Glimpses Of Life In Happy Town

Antonio is not having a good day, despite his smile.

“Today is not a good day. Already I have a broken ankle, and now the printer doesn’t work”, he explains, as I try to work out what the connection between the two events might be. 

Despite these things, Antonio quickly warms to the task of telling us about his town, becoming even more animated when we ask about restaurants. He grabs his pen and starts to draw circles and arrows on our town map.

“These restaurants in this road are very touristy”, he says, rather dismissively, “except this one” – he jots down the name – “and this one at the other end. And here”, he continues, with another circle, “is the best paella in town.”

He carries on with his passionate, incredibly helpful advice, from restaurants to supermarkets to beaches, including nudist beaches, and eventually the best coastal walk.

“This walk is so beautiful”, he says, “though maybe too hot just now. All along the edge of the cliff, above the clear sea, it is beautiful, then at the end, you can see the skyline of Benidorm. And believe me, the best way to see Benidorm is from a long way away”.

We laugh, Antonio joins in, and Michaela tells him she holidayed in Benidorm as a child. He goes just a little pensive.

“You know, fifty years ago, Benidorm was a paradise, now it is a concrete jungle full of people who do bad things. I don’t like it. You won’t like it either”

Well don’t worry, Antonio, your lovely little town is as close to Benidorm as we’re going to get.

Antonio’s town has two distinct names, or at least, two different versions of its name, which creates its own kind of havoc in our systematic travel records. It’s known as both Villajoyosa and La Vila Joiosa, both of which are used liberally around town, including by the local council. Now how am I going to know where to put that in our alphabetical lists?! Not since the Hania-Chania-Xania nonsense in Crete has my mojo been messed with this much. However, both names translate into English as “Joyous Town”, or, if you prefer, “Happy Town”. Apparently its people have a reputation for being among the happiest in Spain, which only makes us wonder which came first, the name or the demeanour.

On-line references to Villajoyosa refer to it as a former fishing village, but it’s quickly clear that there’s no real need to say “former” because the fishing fleet is still visibly active – although we guess it’s some time since it was truly a village. Stacked up on a hillside rising up from the beach, those houses which were once fishermen’s cottages are brightly coloured in different hues – originally, it seems, to guide the fishermen home, in the same style as Burano or villages on the coast of Ireland.

Soft sand beaches, rolling blue seas, palm trees, picturesque houses, and a small town with all amenities – this seems to us to be just about the perfect Mediterranean setting, yet unlike Peñiscola it’s definitely not overcrowded here, even in this last week of August. Additionally, Villajoyosa has a reputation for gastronomy, not just a host of quality restaurants but it’s also, we’re told, the home of the best chocolate in Spain. The happy people of Happy Town clearly have many reasons to be cheerful.

And they do indeed seem to be very cheerful. Waiters ask our names – and remember them – and welcome us back with big smiles when we’ve only called in for one beer previously. Even the girls on the supermarket tills are full of friendly smiles and chatter. During one meal, a rather well spoken English couple ask us what it’s like living in Villajoyosa; it seems that we are so deep in conversation with fellow diners (Spanish and Slovakian) and the waiter Mauricio (we remembered his name too) that the English couple have assumed that we are residents.

Whether or not you’re a fan of beaches, the main one here is pretty perfect. Wading out into the warm sea means, of course, removing my glasses, and consequently many things then become a bit of a blur. Today, suddenly, a distant figure manifests, seemingly walking on water. Is this a modern day miracle, I wonder? No, it’s just someone on a paddle board. And then I get to thinking, what if that was the explanation? What if Jesus had a paddle board?

There’s something endearingly indulgent about the happy people of Happy Town. If they’re not dancing to traditional music performed by a band on a temporary stage, they’re enjoying impromptu parties by the seafront or setting off fireworks which echo off the old houses like machine gun fire. There always seems to be laughter in the air.

Come Sunday afternoon, it’s time for a big water fight – whether this happens every week or today is a special occasion we have no idea, but a water tanker lorry with hoses attached parks in a cordoned off area at the seafront and huge numbers of people fill buckets, bottles and anything else they can find and hurl soakings over each other until the tanker lorry finally runs dry. Any unsuspecting visitor who strays into the designated area immediately becomes fair game – we watch one guy, fully clothed and carrying a small but obviously full backpack, do precisely this and get drenched. He is visibly angry, which just encourages the locals to give him and his baggage a second dousing. More fool him for hurdling the cordon. He complains to the attendant police, who simply laugh at his misadventure. As does everyone else.

Laughter, as we say, seems to be an ever present amongst the folk of Happy Town. Restaurants are busy, convivial places, and we often find ourselves joining in mixed language conversations with those at adjoining tables. It’s that kind of place.

Of course, we try out Antonio’s recommended paella restaurant, a visit which just goes to prove that all such things are subjective: the food is incredibly salty, far too much so to be the best paella we’ve had on this trip, an accolade which currently sits with a joint back in the square in Tarragona. Nevertheless, Happy Town’s reputation is well founded: we enjoy some excellent food here at very reasonable prices. You don’t need a big budget to be happy in Happy Town.

After several very hot days, Sunday brings an uncharacteristically cooling wind and the occasional splash of rain. A couple of mini twisters whip across the beach sending parasols, inflatables and even chairs spinning out across the waves or backwards up the beach. We learn later that the lightning storm which we can see towards the horizon has hit Mallorca with some venom.

It soon clears from Happy Town and by late afternoon the horizon has returned to its usual perfectly defined self; a while later the moonshine creates a beautiful V-shaped silver pathway across the black waters.

We’ve loved it here in Happy Town and could very easily earmark this place as somewhere to return to any time we feel like a quick Mediterranean fix. It ticks an awful lot of our boxes, including the one which says “use your whole 90-day EU permit and spend some serious time here”. It’s so easy to get to, too: the Alicante tram system runs all the way along the coast to Benidorm, stopping twice in Happy Town as it passes through. A couple of times I catch Michaela looking through the windows of real estate offices eyeing up larger apartments for future reference. I think she likes it here.

In fact it’s not without a touch of sadness that we hand the keys back to Antonio.

“You like my Happy Town?”, he asks.

We love it, Antonio. We definitely hope to return. Adios.

“And did you love the chocolate?”

Oh dammit, I knew there was something we’d forgotten….