Showing posts with label benidorm. Show all posts
Showing posts with label benidorm. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 26, 2022

Getting out and about

I always say that it's a part of my cultural education to get out and about in Spain a bit. Getting out and about has several levels. If you consider that our house is a little island of Britishness then going to a bar and getting a coffee is a journey to Spain. It doesn't really matter whether the out and aboutness is big or small. Memorable things happen on the doorstep just as much as hundreds of kilometres away though, obviously, the reverse is also true!

Out and about can be villages and towns and cities and parks and castles and museums and hills and churches and, even if they fail you, your luck may be better in a restaurant with something that you've never heard of on the menu.

Out and about can be fiestas. Most countries have theatres, cinemas, museums, concerts, coastline, woodland, prehistoric sites and so on and most places have fiestas too. The Tar barl festival in Allendale in Northumberland, the one with the burning tar barrels on the head, is as barmy as anything you'll get in Spain. The big difference seems to be that Spain has these street based fiestas, often with an enormous back story, everywhere and all year round. When Coronavirus becomes just another of those viruses that we live with I'll be trying to persuade Maggie that we should go to see the Cascamorros in Baza and Guadix or the Noche en Vela in Aledo. Who knows we might even get up to Noche de las Animas in Soria or over to Manganeses de la Polvorosa in Zamora now that they've given up on tossing the goat from the church tower. Or maybe that one where they carry people around in coffins, oh, and the one where blokes dressed in rag clothing are pelted with turnips and there are so many with bonfires and demons that I could be kept happy for years. Or maybe just the Moors and Christians in Oliva or Ibi or Petrer will do for now.

One of the problems with digging out places to visit and things to do is that it's not easy to find out about them. Every time we go to Murcia city there seems to be something happening outside the cathedral that I knew nothing about. I wonder why. Much as I dislike it I spend a lot of time grinding through webpage after webpage trying to piece together fragments of information like a second rate Hercule Poirot. 

A good example of making an event as difficult as possible are the heats which will decide Spain's entry in this year's Eurovision Song Contest. If I manage to finish this blog today the first semi-final is this evening. Eurovision is quite a big thing here in Spain. It gets a fair bit of publicity because Spain is one of the "Big 5" - the permanent members of Eurovision along with France, Germany, Italy and the United Kingdom which means that the Spanish song gets into the final whatever its quality. Having made the investment the state broadcaster does its best to promote the event. Over the past few years Spain's showing in the competition has been abysmal. This year the TV company decided to make more of the process for choosing the song and to try harder to get decent representation. Entering a song was opened up to almost anyone who wanted to give it a crack. From all those entries an expert panel chose fourteen songs to go on to the next stage. There would be two semi final rounds and then a final to choose the Spanish entry. The rounds and the final would be live with an audience. The town they chose for the concerts was Benidorm. 

Now, as Benidorm is only just up the road, I thought we should go and have a look. I don't really care for Eurovision but an event is an event and with this new format I even knew a few of the bands or singers. The spread of styles is pretty impressive. At the last minute one of the acts pulled out because the Eurovision rules don't allow the use of Autotune, and as her song hinged around the robotic voice (a la Cher in Believe), that put paid to her chances. So, from the first moment that Benidorm Fest was mooted I started to look out for tickets. It's a long and tedious story about Covid restrictions and how the tickets were and were not made available. In the end the organisers distributed 500 tickets through a couple of organisations of EuroFans with another bundle handed out on a sort of "old boy" scheme amongst official organisations. No tickets for plebs like us. Maybe we will and maybe we won't watch it on the telly. I'm rooting for Rigoberta Bandini (in the photo), we saw her in Cartagena over the summer but the hot favourite is a song called Terra, a folky type song sung in Galician, by Tanxugueiras.

I think there's another sort of out and aboutness, though Maggie tells me that these are only events in my own distorted imagination. Have you eaten toñas? They look like rounded loaves. Their taste is basically of a sweetened bread. They're pretty typical around here. You'll often get them, served with hot chocolate, at the end of a performance of the local Pinoso group Monte de la Sal. There's a variant to the toña, more usual at Easter time, called a mona. The only difference, as far as I know, is that a mona has a hard boiled egg baked into the crown of the bun. As I did my weekly hunt for events I saw a post from Monóvar town Council reminding people that the toña season was upon us. The post, half denied to me because it was in Valenciano, talked about some tradition of eating monas every Thursday between now and Easter - apparently you need to dance and or sing at the same time. I seem to remember that someone from here in the village told me that in the "olden days," around Pinoso, in the three days after Easter week, people would sally out into the countryside armed with the toñas to do some serious picnicking. 

