotel as you would in low season. Just above a beach, five minutes' drive from Altea, it has an excellent spa (albeit €30 to use its saunas and baths), two outdoor pools and an indoor pool. Off-season, for just over €150, you can get a wonderful sea view (it's cheaper for mountain views) — and a bath with hydromassage jets.
Parador Javea The Parador chain never disappoints, and, although purpose-built in the 60s — rather than being one of the chain's historic mansions — this is the best place to stay in Javea if you want the beach. The design, all clay-red tiles and rough white walls, might take you back to 80s Spanish holidays, but the service and the fabulous breakfast are as good as anywhere. All rooms have a sea view.
If you're not tied to school holidays, don't book in advance. Travel in winter when it's much cheaper and less busy, and book with an eye on the weather. Wait for highs of 20°C plus, and last-minute bargain flights, and book. Don't come in the summer — or if the weather forecast is (unusually) for grey skies. Sunshine is a crucial part of the holiday.
