It’s 6am and I still haven’t figured out which Calahonda I’m actually looking for.
I should explain. There are three beaches with this exact name along the southern coast of Spain — one near Mijas, one tucked under the cliffs at Nerja, one further east in Motril, in a region called the Costa Tropical. I’d bookmarked the name weeks ago without writing down which one. Typical. Old habit from my ICU days, actually — write the important thing down immediately or you’ll lose it in the noise. I didn’t, and I ended up spending a morning in the wrong Calahonda before I found the one I meant to find. I’m still not sure I regret it.
Mijas: The One Everyone Finds First
The Mijas Calahonda is long and busy — golden sand, a wooden walking path running toward Marbella, chiringuitos every few hundred meters selling grilled sardines to people in matching sun hats. Nice enough. Not what I came for.
Nerja: The One Everyone Photographs
The Nerja Calahonda is smaller, prettier in the obvious way, a cove under a cliff that everyone photographs from the same three angles. I stood there for ten minutes and left.
Motril: The One That Stayed With Me
Motril’s Calahonda doesn’t try to be a resort town, because it isn’t one. The water goes from pale green to a deep, almost bruised blue within a few meters of the shore — which apparently makes it good for diving, though I never went in past my knees. I found a bar with three plastic tables and no menu, just whatever the owner’s brother had caught that morning. I ate slowly. Nobody rushed me.
I don’t have a good reason for liking it more than the other two. It’s not more beautiful, not really. It just felt like a town first and a beach second, which is the order I prefer things to come in — maybe the same reason Hamburg never quite let go of me even after I did.
If You’re Thinking About It
Motril’s Calahonda sits on the Costa Tropical in Granada province, about 50 minutes east of Málaga by car, longer by bus. It’s a Blue Flag beach, clear enough for snorkeling without any real effort. Skip August if you can — I went in late September and had most of the shoreline to myself by mid-morning. There’s no glamorous accommodation to recommend; I stayed in a small pensión two streets back for about €40 a night, and that felt right for the place.
Just double-check which Calahonda you’re booking. Ask me how I know.