If you're wondering what this has to do with events you have to do a bit of lateral thinking. Because I've not lived here all my life these things are not just a part of my DNA. If these were British we'd be talking Easter egg hunts, addressing the haggis, getting a pint in the beer tent at the village fete or just setting out some laverbread for the visitors. Keeping a tradition alive. It seems to me that turning up in some field in Yecla at some ungodly hour to watch blokes cook gachamigas (those doughy pancakes made with just water, oil, salt and garlic) or walking alongside the romería, taking the Virgin of the Assumption out to Caballusa from Pinoso, complete with free coca in Casas de Pastor (no, different stuff!!) along the way, is much the same. When we lived over in Salamanca we ate hornazo, a sort of chunky meaty pie. The pie got a big boost in sales on the second Monday after Easter. At some time in the past that was the Monday when the Church let the prostitutes back across the River Agueda into the city after their banishment during Lent. The pie was to celebrate. 

There's a shop in Benidorm that sells hornazo. That's the Benidorm where we won't be going for the Eurovision heats but where a Vicars and Tarts party might seem absolutely appropriate.


Tuesday, February 11, 2020

Trying to get an ID card

In Spain you have to carry ID at all times. For Spanish nationals they have an identity card, the DNI and for foreigners there is a TIE, the Foreigner's Identity Card. EU citizens, within an EU country like Spain, are neither Nationals nor foreigners. This means that EU citizens have to carry the form of ID in use in their country. Now we Brits are a little odd in that we don't have an ID card so Brits are supposed to carry their passport with them at all times in case the "Competent Authority" needs to see it.

As well as the need to carry identification EU citizens, living in Spain, have to register. When the scheme was first introduced the registration certificate was a bit of green A4 paper but later it became smaller and more card like, something like the old UK paper driving licence.

A couple of weeks ago the UK left the European Union. Consequently the registration document became a bit of an anachronism for UK citizens. Nonetheless with the transition period, the limbo time, we're neither fish nor fowl. Quite what's going to happen is a bit moot. As everyone else in Spain carries ID then Britons are obviously going to have to do the same in time. There are a lot of us though, nearly 366,000, so if we all popped out to get our new ID between now and the end of the transition period it may all get a bit congested. Currently the idea is that the process for exchanging the green certificate for something more like the Spanish or Foreigners card, will be quick, cheap and easy.

Getting an appointment to go to one of the offices where ID cards and the like are handed out has become a bit of a problem. Most of the time it doesn't matter much to we (relatively) wealthy Brits, it's usually no more than a minor inconvenience. Not always though. It can sometimes make life very difficult even for we haves. For the have nots who need to rent a flat or find a job it can be disastrous.

The few weeks I spent in the Cub Scouts taught me to be prepared. I applied for an appointment back in November to get myself a new identity card appointment after the Brexit date. Clearly stating that I was British and I wanted the Foreigner's Identity Card, the TIE, I got an appointment. I'm not isolated though; I read the press, I have been keeping up to date with the Brexit information from the British and Spanish Governments as well as checking the Citizens Advice Bureau Spain stuff. I knew that the process wasn't going to be generally available on the date of my interview.

I came very close to cancelling the appointment. In the end I asked the Citizen's Advice people what they thought, expecting the answer to be that there wasn't a chance. What they actually said was along the lines of - you've got nothing to lose by having a bash, have a go and tell us how you get on.

I went, yesterday. The appointment was in Benidorm. The policeman on the front of house information desk was acting as gatekeeper asking all sorts of questions before allowing anyone to stay. I thought that was quite positive. He was turning away well over 75% of the people for being in the wrong office, not having an appointment or not having the basic documentation.

I got seen half an hour after my appointment time. I told another police officer what I was there for. He looked at the paperwork and said no. He reckoned it would be September before they started to process we Britons. It took him about 2 minutes to turn me away. I wasn't surprised, I wasn't shocked or angry. It was just a bit of a waste of time.

Hang on, let's say he's right and they get cracking on September 1. The end of the transition period is 31 December 2020. That's 121 days (we'll pretend there are no holidays or Sundays) so if there are 365,967 Britons resident in Spain my arithmetic says they will need to process 3,024 people a day.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Not looping the loop

Maggie was most definite in the manner in which she declined to go on the roller coaster that flipped people over and did barrel rolls. She kept reminding me about the Icelander who had died on a similar ride in the same park just a couple of months ago. Later though, by herself - I was too macho to join her - she went on the teen size roller coaster. Emboldened by her experience she agreed to go on the old style big dipper. All Billy Butlin at Skegness. Apparently built of criss crossing wood like the rail bridges in classic cowboy films and with sit up and beg cars. It rattled and shook, it rocked and rolled. Maggie didn't seem to enjoy it much.

