Last year, Benidorm welcomed close to 3 million visitors. Despite its reputation as a British holiday mecca – nearly 900,000 UK travellers visited the city in 2024 – it was actually Spanish nationals who made up the largest share, with more than one million domestic visitors flocking to the Costa Blanca resort, according to Benidorm city council. I have a feeling that these visitors did not come for the stereotype of full English breakfasts and pub crawls, but for something often overlooked by international tourists: the authentic, everyday rhythm of Spanish coastal life.
Map for Benidorm
In a country where tourism makes up about 15% of GDP but has also spurred a housing shortage and countermovements, Benidorm offers a contrast to cities like Barcelona and Madrid, where tourism pressures are acute. The city’s mid-20th-century reinvention as a purpose-built resort might once have been controversial, but today it looks surprisingly sustainable in the context of a national housing emergency.
Benidorm was designed and built to handle industrial numbers of visitors – including me. My first visit was in the early 1990s, aged eight, on a classic package holiday with my family. I vividly remember staying up late to play billiards with a rotating cast of kids, and language barriers didn’t matter. Their mothers – and what felt like every other señora in our 20-storey hotel – took turns pinching my cheeks.
The city’s reinvention as a purpose-built resort now looks sustainable in the context of a national housing emergency
The coastal city has long accommodated large numbers of domestic and international travellers without displacing residents at the same rate as elsewhere. Unlike the “live like a local” model that has backfired in Spain’s big cities – such that more and more apartments once meant for residents are now exclusively for tourist use, especially in Madrid, where I’ve lived for 12 years – Benidorm has absorbed demand with ease while still offering an authentic Spanish experience. I’m here to explore exactly that.
Before the sun has fully risen, I walk to Poniente beach, the quieter, more local stretch just west of the old town. It is already full of life. A dozen elderly señores are taking a refreshing, pre-breakfast dip and a group of señoras are easing into the day with a free session of group yoga. As the weather heats up, the Spanish crowd moves away from the main beach to the nearby Cala Almadraba or, further along, to Cala del Tío Ximo. In these two secluded coves beyond the headland, pine trees frame crystal-clear shallows. Even in peak season, these smaller spots remain largely undiscovered by foreign visitors.
Cala Almadraba. Photograph: Alamy
By the time the sun is at its highest, many Spaniards are already retreating to long lunches of local cuisine. At La Fava, I find a serene space where chef Fran Burgos serves elegant dishes rooted in Alicante’s coastal traditions – such as grilled aubergine with honeycomb, parmesan soup and seasonal fish – in a tranquil, whitewashed interior. For a classic Iberian diner, Casa Toni boasts Andalusian tiles and legs of jamón hanging above the bar. For paella, a must in the Valencia region, refined seafood restaurant Ducado has an array of rice dishes.
There’s room too for cross-cultural comforts. Ray’s 1, a longstanding British chippy run by a mother and daughter team (both called Teresa), earned a new Spanish fanbase when I wrote about it for Spain’s leading national newspaper, El País. Since then, Teresa senior tells me. they’ve had a regular flow of Spanish customers. Nearby, on my way to the ajuntament (town hall), I spot a queue outside Bar El Puente, a chicken rotisserie run by the same family since 1968 and attracting a mostly Spanish clientele.
Local social documentary photographer María Moldes captures the city’s idiosyncrasies through saturated, surreal portraits of Spanish sunbathers. Photograph: María Moldes
Anyone who has visited Benidorm will be familiar with Calle Santo Domingo, a pedestrianised alley in the old town. Here, a global clientele are drawn to the bustling Basque pintxo bars, especially in the evening. But farther inland lies a no-frills and more authentically Spanish tapas destination, just off Avenida Ruzafa. I squeeze into Taperia La Mina, where a bottle of house wine and six tapas costs €11. Restaurant Aitona and El Rincón de La Croqueta offer an equally simple experience. For a slightly quieter but still lively meal, La Mejillonera is known for its large plates of juicy orange mussels, and is worth the wait for a table.
But beyond sun, sea and food, Benidorm is a real Spanish city with real stories. For example, Marina Sanchis opened Casa Cremà, a pottery workshop for locals and visitors alike, having returned to her home town after being forced out of Madrid by soaring rents, and has turned her creative retreat into a thriving community space. She tells me Benidorm has given her something she’d lost in the capital: space, time, and a connection to community.
Spanish culture, local gastronomy and a deeper sense of place – this is the side of Benidorm that is enjoyed by more than 1 million domestic visitors each year
Many more Spanish artists have been inspired by the coastal metropolis, and their work has featured in the free and often overlooked Museo Boca del Calvari in the old town. María Moldes, who exhibited there a few years ago, is a local social documentary photographer whose photos of Benidorm echo the works of the late Carlos Pérez Siquier. Both photographers capture the city’s idiosyncrasies through saturated, surreal portraits of Spanish sunbathers. Despite being taken decades apart, their images are almost indistinguishable.
La Fava restaurant
Even online, Benidorm has become something of a Spanish cult favourite. Erik Harley, a satirical influencer from Barcelona, tells me that Benidorm is his favourite place in the universe and he will soon be launching new tours of the city’s most iconic skyscrapers. And then there’s Mulero Ok, as he’s known here, a smartly dressed pensioner whose niche is playing Spanish pop music on his speaker and filming passersby dancing alongside his decorated, slow-gliding mobility scooter.
Among Spanish youth, the city’s cultural relevance is also on the rise. Benidorm Fest is Spain’s official competition to choose its Eurovision entry. Unlike the UK’s often half-hearted approach to the contest, Spain makes a big deal of the selection process and I regularly hear Melody’s Esa Diva, which was chosen as Spain’s entry this year, playing on the radio and in bars. Still only in its third year, the festival has become a defining highlight of the city’s cultural calendar, earning Benidorm a new identity as the country’s unofficial capital of pop.
Beyond the bustle of Benidorm, the nearby area is home to several charming villages that make for a perfect day trip, such as the colourful coastal town of La Vila Joiosa, a short tram ride away. Inland, the ancient hilltop village of El Castell de Guadalest is home to no fewer than eight eclectic museums and boasts stunning views of the Guadalest reservoir – one of Benidorm’s main sources of fresh water.
Benidorm wears its tourist-resort reputation with pride, but it offers far more than the stereotypes suggest. As a Brit abroad occasionally longing for home, I’m not going to deny that the British stereotype of Benidorm has its appeal for me. But I’m also here for what has become even more familiar to me: Spanish culture, local gastronomy and a deeper sense of place – the side of Benidorm that is enjoyed by more than 1 million domestic visitors each year.
In a country grappling with overtourism, Benidorm’s purpose-built design shouldn’t be dismissed as inauthentic. It’s a uniquely Spanish solution to a modern global challenge – and a city with space for everyone.