Benidorm, Costa del terror

Over the last year it's suffice to say I've travelled. A lot. Living in north-east France made it easy to visit Luxembourg, Belgium, Germany and Switzerland easily. I visited 5 more countries in Central/Eastern Europe in March and even made it to Italy for the first time in May (worth it for the food alone). Now living in Alicante, it's harder to jet-set across Central Europe, so being the traveller I am I do my best to explore the surrounding area. The resort of Benidorm lies a mere 70 minute tram ride away from Alicante, so it was this town I cautiously chose to explore one afternoon two weeks ago...

In a nutshell

Benidorm. Beni-York. Beni-Vegas. The most popular holiday resort in mainland Spain. Population: 100 000 (swells to 300 000 during the summer months). Benidorm boasts over 300 days of sunshine per year thanks to its 'Mediterranean microclimate'. It also boasts over 140 skyscrapers (buildings with over 20 floors) -more than anywhere else in the world if you exclude New York. Over 90% of people who travel to Benidorm will revisit at some point. Over 40 000 hotel beds (3rd highest amount in Europe after London and Paris). Over 800 bars. And a ridiculous amount of Brits.

After reading the statistics, I was curious. The rise of cheap package holidays and guaranteed sunshine tempted the Brits (and the Germans, Dutch and Scandinavians) and why wouldn't it? However the vision I'd had of Benidorm in my head was of red faced Brits getting pissed for less than 5 euros, cooked breakfast in tow. Was the stereotype true? And why do people keep going back to the jewel of the Costa Brava?

Upon arrival in Benidorm I was surprisingly optimistic. A new place to explore, maybe it wouldn't be as bad as the image I had in my head. 20 minutes later I was ready to leave again. All I could see were ugly buildings, buses, beer and Brits- far from idyllic. However it wasn't always like this...

In the early 1950s Don Pedro Zaragoza, mayor of Benidorm had a vision: to transform the sleepy fishing town into a tourist metropolis. Apparently his idea to build hotels upwards were to please the people and ensure that everyone would have a sea view (definitely not for financial gain then...). Zaragoza famously drove the 300 miles to Madrid on his Vespa to personally get Franco's permission so that ladies could sport bikinis on the beach (the first place in Spain that allowed this, interestingly). Regardless of his motives, old Zaragoza's plans were successful. Benidorm as we know it was born. The rest, as they say, is history.

Over 50 years later and there are still bikinis on Levante beach (which is surprisingly pleasant if you ignore the skyscrapers that surround it). There are also thousands of British people- red faced as they forgot the Ambre Solaire, wanting 24 hour entertainment and a decent cuppa. A mini England in the Spanish sunshine- Benidorm was exactly how I imagined. After wandering up and down the main 'strip' full of souvenir shops and British bars (I even found a Geordie bar, much to my amusement), I was ready to return to the safety of Alicante.

Now living abroad for the past year has definitely taught me not to pigeonhole and stereotype, 'don't judge a book by its cover' blah blah blah. Yet the all too negative stereotype other Europeans have of 'Brits Abroad' was unfortunately confirmed in Benidorm. I felt ashamed to be British as I witnessed my fellow compatriots drinking, shouting and swearing in the streets at one o'clock in the afternoon.

A moment of respite

A 5 minute walk from Levante beach, central Benidorm

As I walked uphill at the top end of Levante beach I turned a corner and found a cove, just moments away from the hustle and bustle of Benidorm. Barely anyone was there- British ignorance at its best, yet for me it was the only redeeming feature of the entire city. Maybe it's only a matter of time before 'Bradley's British Beach Bar' opens and the peace is gone...

P.S. This Benidorm article is great from The Guardian (where else?)

Las Hogueras, Alicante 2011. A pyromaniac's paradise.

I've been meaning to blog about the craziness that were Las Hogueras for a while now but haven't got round to it funnily enough.

After 4 fantastic days in Madrid, followed by a 6 hour bus journey I arrived in Alicante tired and, well, ready for bed. Cue my complete surprise when I turned into my street to find an open air restaurant banging out 'pimping tunes' literally outside my front door. Not only that but there was a huge statue which was attracting a ridiculous amount of Spanish children to say it was nearly midnight. It was to be the start of a LOUD and tiring week...