She did enjoy the boat ride type roller coasters though and she let me go on one of those bungee jump type rides and the one that spins around a central pivot.

In fact we had a thoroughly enjoyable time at Terra Mitica theme park. The place is based on the motifs of Ancient Egypt, Greece and Rome. The park has an unhappy financial past. It was haemorrhaging money when I last heard. It certainly wasn't exactly bursting at the seams today and, in the afternoon, we hardly had to queue for rides. It's just outside Benidorm so it has a pretty international clientele but all day long we were generally treated in Spanish and served by Spaniards. The themes are pretty loose to be honest - the Lair of the Minotaur was a sort of ghost train and the Nile Falls or some such was the name of one of those boat rides. Maybe the big, old roller coaster was a Titan something or other. Food was expensive but acceptably so and the atmosphere was everything to everyone whoever you were. I'm sure that to the teenagers it seemed designed for them, the same for the families and at least one old codger felt perfectly at home.

It's the first time that I've actually been there when it has been open. I went to a Van Morrison concert (deadly dull) maybe eight or nine years ago but somehow I'd never eaten one of their burgers or drunk their coke since. 

Nice day out.

Monday, March 04, 2013

Back to Benidorm

It cost more this year. 15€ more to be precise. We set out earlier and I think we maybe got an extra meal. Otherwise it was very much the same. In Spanish style we stuck with what we know and went to the same hotel. Benidorm remains as unique as ever.

Maggie said the best part for her was in a bar with a motorbike/Hell's Angels theme and live music on the seafront. I think the bit I enjoyed most was when someone asked us if we wanted to go into a bar - free drink he said. He wasn't the first to ask nor was he the last but, for some reason, we went into his place and not the others. There was a group of girls on a hen party and later a bunch of blokes out for a stag night. They were all in fancy dress and it seemed a bit desperate as they tried, so hard, to have a good time in a tacky bar on a coolish evening in a quiet Benidorm. There was a bloke who took off his shirt maybe in the hope of attracting one of the girls with his six pack. Unfortunately for him any physical plus was nullified by the minus of his drink fuelled inability to walk.

On Sunday we crossed the whole length of town to the Gran Hotel Bali, until recently the tallest building in Benidorm and for many years the tallest building in Spain. There are four taller skyscrapers in Madrid now but Benidorm, amazingly, still has the most high-rise buildings per capita in the world. We intended to go to the observation floor of the tower but the cloudy day and the draw of the paid for school dinner quality food in our hotel were too much and we didn't make it. A treat for next time.

We were with the Culebrón Neighbourhood Association of course. Just like last year. Actually we didn't interact with our Spanish neighbours as much as last time because of our unwillingness to initiate conversations in Spanish so it wasn't really as interesting. We have nobody to blame but ourselves and we still had a good time.

Finally, a word of warning. The Benidorm City Bus Tour has to be one of the least informative tours in the world with, apparently, nothing of note along the whole length of the journey.

Monday, July 30, 2012

A nice evening in front of the telly

"Good evening, sir," said the Guardia Civil, "Alcohol test." Thus saying he passed me a mouthpiece sealed in cellophane which I cracked open before attaching it to his breath meter thingy. I blew into the machine - "Correct," said the Guardia. "You may proceed." And proceed I did. That's the second time I've been stopped for a random breath test in Spain.

It was about three in the morning and I was just joining the motorway to drive back to Culebrón. We'd been to the Low Cost Festival in Benidorm to see a few bands. I understand why the police were waiting. When we'd watched some of the early evening bands we had several acres of space around us and we were surrounded by nice people chatting gently. By the time we got to the bigger bands the space was less than that required for the proverbial cat and the crowd was a little more boisterous. By the time we watched Vetusta Morla at about 2am we had only Ryanair space and everyone seemed determined to crash into us, jump on our feet, cover us in beer or burn us with one of their strangely smelling cigarettes. This is very boring stuff when you are completely sober. I have no problem at all with the police keeping unsafe drivers off any road.

