You’re looking for a grand stone palace with three impressive levels, lots of elegant balconies with wrought iron railings, and lush greenery peeking out from behind a black iron gate-just keep your eyes to the corner where the cobbled road bends and you won’t miss it!
Welcome to the Rubalcava Palace! You’re standing at the gate where history, a little bit of grandeur, and a cheeky whisper of forgotten parties all live together. In the 1930s, after the old abbot’s house from the Church of Santiago was brought down, the noble family of Sagredo Bassieres and Heredia decided to build themselves a home that would make any marquis jealous. And honestly, if you had as much style as they did, you’d want everyone in Orihuela to see it too.
So picture this: the air filled with the scent of orange blossoms drifting from the gardens, a clatter of horse hooves on the cobblestones outside, and through the gate, a line of carriages rolling in for yet another grand reception. The marquises of Rubalcava lived here in the lap of elegance, in a palace meant to rival the baroque dreams of old Orihuela. You’d be greeted by a vast entryway flooded with sunlight from above, its ceiling held aloft by decorated arches and crowned with a dazzling neobaroque dome. The marble staircase-yes, marble-sweeps up in style, flanked by intricate Valencian tiles, guiding guests toward the most important rooms.
Back in those splendid days, the ground floor was where the staff did their thing and carriages rested in stables. But on the first floor, oh, that was where the action happened. Stunning salons bursting with golden trim, elegant oil paintings, and even an impressive collection of eighteenth-century Manises ceramics-the family was serious about making a good impression. Each room had its own atmosphere. The Salón Rosa glowed with pink silks and Queen Anne chairs, while the Salón de las Columnas featured regal columns and plush red fabrics. There was even a piano made from rich mahogany for late-night music-if only the walls could talk, right?
The story of the palace doesn’t stop with noble dances and aristocratic chatter. When the marquises eventually moved on, the palace went through an identity crisis or two. In the 1980s, part of the ground floor was used as a headquarters for the festival association of Moros y Cristianos-imagine capes, swords, and much debate about who’d be the top knight next year! Later, it became the city’s archaeological museum, and even housed the Social Services department at one point. You could say this place has worn more hats than a busy mayor.
Today, the Rubalcava Palace is owned by the city and serves social and cultural purposes, including being the main tourist office. But don’t let its modern use fool you; this building is dripping with stories. Just think: you could once wander through a neobarroque gallery, spot noble family crests painted on the dome, or admire tapestries of King Philip III. And somewhere up on the second floor, the bedrooms waited in quiet stillness, with a second kitchen ready to feed a crowd.
The gardens outside are surrounded by iron and stone, offering privacy and-if you listen closely-a hint of water bubbling from old fountains. The benches are made from twinkling tiles and wrought iron, perfect for a marquis in need of a rest after all those parties.
Here’s a slice of mystery: some of the palace’s grandest rooms and finest furnishings have vanished over time, especially during the city’s ownership. The beautiful Hall of Columns? The plush red fabrics and rococo furniture? Gone-no one knows exactly where. Even the intricate covered balcony, all plateresque charm, is lost to history. In a way, the palace is both a monument and a puzzle, with its treasures scattered and secrets hidden in the city’s memory.
But fear not, not everything is missing! You can still visit the palace on most days, wandering through restored halls and admiring paintings ranging from baroque to romantic. Check out the antique cabinetry, the stained glass, and an impressive array of ceramics-and maybe, just maybe, imagine yourself sweeping down those stairs in full marquis style.
So, now that you’re here, take a deep breath and soak in the grandeur. Imagine the clinking of glasses, the music from a mahogany piano, and the clamor of socialites arguing over who’s best dressed-just remember to wave at the tourists wandering in for information.
