Denia — A Coliving for When You Need a Break from Coliving

I came for a quiet stopover. I left with three projects online and calves that had filed a formal complaint.

So, Denia. I’d been here once before. Ten years ago, if I remember correctly, which I probably don’t. Autumn 2026, my second time on the Costa Blanca.

The first time, I’d gone on about the reliably warm weather down here so much that a colleague spent a week of his holiday in the region with me.

It rained. A lot. It was freezing. He has never forgiven me, and I’d argue he shouldn’t.

Back then Denia was a day trip. We barely saw the town. Mostly the castle. Which, to be fair, is a fantastic view with a lot of history attached. The kind of sight that makes you forget you’re wet. Briefly.

On the way to somewhere else

This time was also a road trip. Not a day in a car, though. Denia sat on my ride down from Cologne to the Algarve, and more specifically, so did Co-Co Coliving and Coworking.

I’d known them for a while. First the classic way: an Instagram follow and a vague intention. Then last year, when we were thrown out of the (now closed) coliving in Palma, I got in touch properly while hunting for an alternative.

So, since it was on the way anyway, I asked if they had a room for two weeks. Short notice, same as I’d done a few days earlier with Wonderhouse Coliving near Barcelona. It’s becoming a method.

Funny thing I only noticed while writing this: in 2026 I’ve lived alone, without people around me, for roughly one week. Every time I decided I needed a quiet break to recharge, I ended up in another community house instead.

This time it was Co-Co.

And again, it was different.

Flatmates, not a programme

I’d describe Co-Co as the coliving you go to when you need a break from colivings.

You get all the good parts of an owner-run place. The people. Someone who knows the area, is always around, helps out and is genuinely lovely. A great house.

What you don’t get: scheduled programmes. No “family meetings”. Everything happens day to day, spontaneously. It’s less a community experiment and more living with flatmates.

That took some adjusting. A lot, actually. After a couple of days it was fine.

What helped considerably was a regional craft beer pub over in Xàbia, La Refinería. Nothing settles you into a new environment quite like finding its best tap list. Healthy, probably not. Effective, very.

The workaholic strikes again

Towards the end I noticed something, to my own surprise. I’d been highly productive. Far more than in the months before.

My fitness suffered (for other reasons, which I’ll get to). My work output, on the other hand, was fantastic. Three projects went online, two got updated, and one of the new ones was built from scratch.

Which also explains why the two weeks went by so fast. I worked. I barely saw the town beyond the supermarket. And I went running, until my calves were so sore from all the hills that I couldn’t walk properly for three days.

Those are the other reasons.

A detour for hugs and beer

There were a few highlights besides the laptop, though.

For one, I stopped in Altea again to see my friend Lazlo. Just a quick hello and a chat.

Altea was still quiet. And for the first time I experienced it as someone who actually had to use the main street. Let’s just say: bring patience. Bring more than you think.

Altea was also a pit stop on the way down to Alicante, where I met another friend. We’d last seen each other in Burgas, two weeks earlier. Which was already too long.

So: hugs and beer. As planned. After ditching a tourist trap (Bira), we found a properly fantastic, slightly expensive craft beer bar, the Bubbles Beer Club.

A few beers and one sunrise later I was back on the road to Denia. A couple of hours with this guy is worth the riding time. Every time.

Food, in two acts

On my last day, Denia had something special lined up: the D*na Festival Dénia, a food festival along the town’s promenade.

I can only recommend it. A good way to taste your way through the regional specialities without having to commit to a full restaurant meal. Or, in my case, while committing to several.

The third highlight was in the house itself. One of the regulars was preparing for a burger contest at the coliving a few weeks later. Which made us, the residents, the guinea pigs.

Happy guinea pigs. The burgers were very good. Good enough that I made the mistake of eating more than my stomach had agreed to. Twice. Pattern recognition, once again, arriving after the fact.

The small print

So, all in all, it was a good stop. Would I go back, climb that hill again and park myself by the pool?

Maybe.

It’s a genuine maybe. Because there were a few things I didn’t like.

First, a small social situation in the house that the hosts didn’t handle particularly well. Not dramatic. Just not great.

Second, the coworking part of the house. Background: people who aren’t staying there can buy a day ticket to work in the coworking area.

My problem with that: as a guest, this is my temporary home. Shared with other guests I know. Once complete strangers start wandering around, I’m no longer sure I want to leave my door unlocked. One extra coworker, fine. More than one, and I start doing the German thing of mentally inventorying my belongings.

Third, the bathrooms. Two guests share one bathroom. That’s fine. The coworkers use the same bathroom. That is not fine.

I’ll have to weigh it up, I suppose. As soon as I know I’m in the area again. Which, given how this year has gone, is less a question of if than of when.