Beside the Seaside

« In Which I Have A Little Plan | Home | In Which I Find Myself Singing Shang-A-Lang.. »

In Which I Am Much Vexed By Snogging Pensioners

April 9, 2008 by Mike

Benidorm

Route: El Campello - Villajoyosa - Benidorm

First things first: if anyone ever corners you at a party and tells you there just aren't enough old people snogging in public these days, tell 'em from me:

1. They've clearly never been to Benidorm;
and
2. They're wrong. It's wrong. It just looks.. wrong.

And they're at it like rabbits in this incredible, 24-hour, neon, smelling-of-chip-fat-and-beer, kiss-me-quick, couldn't-be-less-Spanish-if-it-tried fleshpot.

Benidorm. I. Love. It.

Benidorm is the second-tallest place on earth, in terms of skyscraping buildings. After Manhattan. Or so someone told me. I've memories of Sao Paolo as a city with a *phenomenally* high skyline, but maybe the vast favelas bring the average down. Tokyo? Apparently not. (Everybody in Orgiva was high -- but that's a different matter entirely.

So Benidorm it is. The highest buildings are all clustered together by the beaches ("so everyone gets a sea view") and I read that a former mayor insisted on plenty of green space too.. not that you'd notice anything as natural as a tree round here.

Benidorm. The sea-front is wall-to-wall bars and restaurants on both long, arching beaches, to the east and west (Levante and Poniente) of the Old Town. The Avenida Mediterraneo, which runs a block or so back, is the main thoroughfare. You can by anything here, so long as you want tat.

Any number of roads running off and between them are the heartbeat of Benidorm by day (Full English breakfast, Sky Sports and beer) and Benidorm at night (Sky Sports, beer and kebabs.. and live entertainment.. more on that tomorrow.)

Benidorm. I rode the length of town, roadworks permitting, in search of Clive and Marie's campsite: El Raco. They'd raved about the place. (They hadn't mentioned the price: I've stayed in half-decent hotels for a lot less than I'm being charged here -- for a pitch on rock-hard ground too, mind.) And now I can rave about it too -- the friendliest campsite I've ever seen. Hell, it's probably the friendliest place I've ever been to, full-stop.

Tony and his two kids got talking to me before I'd even left Reception to find a place to camp. He's been here three years. We're already best mates. (Dave is 70 if he's a day.)

Every person I passed as I rode in nodded, waved, smiled or said "How do" (in broad Lancashire.) (Everyone here is from t'North. (Average age: 69-and-three-quarters.)

The couple in the caravan opposite me, the family in the tent beside me, and the couple in the campervan behind me all made a point of welcoming me to their home -- a lot of the people in El Raco live here all year round, or the 9-10 'winter' months. (Average age: 72, and that includes a grandchild in the tent.)

Within five minutes, Tony came along on his bicycle to make sure I was settling in. He'd already been over to Clive and Marie's to let them know I was here, but they weren't in.

Then.. along comes Marie with a couple of friends, off to the market. It's really good to see a familiar face and.. hang on, talking of friendly, I think one of her pals is giving me the glad eye. (Age -- if I might be so ungallant -- in the low 70s. Eeek.)

And on and on. Camping Raco is incredibly friendly.. and a wee bit elderly.

People wander round, smiling and chatting and visiting friends. And a huge proportion of them stop to admire the bike. It's never had this much attention. But then it's never seen quite this many people who look old enough to remember the Bonneville first time round.

This is starting to read like an advert for Help The Aged.. or Be Friends With A Wrinkly. I'll move on to Benidorm town itself.

.. which I pretty much what I did, having broken my fingers, and tent pegs, getting the tent up.

It's half a mile or so to the beach. I walk past, on one side of one block:
* The Tropical Sport Bar & Fun Pub
* The Bottle & Jug
* Rachel's Bar
* Beer's Friends Pub
* The Steak House
* Little Belfast
* The Rock and Roll House (Four Acts Nightly)

All showed the Liverpool-Arsenal game tonight.

In the next block, if I hadn't given up taking notes, I'd be pointing you in the direction of Del Boy's Emporium, The English Supermarket and many, many more besides.

Ladies and gentlemen, there's a supermarket here called Spainsburys. Yes!

I'm loving Benidorm in the way that I love Los Angeles: you couldn't make it up, you wouldn't *want* to make it up, you certainly wouldn't want to live there.. but by jimminy it's good to know that it's there, honest and pure in its madness. It does exactly what you expect of it. It's *honest* in its horror.

The road to Benidorm looked like something out of Lord Of The Rings.

(El Campello, where I stayed a second night yesterday because I got the second night for free: not much to report. I rode back into Alicante. Frankly, after today, I've pretty much forgotten the place already.

It's only 20 miles or so behind me. I rode as slowly as I dared; stopped and enjoyed the colourful old fishing village at Villjoyosa; filled the tank.. and still the day's ride lasted all of half-an-hour.)

Beside the Seaside

In Which I Am Much Vexed By Snogging Pensioners

Comments

Leave your comment

Latest comments