The entrance to the driveway of our house (which is a big Bond-villain motorized sliding wooden gate) is at the end of a twisty dirt road. The other end of the road opens onto CV735, which for us is the mother-road: go left, you’re heading to Javea (aka Xabia); go right, you’re heading to Denia; cross the road and you’re only a short hop to Jesus Pobre, the nearest and smallest outpost of civilization.
We’re about equidistant from Javea and Denia as the crow flies but the 10-minute trip into Javea is much simpler so we go there much more often. There are three different points we head to.
First is the big underground parking lot at the edge of the old city, convenient to the Municipal Market, the Saturday outdoor market and the better, often fancy-shmancy, restaurants (When we told the pharmacist we ate at one, he shook his head like we were pathetic). We also were directed yesterday to a very appealing looking butcher shop only a block or two away.
Second is to the parking lot adjacent to the gravel beach and the docks. This is also where the fish market is. It’s lined with restaurants which appear to be of variable quality. We found one that’s very good, Tasca Port, and we usually go there when we’re in that area (Their frittura, the fried fish plate, always has red mullet [salmonete en Español] and I love that).
Third is Platja de la Arenal which is a sandy beach and where parking is a little trickier. There’s a long promenade that runs along the beach, bordered by the kind of restaurants, ice cream shops, beachwear and beach toys and casual clothes stores like you might find in any beach town the world over. Again, we have a fave, Posidona, that’s our go to eatery there.
Most restaurants throughout the area have outdoor space, whether a terrace or an inner courtyard, a glassless open front or a few tables in the street. This has allowed us to bring along Melech the dog (usually referred to as Mel) whenever we go out to eat. I was against it initially. We have a big house, Mel’s perfectly comfortable in it and there’s no reason we need to deal with him wherever we go. Jolean prevailed in that controversy.
One problem, though, is that dogs are not permitted on the beach. Now, I like the water, I like the waves but I’m not crazy about sand or gravel. For me, if there was asphalt up to the water’s edge, that would be an improvement. Jolean, however, who spent her summers on Nantucket growing up, loves the beach. She loves salt water. It’s what she loves best.
So she goes on the beach and I stay on the promenade walking Mel. It’s not an arrangement that pleases me.
Another factor in plan-making we have not yet mastered is siesta. Most retail locations close for siesta but exactly when and for how long is particular to each establishment. Although the Municipal Market is open until 8:00PM, the butchers, fruiterers and fishmongers there shut down at 1:00PM and they’re done for the day (the tapas bars and beer and cocktail bars are open all day but we’re not permitted to bring Mel inside).
The Butcher in town closes at 1:30 also and then reopens from 5:00 to 8:00. The dog-friendly pharmacy across the plaza from the market closes at 1:00 and reopens at 4:00. The fish market opens for one hour, more or less (depending on how quickly the day’s catch is sold), at 11:00 and 4:00. The Saturday outdoors market in Javea (and the Sunday market in Jesus Pobre) is open all day but only a couple of stalls have fruit. Most sell cheap clothing and tchotchkes (Jesus Pobre’s market has lots of baked goods, cheese, charcuterie and olives, a little fruit but no butcher or fishmonger).
The restaurants open at 1:00 and accept diners until 3:00, close at 5:00 and reopen at 8:00 and take reservations, usually, until 10:30. The bodegas, which are taverns that serve tapas and full meals, generally are open from noon until midnight (although not everyday) and don’t take reservations.
Things move slow. They pause. A meal lasts hours and is followed by a nap. I’m still living by the New York minute. But I’m adjusting.
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