My street, upon my return from Madrid

Every year the Hogueras de San Juan (or Fogueres in Valenciano) are celebrated in various Spanish towns on the 24th June. Alicante is renowned to be the best place to experience the fiesta and quite rightly too. On the weekend preceding the 24th June, statues are erected throughout the city. These statues are meant to be ugly and many of them satirize the news/polititians/popular media figures. Throughout the week, the statues are left to revel in their own ugliness, before they are all burnt to the ground at midnight after 24th June, a public holiday here in Alicante. You'd never get that in the UK, health and safety risk, etc, etc, blah blah blah.

Wandering around

In the week preceding 24th June, there are daily mascletas-public fireworks which took place a mere 5 minutes from my front door. I've never really understood why fireworks are necessary during the day- you can't see anything! You could bloody hear it all over the city though, felt more like a war zone than a celebratory event. Naturally, I made the most of fiesta week (I wasn't working which made it easier) so went out every night. Open air clubs were set up (they were about 3 big ones in the city), my favourite being Havana Club leading from the centre down to the port. Made a nice change from Alicante's Carpe Diem bar where we go dancing every weekend anyway.

Crowds for the daily mascleta

On the 23rd June, there was the international parade, whereby international communities living in Alicante and the surrounding area showcase their talent- this year there were mariachi bands, flamenco dances and Brazilian drumming (my personal favourite).

So, on the evening of 24th June, the ugly statues get burned. At midnight la Palmera (palm firework) is launched from the Castillo de Santa Barbara (castle). This is the signal to start burning the statues, beginning with those in the Plaza del Ayuntamiento (town hall square). It's a busy night for the firefighters who have to hose down all of the statues, as well as soaking all the public intelligent/crazy/delete as appropriate enough to stand close to the inferno. As I said to my friend 'It's a pyromaniac's paradise'. After watching la Palmera from the beach, we quickly moved into the Plaza del Ayuntamiento to witness the burning of 2 statues. Got a bit wet...

Let the burning commence...

The day ended up in Havana street disco, had a fantastic night singing and dancing and reveling. Now as this is Spain and not the UK, the fiesta did not end there. There were fireworks on the beach the 5 nights that followed the 24th. Fan-bloody-tastic! 20 minutes of ooh-ing and aah-ing every night- think I've had my firework fix for the year anyway.

Ready for fireworks on the beach.

Las Hogueras. Had I not come to Alicante, I would not have known anything about it. This is one of the things I love about Spain-towns and provinces have different fiestas, different public holidays, different things to experience. For tourists/travelers like myself it's great to witness, yet it explains why Spanish national identity is at the forefront of politics in this country- there's so much regional pride that it is often hard to visualise a united Spain. Of course this is more apparent in Catalunya and the País Vasco (Basque Country), but coming to Alicante (part of the Valenciano Community) has made me realise regional pride is everywhere. And why not celebrate it?

Tabarca

Arriving on Tabarca.

One of the most pleasant surprises I had when I came to Alicante was that it wasn't, well, ugly. I'd always been a bit presumptuous when it came to Spain's Costas, thinking that they were full of sunburned and boozy Brits abroad. Just the kind of people I wanted to escape from, to be quite honest. Hence my surprise as I wandered round Alicante's barrio, or old town as I discovered quiet little squares, colourful houses and not a Brit in sight.

Fast forward 6 weeks and it's still the same. I think Benidorm just up the coast houses all the Brits on the Costa Blanca as I rarely speak English here. In fact, I haven't even had a conversation with a British person here, I hear the occasional voice on the beach but there are far more Germans and French.

Yes, I am not oblivious to the fact that Benidorm and such resorts do exist. However the province of Alicante is famous for its beautiful villages, which I need to start exploring. I started by visiting the Island of Tabarca (or Isla de Tabarca for all you Spanish nerds) last week.

A bit of a history/ geography lesson for you now. Tabarca is the largest inhabited island in the Valencian community and lies a mere 11 miles south east of the brights lights of Alicante. Its population is around 100, which can swell to 3000 during the summer months. Although peaceful nowadays, Tabarca's history is fascinating- in the 18th century, the king of Tunisia invaded the island and took as his prisoners the people living there. In later years pirates used the island to attack the Costa Blanca in the 18th century. Ooh-arrrr!

So after a pleasant 70 minute boat trip from Alicante, we (myself and 4 French) arrived on the island which is just beautiful! It was relatively quiet for a summer day, so we headed straight to the beach armed with home-made sandwiches, fruit and a ridiculous amount of crisps. One sandy picnic later we were ready to hit the water- naturally we spent a few happy hours splashing/swimming around, loving the fact that we could see our on feet beneath us through the clear sea. Absolutely beautiful, peaceful and great for diving/snorkeling too!

