It’s Marta here—first official blog entry of Moving East. If you’re here, welcome. If you’re already shaking your head at the thought of another couple diving headfirst into the Spanish property dream, well… fair enough. But here we are anyway, swapping Devon drizzle for Costa Blanca sunshine. For some of the year, at least.
This whole thing started, like most big life decisions do, over a mediocre bottle of Rioja. I’d like to tell you it was one of those deep, soulful conversations where we suddenly knew our destiny. It wasn’t. It was more like me shoving my phone under Bryan’s nose, saying, Look at this one, while he squinted at a villa listing between mouthfuls of leftover lasagna.
“It’s nice,” he said, in that deeply unenthusiastic way that makes me want to throw things. Then, predictably, he followed up with: “But what about taxes? Maintenance? A decent curry house nearby?”
And so began our next great marital debate: my enthusiasm vs. his overthinking. Spoiler: I won. (It helped that his uncle’s inheritance was burning a hole in his pocket.)
Why Denia?
Out of all the places in Spain, why Denia? Simple. It’s got everything. Long beaches, a marina that makes you want to own a boat (we won’t), and a castle that gives it just the right amount of ancient charm without feeling like a history lesson. The food? Ridiculous. Denia is literally a UNESCO Creative City of Gastronomy, which is a fancy way of saying they take their paella very seriously.
For me, it’s also home. Well, kind of. Close enough that my family can visit easily. Not so close that my mum will be popping in unannounced every other morning. Balance.
Bryan, ever the practical one, loves the hiking trails. He fancies himself an amateur photographer, and Montgó—the massive mountain looming over the town—is his new muse. The kids? Anna wants “character” (she has no idea what that actually means) and Luke just wants really fast Wi-Fi.
The Plan (Or Lack of One)
We agreed on a rough outline:
- Four bedrooms – Bryan insists we need space for guests.
- A pool – My non-negotiable.
- Within budget – Bryan’s non-negotiable. (Which, let’s be honest, we’ll push a little.)
Then came the online property search. Fueled by caffeine (coffee for me, tea for Bryan), we fell into a deep rabbit hole of villa listings. Some looked promising. Others… not so much. Let’s just say “sea view” is a very generous term in some of these ads. If you have to lean out of an attic window with binoculars to spot the water, it does not count.
First Viewing: Reality Hits Hard
Our first in-person viewing? A learning experience. The photos had screamed Mediterranean dream. The reality? DIY disaster.
The pool, which had sparkled in the pictures, was actually swamp-green. The so-called “spacious garden” looked like it needed a full-time gardener and a machete. Bryan tapped a wall, then turned to me and muttered, Hollow. Not a great sign.
To be fair, not all the houses have been nightmares. Some have been close. But “close” isn’t the one, and if we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly. Bryan keeps saying, Marta, we have time. I keep saying, Yes, but I have zero patience. Somewhere between those two, we’ll find the right place.
What’s Next?
More viewings. More negotiations. More of Bryan’s spreadsheets and my impulsive “But what if we just… went for it?” moments. The next few weeks are going to be interesting. Maybe we’ll find our villa. Maybe we’ll run screaming back to Devon. Either way, I’ll keep you posted.
For now? We keep searching, keep hoping, and keep debating how much over budget is too over budget. Bryan has a number in his head. I have a feeling. Let’s see who wins.
Catch you in the next one.