My memories of the full week we spent on the Spanish coast are so entwined with the obsession I had for The Hunger Games that it’s difficult for me to be 100% confident whether we spent each day lazing at the beach drinking gin or whether, actually, at various points we were embroiled in a giant war where my expert archery skills allowed me to shoot deer to feed my cake-baking lover Peeta. It’s all a bit hazy.
We spent the week between Valencia, Alicante and a sweet little town named Denia, which is the port to go to-and-from Ibiza. It was a town of absolute contrast: boarded up hostels on the beach front as well as fancy Michelin starred restaurants. Things were amazingly cheap, the people were super friendly and the beaches were clean and wonderful (and you could order diet cokes from your deck chairs, which meant The Hunger Games was never far away) Win.
|Oh hai sun-worshipping Valencians, i hope my spray tan has fooled you into thinking i am one of you.|
|Katniss in Alicante.|
|a sandcastle worthy of Katniss.|
|Katniss on the grass.|
|Katniss by the pool.|