The hill, lovingly nicknamed “La Montañeta” by locals, was once surrounded by a patchwork of humble homes, winding streets with names like “Calle del Molino” (for the mill) and “Calle del Diluvio” (let’s hope they didn’t mean that literally), and a bustling quarry where workers chipped away at the rock. Imagine the life here, with laughter echoing down narrow streets, and maybe a local or two grumbling about the steep climb home. Oh, and just next door, the grand convent of San Francisco watched over the whole area-which eventually became the Church of Nuestra Señora de Gracia.
But cities change, and Alicante was about to trade its little mountain for something far grander. In the late 1940s, the Franco regime, with big plans and even bigger bulldozers, demolished the old hill, the crumbling houses, even the ancient San Cayetano tower-once the last piece of Alicante’s medieval walls, which had guarded the city since before Queen Isabella II’s royal train came steaming into town.
What rose in its place was this rectangular plaza, with its crisp, classical buildings-home now to the main offices of the Spanish government in Alicante. The architectural styles around you are a patchwork quilt of the early Franco era, all brought together with a dash of old-fashioned grandeur. For a while, the square proudly wore the name “Plaza del Caudillo” in honor of Franco himself-a reminder of its politically-charged transformation. But don’t worry, it returned to its true name in 1978, just in time for modern Alicante to step onto the stage.
And every winter, this square still comes alive, as the city’s biggest nativity scene springs up in lights and laughter, filling the space with anticipation and holiday cheer. Isn’t it amazing what stories can hide beneath your feet?
