Gandia

The morning train from Valencia pulls into Gandia station at 9:47, and something shifts. The carriage empties of commuters clutching takeaway coffees, replaced by elderly women with wheeled shopping baskets and teenagers speaking rapid Valenciano. Outside, the air carries both salt and citrus—proof that this city of 80,000 lives with one foot in the Mediterranean and the other in the orange groves of la Safor.

The Borja Legacy

Gandia's historic centre doesn't announce itself with fanfare. Instead, it reveals its stories gradually through stone carvings and shadowed courtyards. The Palacio Ducal de los Borja stands at the heart of this narrative, its honey-coloured façade giving little away about the Renaissance splendour within. Inside, the Patio de las Dos Aguas sets the tone: Islamic-influenced geometric patterns overhead, Gothic arches framing the space, and azulejo tiles that have survived five centuries of Valencian summers.

The palace charts the rise of the Borja family—Spanish nobility who produced two popes and a saint. San Francisco de Borja, the third Duke of Gandia, renounced his titles to become a Jesuit, and his former chambers now house religious art that speaks of both worldly power and spiritual transformation. Entry costs €6, but check times carefully: the palace closes for siesta between 1:30 and 3 pm, a rhythm that still governs Gandian life.

Two minutes' walk away, the Colegiata de Santa María dominates its square with architectural schizophrenia. The original Gothic structure, built when Gandia was merely a medieval market town, peers out from behind a Baroque facelift added during the city's 18th-century sugar boom. The contrast works—like seeing someone's character in their eyes despite cosmetic changes.

Sea and City

The relationship between historic Gandia and its beach settlement feels almost Nordic in its clarity. The city proper handles commerce, education and daily life; Playa de Gandia, five kilometres east, deals in sand, seafood and summer hedonism. A regular bus service connects the two worlds, though having wheels helps if you're staying beyond July.

The beach itself stretches for seven kilometres of fine golden sand, cleaned daily and patrolled by lifeguards during high season. British visitors often express surprise at its relative emptiness compared to Benidorm or Torrevieja. Even in August, walk ten minutes north from the main access points and you'll find space to lay your towel without playing sardines. The promenade offers the usual Spanish seaside parade—chiringuito bars serving cold beer and grilled cuttlefish, children learning to cycle, elderly couples maintaining their evening constitutionals.

But come October, the seasonal exodus happens fast. Beach restaurants shutter, sunbeds stack up, and the promenade returns to locals walking dogs and British winter residents in fleeces. It's a different place entirely—quieter, yes, but somehow more honest about what life here actually entails.

Mountain Weather

Drive inland for fifteen minutes and everything changes. The road to Castell de Bairén climbs through orange groves that give way to pine forest, the temperature dropping noticeably with each hairpin bend. The castle itself stands in ruins, but the 360-degree view justifies the schlep: the fertile plain of la Safor spreads below like a green chessboard, the Mediterranean glinting beyond, and on clear days you can spot the skyscrapers of Valencia.

The hike takes ninety minutes round-trip on a rough path—proper footwear essential, water non-negotiable. Summer ascents demand early starts; by 11 am the stone path radiates heat like a pizza oven. Winter walks offer different rewards: wild rosemary scents the air, and you might have the views to yourself save for the occasional mountain biker.

Rice and Reality

Gandia's restaurants don't do fusion or deconstruction. They do rice, and they do it exceptionally well. The local variant of paella includes beans and meat rather than seafood—a nod to the city's agricultural hinterland. Arroz al horno arrives in earthenware dishes, the rice baked with pork, chickpeas and morcilla (blood pudding that tastes better than it translates).

For the rice-averse, fideuà provides a gentle introduction—short pasta noodles cooked paella-style with seafood, easier on the palate for British visitors still adjusting to Spanish textures. Grilled cuttlefish appears on most menus; think calamari's more sophisticated cousin, tender when fresh, rubber when not.

Menu del día offerings run €10-12 including wine—quality local cooking at prices that make British diners check the bill twice. One couple reported feeding four adults with wine and coffee for €34 total, noting they'd pay more for a pub lunch back home.

Practical Matters

The train from Valencia costs €8.35 return and takes 55 minutes through rice fields and citrus orchards. Services run every half-hour during peak times, making Gandia an easy base for exploring the region without city-centre prices.

Driving presents its own challenges. The historic centre operates a complex system of restricted access; ignore the signs and you'll find yourself squeezed down medieval alleys designed for donkeys, not Renaults. Park at the train station car park (free) and walk ten minutes instead.

Accommodation splits between city hotels and beach apartments. City stays offer better value and authentic atmosphere; beach options provide sea views and easier sand access. Summer bookings essential, winter visitors can afford to be spontaneous.

The Unvarnished Truth

Gandia won't suit everyone. English remains limited outside tourist areas—basic Spanish helps enormously, though Valenciano adds another linguistic layer. August brings crowds and noise; the beach bars pump music until 4 am, and finding parking becomes a blood sport. Some British visitors miss the familiar pub culture; Gandia offers Spanish bars serving Spanish food to Spanish people, refreshingly free of full English breakfasts and karaoke nights.

Yet these same qualities attract others. The city functions as a working place rather than a theme park, where daily life continues regardless of tourist whims. Prices stay reasonable because locals need to eat too. The beach stays clean because residents use it year-round. The historic centre maintains its dignity because real people live and work there.

Come in May or October for the best balance—warm enough for beach days, cool enough for castle climbs, with festivals adding colour but not chaos. Bring comfortable shoes, an appetite for rice, and enough Spanish to say please and thank you. Gandia will do the rest, no castanets required.