Senija

The church bell strikes seven and the only other sound is the scrape of a metal shutter going up. Someone's opening the bakery on Carrer Major, but only just. Senija doesn't do early starts, even when the February almond blossom turns the surrounding terraces into a froth of white and pink. This is rural Alicante province at its most undramatic: a grid of stone houses, 670 inhabitants, and a view that stretches clear to the Mediterranean fifteen kilometres away.

At 234 metres above sea level, the village sits high enough to catch the breeze but low enough to avoid the worst mountain chills. The result is a climate that feels neither coastal nor alpine. Winter mornings can dip to 4 °C; August afternoons regularly top 34 °C. The difference is the humidity—there isn't any—so 34 °C here feels like 28 °C on the beach. British visitors who know the sticky heat of Valencia city notice the change the moment they step out of the car.

What passes for a centre

The Plaza de la Iglesia measures barely forty metres across, yet it still manages to house the only bar that stays open year-round, the ajuntament, and an 18th-century church whose bell tower leans two degrees west. Inside, the baroque altarpiece is flanked by dusty standards carried during Franco's victory parade in 1939. Nobody seems sure whether they stay up through nostalgia or indifference; ask and the reply is a shrug that could mean either.

Outside, the village's self-declared "Museu d'Art al Carrer" begins. Twenty-five murals, each the size of a garage door, decorate gable ends and former stable walls. They were painted by fine-art graduates from Altea during three summer residencies. Subjects range from an oversized almond flower to a sepia portrait of the last muleteer. Instagram likes them; locals ignore them. Together they take twenty minutes to walk round, thirty if you stop to read the Valencian captions that nobody has translated.

Eating, or not

Food is where Senija's size becomes a problem. There is no hotel, no daily restaurant, and only one bakery. Thursday night in July or August you might catch a paella contest in the square—locals bring their own pans, the council provides gas rings—but turn up in November and the only hot meal is whatever the bar fries on its single-ring burner. The menu is short: toast with crushed tomato, a slab of tortilla, or a bowl of puchero con pelotas, the latter served only if the owner's mother has made the meatballs that morning.

Drive seven minutes down the CV-745 to Benissa and the picture changes. Mercadona, Aldi, and a row of ventas offering three-course lunches for €12. Most Senijeros do exactly that, which is why the village itself stays so quiet. Self-caterers should stock up en route; the nearest cash machine is also in Benissa and the village bakery is card-only when the terminal feels like working.

Walking without way-markers

Senija's best asset is the network of dry-stone paths that radiate into the almond terraces. None are graded; all are obvious. Park on the ring-road (the old centre is a rat-run of one-way alleys barely wider than a Fiesta) and head uphill past the last house. Within five minutes the tarmac gives way to packed clay and the only traffic is the occasional retired Brit walking a rescued podenco. The ridge directly north climbs 150 metres in two kilometres—enough to open a view that takes in the whole Gulf of Valencia on clear days. After rain the clay turns slick; trainers suffice in dry weather, but proper boots are wise between October and April.

Spring brings the blossom, autumn brings the smell of crushed almonds from the cooperative in Parcent three kilometres away. Summer walks demand an early start: by eleven the sun has baked the terraces hard and shade is theoretical. A litre of water per person is the minimum; there are no fountains once you leave the village.

When the village wakes up

For three days at the end of April, Senija stages its annual bou embolat—loosely, "bull with fireworks attached". The event is exactly as medieval as it sounds: a small bullring in the car park, a steer with harmless firecrackers on its horns, and a crowd of locals who've been up since the 6 a.m. despertà when brass bands march through the streets chucking bangers outside bedroom windows. Tourists are welcome but rare; the last British family who booked an Airbnb for the fiesta left after the first night, complaining about the noise. Ear-plugs are advised; expecting sleep is optimistic.

The quieter patronal fiesta in late June is more digestible. Evening mass under the orange trees, a communal paella for 200 people (tickets €5 from the bar), and a disco that finishes at 1 a.m. because the mayor has to open the bakery at seven. August adds a series of free concerts every Thursday night: Valencian folk, a Queen tribute band, and one evening of saxophone-led hymns that nobody can explain. Bring your own chair; there are no rented seats and the stone steps get hard after an hour.

Getting here, getting away

Alicante airport is 85 km south: exit the A-7 at Benissa, follow the CV-750 for twelve minutes, and the village appears on a spur to your left. Valencia airport is 120 km north but the AP-7 toll adds €16 each way; factor that into car-hire maths. There is no bus. A taxi from Benissa station costs €18 and the driver will complain about the hill. Most visitors hire a car at the airport and keep it for the stay; petrol is currently €1.62 a litre, cheaper than the UK but not by much.

Roads are empty outside August; in high summer you will meet Dutch motorhomes on every bend. The CV-745 from Benissa is wide enough for two coaches to pass, but the final kilometre into Senija narrows to single track with stone walls. Meet a delivery van here and someone has to reverse 200 metres. The bakery van wins; you don't.

Worth the detour?

Senija will never compete with the cathedral cities or the coastal resorts. It offers half a day of gentle strolling, a handful of decent murals, and the chance to sit in a plaza where nobody is selling you anything. Come for the blossom in February, for a Thursday concert in August, or simply to break the drive between Alicante and Valencia. Arrive expecting tapas trails and boutique hotels and you will leave within an hour. Arrive with a baguette, a bottle of water, and curiosity about how Valencian villagers actually live, and Senija repays the effort—quietly, without fuss, and long before the church bell strikes eight.