To cut right to the point, Whether you’re a die-hard sand-dodger or a flip-flop enthusiast, Alicante Beach is a sun-soaked paradise stretched along Spain’s southeast edge. Children chasing waves, sunbathers straying like sleeping cats, sellers screaming over baskets of cold watermelon hum the seafront here. A gaggle of gallivancing youngsters giggling over spilled mojitos is more likely than you would encounter a silver-haired couple slow dancing by the promenade.
People talk about the climate of Alicante the way others talk about their last delicious meal: respectfully, hungrily, maybe with nostalgia. Most days the sun shines with enough force to make sunscreen your buddy. But sometimes clouds pour in like unwelcome visitors at a picnic, giving the Mediterranean a melancholy blue.
The kind that slips into shoes and tracks you home like a tenacious puppy is fine, pale, and subtly heated sand. Weeks after leaving, I discovered Alicante Beach grains in my suitcase; a gritty reminder that Spain likes to stay. The sea here is the actual one; tones of blue and turquoise entwine together and shimmer like someone dropped a thousand sequins on the surface. While bolder folks paddle out, chasing waves and allowing salt crisp their hair, children with inflatable crocodiles splash near to shore.
Walking the boardwalk produces a live-action performance. Tattoos on bikes and sun-hated grandmothers mix Sarong vendors. In a few steps you could hear German, English, and Spanish all around. Beachfront chilinguitos carry the aroma of grilled sardines. Tables groan with paella, the saffron rice shimmering golden under a bright afternoon sun. Take a cold horchata; sweet, creamy, mixed with almond; this drink will deceive you into believing you are chewing sunshine.
Not less important are beach sports. Courts for volleyball thud with barefoot jumps. There is usually a sloppy game of paddleball when someone always splashes into the surf to get a stray ball. Keeping your eyes open will help you to see residents moving with a slow pace that indicates, “We have all day.” And they indeed do. Here the time yawns and expands.
If you’re ready to watch and wait, anecdotes abound. A small terrier in a red bow tie dashed between towels one morning, only stopping for a scratch from a sunbather with tattoos. These kind of events are the secret ingredient of Alicante Beach.
Beach bars come alive with fairy lights after dark. Guitars plucked next to low talks. People stay outdoors trading stories and clinking glasses. Ever patient, the water talks to stones while the moon hovers low, big and golden, over the sand.
Alicante Beach does not present perfection. It provides music off-key from a busker’s tattered guitar, ice cream that melts faster than you could eat, footprints the sea will wash by daybreak. Alicante creates memories salted as the air in those few moments of wild frenzy and laughter. And that’s actually better than any postcard.