After our 3 hour stint on the beach, we started to explore the island, marveling at the sea (which seemed even clearer from a height), walking on coastal paths, eating a much deserved ice cream and annoying the cat population of the island. I felt like I was on a Greek island- beautiful white-washed houses, peace and quiet. Definitely worth the 18 euro boat ride.

Hope you enjoy the photos. My only regret is that we didn't get to sea the island at sunset. I'm a sucker for a beautiful sunset. The trip to Tabarca proved to me that there is much more to the Costa Blanca than obese, red faced Brits demanding a pint and a cooked breakfast. Proof that we really shouldn't judge a book by its cover...

Swimming in crystal clear waters. Bliss.

Escaping the sun.

Leaving Tabarca.

Quitting...

Well, I am certainly integrating in Spain. Like 45% of the Spanish youth population, I am now unemployed! Desempleada. Parada. Punto. At the moment, there are 5 million unemployed in Spain. ''Now there are 5 million and one'' someone kindly pointed out to me the other night. Cheers for that mate.

Soooooo to cut a long story short, I quit my job. Strange as I've never 'quit' anything before, but so glad I did. The bipolar boss I spoke about last time is a bit of a nutter- she wanted me to work as an au-pair for a family while she got paid for it as well as working in the office! Ha! What a deluded old crow! Fuck that...

So don't really want to ramble on about it, it's a shame though, especially as I came to Alicante to work and now ironically have nothing to do. Still. It could be worse. When I was bored the other day I thought to myself 'Stop whingeing! You're in Spain, right by the beach, good weather, nice people, etc.'

The job hunt begins...

In other news, I've wandered around Alicante a lot this week (thankfully not alone). There was a medieval market in the old town at the weekend which was cool- busy, but cool. Had a picnic on the beach with my flatmates on Saturday and wandered uphill to the castle area, then went out with some (ex) work colleagues to a random Italian house party (complete with tiramisu much to my delight) and the favourite bar, Carpe Diem. Have been in there 4 times now and can practically guess the entire playlist.

In other news, have consumed rather a lot of ice cream. Win.

In Spain in the membrane

Sooooo la prochaine aventure has begun!

Home for the next few months.

I am now in Alicante, Spain a.k.a. home for a while. It's been a strange 2 weeks, ups and downs, etc. Working in a language school, which DEFINITELY is not as exciting as I thought it would be when I got the job. So far I've been making databases and finding basketball clubs in England/France/Spain/Ireland and just about every other European country I can think of.The boss is bipolar- one minute moody and huffy, the next rambling on about something completely irrelevant, etc. And to top it all off, I'm unpaid! Bof, alors.

Alicante is a nice city, particuarly el barrio, a.k.a the old town, so cute in the day and home to all of the bars/restaurants at night. Had a few good nights out already with my work colleagues (mainly French, much to my delight) in Carpe Diem, Alicante's equivalent to Sinners in Newcastle. (I seem to find this everywhere...) and a few clubs around the port.

Beach is good, there's an old castle and H+M/Mango/Zara and that's Alicante in a nutshell. There's not a great deal of culture, although I did watch a free screening of Grease in the town hall square last week with some CouchSurfers, v. cultural if I do say so myself. Especially brilliant as characters burst into song in English.

Have spent copious amounts of time in Mercadona, supermarket for anyone on a budget in Alicante. I think the cashier recognises me already- should probably get more of a life...

Aims for the next month:

• Go to Benidorm (only one hour away from Alicante on the tram). Just to see if it's what I've been imagining in my nightmares. I've already started streaming the TV series in preparation.
• Go to the beach. Get something that resembles a faint tan/ colour in my cheeks.
• Learn the lyrics to the Sugarhill Gang's 'Rapper's Delight'. So far I can do about 20 seconds.
• Revise Spanish. Arrived here and realised I can't remember anything. Mierda!

Boredom?

This is brilliant. Cheers Tucknutt. http://twitter.com/#!/kanyewest/status/27590685489.

• Geordie Shore= my new TV obsession, despite the fact that all of them belong in a skip in Whitley Bay. Trash TV at its finest, although apparently the Geordies aren't too impressed. According to my source (a shit newspaper), Geordie Shore has sparked a backlash for making girls from Newcastle look like 'fat slags'. Brilliant.

• Listening to this a lot. Reminds me of my last few days in France when all I had was a radio and a shit load of food to eat up. Happy memories.

Soooooo Alicante. So far it's nothing on France......