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?)

An update.

Without realising, this blog has morphed from 'Musings about France' to a standard travel blog. Thought I'd give you an update on life in Southern Spain.

Spain is going well. After an initial shaky start- disappointment that my work experience turned out to be a bit of a con/ doubt whether I could find work, I finally have more of a routine. Teaching English in an international consultancy firm (get me) 5 hours a week and practicing English with 2 adorable Spanish kids in a nearby town. I basically run around playing volleyball/hide and seek/football/tennis/go swimming with the children whilst speaking English. Yes, I'm not working terribly hard but at least I'm working and now earning some money (which makes me feel a LOT less guilty whenever I walk into Zara and inevitably end up purchasing something).

Aside from my lessons, I don't speak English here which is great, HOWEVER over the last few weeks I've spoken more French than Spanish. Which isn't a huge problem for me to be honest- after all I'm studying more French next year. My Spanish is better than when I came, so despite the initial work experience disappointment, all is not lost!

Nevertheless home is a mere two and a half weeks away and I cannot wait. Maybe it's because of the heat (at least 30 degrees every day- I haven't worn jeans/a hoody in weeks), maybe it's because I've realised I couldn't live in Spain. Little things that have started to annoy me about the Spanish- not clearing up after themselves in fast food restaurants, general loudness, rudeness whilst queuing for public transport, etc. Or maybe it's because of something else. Yes, Spain is a beautiful country with great weather, food, amazing parties and spectacular landmarks, but why couldn't I see myself living here?

Maybe because it's not France...

Madrid

I''m not usually one for revisiting somewhere so soon after I've been (with the exception of Paris, where you can take me anytime). I usually prefer to explore new places and add to the increasingly long list of 'Places I have been'. I like the unknown- those moments when you arrive at a bus station/train station/airport without a map/local currency, etc. It makes it all the more worthwhile when you find your feet and start experiencing the place for yourself. Last summer I visited Madrid, Spain's capital for 4 days- the start of 2 brilliant weeks Interrailing around Spain. Almost a year to the day, I was back to visit Jackie (American flatmate from France) who is working there this summer as an au-pair.

The benefits of being (relatively) unemployed is the fact that you can pack up and do whatever you want. I decided on a whim to go to Madrid (booked on the Monday, went on the Thursday, in true Peter Kay 'Packed it, booked it, fucked off' style). Naturally I chose the 50€ return bus ride rather than the 75€ train, so spent 5 and a bit hours staring out at Spain's dry landscape.

A few hours later and I'd checked into my hostel and was off exploring. I love the fact that Madrid's centre is small and easy to walk round, so did just that, stopping to watch protesters in Sol, meeting point and central hub of Spain. After meeting up with the wife, we ate a LOT of cake, had some cider and headed to a small bar in the Lavapies district, the traditional immigrant area where alcohol is generally a lot cheaper. Win!

Things I did in Madrid

• Met up with friends from both Nancy and Newcastle. Had a great time catching up and swapping stories.
• Ate a LOT of ice cream. Would have been rude not to in the 32 degree heat.
• Wandered around Plaza Mayor, Sol and the beautiful Retiro park
• Swam in the pool in Jackie's complex. She's a lucky one.
• Ate a LOT of tapas. Found a great little bar where you get a free plate of tapas with every drink.
• Discovered Mojitos. I'd never really liked them before but this trip changed all that. Brilliant news!
• Went to a quiz in an English bookshop. Lost. Felt dumb (how am I supposed to know who the last King of Albania was??)
• Went to an indie club! Danced like no one was watching (although everyone probably was seen as NO ONE was dancing).
• Sat in parks, watched little yappy dogs yapping around. Saw a lot of protests. Sat down and listened. Spain is angry.

Protests in Sol.

Why Madrid is better than Barcelona

• Fewer tourists. Yes, there are still a lot but in Barcelona it's just ridiculous. Result- stuff is cheaper.
• Easier to explore the city centre on foot. You can easily walk from the Retiro on the east side to the Palace on the west.
• Better tapas.
• Safer. Not once did I feel uncomfortable or feel like I had to watch my bag.

Needless to say I'm glad I returned to Madrid. This is a young city that has a lot of offer in terms of culture/nightlife and I could see myself living there quite happily. It's a shame it is sometimes overlooked by its Catalan sibling and neglected by tourists. Then again, maybe that's a good thing..

Tan-bloody-tastic.

In the winter, I couldn't give a shit. In the summer, quite the contrary. TANNING. Bane of my sodding life right now.

It's probably because I'm in Spain where everyone is

a) Tanned

b) Naturally tanned (bastards).

I would definitely win the award for palest person on the beach in Alicante. I don't even burn and then tan. Year round I am white/slightly red. Pas juste!

After a couple of mishaps with Holiday Skin (some of you have seen the damage and laughed uncontrollably- I bought a mitt soon after), I can't really fake it. I'm sure someone's come up with an 'idiot proof' fake tanning product, but it sure ain't 'Helen proof'.

Went to the beach yesterday for two hours between 4-6pm and managed to burn my stomach and right arm/leg whilst wearing factor 50 suncream. Even being safe in the sun can't save me...

Still, at least I don't look like this:

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......