I awoke bright and early to be greeted by my first taste of that famous Spanish sun. I was feeling excited; the orange juice in the hostel continental breakfast carried a distinct aftertaste of adventure and I had a whole month ahead of me to explore Spain on my two-wheeled escapade. I was slap-bang on the Costa Blanca, and my first day of cycling would lead me to, of all places, Benidorm. 

After some coastal miles and a few mechanicals under my belt, I was well on the way. The Costa Blanca was absolutely beautiful on a mild (Spanish) Winter’s day and the wind was decisively urging me towards my destination. 

As I got closer, I crested a hill and was greeted by the imposing Benidorm skyline, a cluster of high rise hotels jostling for prime position on an over-congested coastline. Despite being surrounded by fellow Brits, as I wound through the teeming, built-up streets of downtown Benidorm, I felt like more of an outsider than at any other point of my trip. In fairness, I was an atypical holidaymaker, swapping the all-inclusive for a piece of tarpaulin and a camping stove. The fruitless dings of my bicycle bell were greeted with jeers from large groups of lads and parents urgently pulling their children away from the two wheeled freak pedalling towards them. 

The weather was miserable, which contributed to the nagging feeling that I hadn’t actually left the UK at all. There were Brits everywhere (even the street signs were in English), but what really stood out were the countless British bars scattered throughout the city. You couldn’t turn a corner without seeing an ‘All you can eat Full-English buffet!‘ or a ‘Brian’s British Disco (classics only)‘.

In all honesty, I was feeling a little disheartened; I hadn’t spoken one word of Spanish and I had eaten more chips than churros. I wasn’t asking for much either, just to walk into a cafe and be greeted by an ‘hola’, rather than an ‘ey up’. I was itching to feel a sense of place and culture. I needn’t have worried. Little did I know that a love affair lay to my west in the towering mountains and moorish architecture of Andalusia. This magical region would satisfy my cultural cravings, bewitching me with its narrow, cobbled streets and free tapas with every beer. I just had to get there first.