Whilst we were being suitably outraged by being jostled and bumped into I started to chuckle. Unlike the time we went to Benicassim a few years back I was definitely the oldest person I saw all evening. I must have been one of the few people on the whole site who did not need to use the keypad of my phone to communicate urgently with someone or upload a few snaps or videos. I could have given a lift to everyone else there who was, like me, wearing long trousers (that's an exaggeration, I've only got a four seater but if I'd had a people carrier...) and my Ramones T shirt came from a gig when Joey, Johnny and Dee Dee were all still alive.

I was chuckling because I was having a whale of a time. All those young people bouncing up and down. All those bands that sounded just like tens of bands that I've listened to over the years but which were still different. The way my whole body was vibrating with the sound. All that sustainable, eco friendly talk that still left stinking toilets and mounds of rubbish strewn around and a car park full of jostling vehicles of every shape and size including VW camper vans.

Maybe I should have been at home curled up with a good book and a nice cup of cocoa. No, not quite yet.

Monday, March 05, 2012

The day we went to Beni


Benidorm has to be one of the oddest towns in Spain. For a start it looks odd. Far too many tall buildings for your average Spanish town. It also seems to lack any sort of cultural life in the theatre and museum sense of the word. I'm sure that isn't true but as an average visitor all I saw were bars, restaurants, poundstretcher type shops and sex clubs. All of them had that sort of seedy, run down look reserved for brash seaside towns.

Benidorm feels oddly foreign too. Obviously the majority of businesses in a Spanish town dedicated to tourism are Spanish but there are so many British, German, Dutch and even Chinese businesses that it would be easy for any of the nationals of those countries to forget that they had left their homelands.

Benidorm was odd in another, much less quirky, way. At one point on Saturday night we were strolling along a pedestrianised street. There were bars on both sides and planted firmly in the middle of the street were muscly, shaven headed men. I presumed that they were under-employed bouncers being used as early evening leafleteers until the bars got going and their bouncerial skills were required. Every bar had some sort of offer - free shots with every beer, bargain pints of vodka and Red Bull, two for one deals etc. We'd been given a couple of leaflets as we strolled though I suppose for most of these places I was too old. They'd have me down as a customer for one of the bars with the other white haired men where María Jesús would be playing her accordion. But there was something wrong with the way the bouncers were standing; with their lack of movement. Maggie noticed it too. There was menace in the air and I'm still not sure whether it was from the bouncers themselves or because of what they were waiting for.

I can't remember the last time I felt threatened walking the streets of a Spanish town. Last night, in Benidorm, surrounded by signs for British Breakfasts, Scottish bars and roast beef dinners I did. A Spanish couple we talked to later commented on the same unease.

We were there, in Benidorm, with the people of Culebrón, with people from the Neighbourhood Association. Elena, who heads up the Association, had found a deal at a Benidorm hotel. For the princely sum of 27€ per person we got the coach ride from Culebrón to Benidorm and full board in one of the big Benidorm chain hotels for twenty four hours. It was the sort of hotel that has a featured dance band in one lounge and a music quizz in another. There was a two for one deal on most drinks too.

To be truthful we didn't do much except eat, drink and stroll for twenty four hours but that would be a majority pastime here. The weather was excellent, the room was good, the food was plentiful and we were made to feel very welcome. I had predicted disaster but I was wrong. It couldn't have gone much better.

Just one last observation. We left Culebrón at 4pm in the afternoon. It seemed odd to our British sensibility. Obviously, if we British are going somewhere we get up at the crack of dawn and try to get there before the shops open. Probably the timings were linked to whatever package the hotel was offering but none of our Spanish travelling companions thought that a late afternoon start was in the least odd. We'll be there in nice time for dinner they said.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

A bus to Benidorm

Back in November at the AGM of the Neighbourhood Association there was talk of going to Benidorm for a weekend. A couple of weeks ago that vague possibility turned into reality. I got the email. Were we coming?

Now the immediate and romantic answer is a resounding yes. Picture it; we two Brits taking our place as members of our adopted community, striding arm in arm with our compañeros down the prom in search of serious fun.

When I asked Maggie about it she was more realistic. You think it's a good idea now but, when it happens, you'll get cross because you have trouble with your Spanish. First you'll get cross with yourself, then you'll get cross with me and then you'll start sulking or drink too much and leave me to do all the talking. She's right of course. And, there's not that much serious fun to be had in Benidorm at this time of year anyway.

Today I got a second message from the vecinos. They needed a decision and they needed it now. There were lots of outsiders wanting to get on the coach. Proper community members got first dibs.

Of course we'll be there I said. Wouldn't miss it for the World I said.