NOT A TYPICAL SPANISH TOWN
Firstly, I remind you that what you mainly see in Benidorm as a tourist are skyscrapers, beaches, rows of restaurant, bar, discotheque and shop. Nada mas. So forget about medieval churches, palacio real, painting museums, historical buildings and so on. They are just not what it offers. The only signs signifying that you’re in still in Spain is the plaza mayor and the locals speaking Spanish. I was disappointed at first. However, it gives me unforgettable experiences with British visitors occupying the east coast of Spain.
BRIT NIGHT LIFE
Initially, I wanted to observe Dutch tourist behaviour in a Spanish town. But Great Britain was shifting to Spain. Their presence was not only marked by their accents, but also some bars and night clubs purposely targeting on British customers with Brit Pop and Beatles nights. Even one of the pubs is named after a British rock legend besides The Beatles: (The) Rolling Stones. I guess the only locals in those places were bartenders, janitors and bodyguards.
No matter where they go, they just love being noticed with their peculiar outfits. The bizarre habit doesn’t surprise me at all. I have seen British tourist dozens of times in Amsterdam. They usually come in groups with certain dress codes approved by their own peers: Playboy bunnies, Alice in Wonderland, Vampires etc. Santa Claus is no exception, even if it is not the month of December. By the way, did you notice Union Jack garland below the Bahamas neon lights?
“THIS IS MY APARTMENT!”
Next morning at 8 am, somebody knocked our apartment door. Nobody wished to be an early riser after a long night, drinking and getting dizzy at dawn. Nonetheless, the sound of banging door wouldn’t stop unless somebody opened the door. Unfortunately, I was the only one who managed to wake up.
“This is my apartment!” A half-drunken guy in his heavy British accent standing in front of me claimed that the room we were staying was his.
“The receptionist gave us the key yesterday and the room was empty!” I defended myself. My gals and I did nothing wrong.
The girl behind him kept trying to calm him down. “It’s OK, baby. C’mon, let’s go!” She said to him repeatedly.
He explained that he and his girlfriend stayed in our room earlier, then left for another city for 2 nights and planned to returned to the room after that. They said they had not checked out yet and couldn’t understand why we were in their room instead. I advised them to talk to the receptionist and deal with it. They agreed, and finally left me in peace. Phew!!
BEACH FIGHT
I’m not a beach person. Sunbathing and tanning my skin are not my things at all from the start. But my gals wanted it so badly. As mentioned on the previous post that I had to skip working for this trip, I had a specific reason to avoid it. Can you imagine if the office people saw me getting tanned as soon as I recovered from illness?
Undoubtedly, the weather was perfect with lots of sun combined with heavenly wind breeze that made me feel relaxed and fall asleep like a baby. I couldn’t bare missing it. Again, I broke the rule. Fortunately, the rented beach chair was equipped with an umbrella to protect my skin from tanning effect.
It was a perfect afternoon until someone pushed me to the right side when I was sitting on my beach chair. Before I knew it, my ass became half-seated. A guy coming out of the blue stole the other half of my seating space without permission. I was shocked and jumped from my seat. The gals were also surprised who on earth that guy was. I forgot what he said exactly. The point is that he and I should get to know each other more. But hey, please treat a gal with more respect! Even if he just won an Oscar last week, or he looks as hot as Ryan Gosling…- Wait! He’s British, so take Jude Law instead – I didn’t give a shit!
My days in the office were such a crap already. It took time and energy to find a perfect getaway to a dreamland where I could temporarily vanish from that crappy circle of life. My funding was in shortage, but still I forced myself to make the trip come true. In that kind of circumstances, I believe I deserve to get pissed off if anybody ruin my holiday. I usually didn’t sweat small irritating stuff, except this one. I really wanted him to get out of my territory.
“SHUT UP AND GET OUT! I TELL YOU, GET OUT!!!” I yelled it repeatedly while pointing the exit way of the beach area nearby. That guy was persistent at first to stay. But finally he walked out to the exit I pointed. Shortly after, I realized that other people sunbathing around me became spectators of the battle. Pretty ashamed, to be honest. My gals stared at me and were silent, couldn’t believe with what I just did.
There were abundant of topless women on the beach, both young and old. I was wearing shorts and tank top. Not even a bikini showing abs and cleavage. So why he locked his target on me, not my gals and other naked women, remains a mystery.
I didn’t mean to dislike British people by the way, so don’t get me wrong. In fact, I have met nice and friendly Brits in other places, been in love with London capital and have a relative living in the country for decades. If have bad experience with them, it’s just a random misfortune. If I only focus on one nationality in my story this time, it’s just coincidental since it was something significant during the trip.
In a nutshell, Benidorm is about having fun. Get used to with unexpected behaviour from its visitors!
GalOnTrip 