From an overnighter to a trip throughout spain — or: how a simple plan derailed in the most predictable way possible

The Plan

The plan was elegant in its simplicity: visit my friend Laszlo in Altea, Spain. Get hugs. Get some skin-work done. Maybe cry a little. The usual.

Now, a normal person would fly from Lisbon to Alicante. Two hours, done, sorted. But I am not a normal person. I am a person who looked at a map and thought, “You know what would be fun? Trains.”

See Spain from the ground, I told myself. Absorb the culture. Watch the landscape change. Romantic, really — in the way that only someone who hasn’t yet sat on a Spanish regional train for six hours can be romantic about it.

The itinerary: Uber to Tavira. Bus to Sevilla. Sleep. Train to Madrid. Train to Alicante. Then somehow get to Benidorm. A plan so watertight it could survive exactly zero contact with reality.

And reality arrived promptly — in the form of a friend from Pomar Coliving who happened to be in Sevilla at the exact same time. Coincidence? Is the universe having a laugh? Either way, I pestered her long enough that she reluctantly agreed to let me crash on her Airbnb couch. I believe the exact words were “fine, just stop talking.”

Spoiler: a 2-day road trip turned into… more than that. Just a bit more.

Sevilla

Having successfully folded myself onto the aforementioned couch like an oversized piece of IKEA furniture, I had a revelation: why rush?

So we upgraded to a bigger Airbnb — because nothing says “spontaneous” like immediately increasing your accommodation budget — and I stayed for a couple of days. The logic was bulletproof: I’m already here, the city exists, and my train ticket to Madrid isn’t going to judge me. Probably.

So we explored. As one does when one’s carefully crafted itinerary has already been set on fire.

We also experienced the annual Semana Santa, which — based on the breathless hype from friends — was going to be a life-altering spiritual experience. It was fine. Perfectly fine. The kind of “fine” where you nod respectfully and then Google “is Semana Santa always like this” on your phone under the table.

But the city itself? Brilliant. Here’s what a few days in Sevilla taught me:

• The tapas culture is genuinely magnificent. You order a beer, and food would appear. Not free. But part of the deal.
• The best local food is in the Triana district. Go there. Eat everything. Ask no questions.
• If you need a running route, just cross every bridge in the city. You’ll see the whole place and feel virtuous enough to justify the next round of tapas.
• Spain’s oldest pub, El Rinconcillo, operates a strict two-tier system: the bar section, where you can walk in looking like you just lost a fight with a washing machine, and the fine dining area, which requires a reservation and at least a passing familiarity with an iron.

Madrid

After 4 nights in Sevilla — roughly 3.5 more than originally planned, for those keeping score — it was time to actually reach my destination. But every high-speed train in Spain apparently routes through Madrid, so I “sadly” had to stop there as well. Devastating.

The train ride was a revelation. I knew Spain as “that dry, hot country in the south of Europe,” which is a bit like knowing a person only from their LinkedIn photo. Between Sevilla and Madrid there are forests, wetlands, rolling green hills — Spain is quietly, unexpectedly beautiful when you bother to look at it from ground level instead of 35,000 feet.

I had a 4-hour layover in Madrid and needed to switch stations, so naturally I walked it. Through the city. With luggage. Like an idiot who thinks that counts as sightseeing.

And what surprised me most wasn’t the rich culture, the busy streets, or the mild climate. It was the hills. Madrid has hills the way London has pubs — everywhere, relentless, and just when you think you’ve seen the last one, there’s another. My calves still haven’t forgiven me.

Benidorm and Altea

Finally: Benidorm and Altea. Let’s cut to the chase — you need to stay in Benidorm at least once, if only to fully appreciate why you’ll pay extra to avoid it next time.

Benidorm has about 7,000 permanent residents. It also has roughly half a million tourists at any given moment, which gives it the atmosphere of a theme park that forgot to install rides and just went all-in on bars and sunburn.

It’s a lot. But it’s also a lot of fun if you come for that. If you’re looking for quiet contemplation, I’d suggest literally anywhere else on the Mediterranean coastline.

I stayed for another 4 days, which was perfectly fine — I was busy shuttling over to Altea to let Laszlo work on my skin. A sentence that sounds far more sinister out of context than it actually is.

In between sessions, I enjoyed Benidorm’s genuinely beautiful promenade and surprisingly lovely beach. The trick is to get there before 7 in the morning, because by 7:01 it looks like the entire population of Northern Europe has simultaneously decided to claim a sun lounger.