Archive for the 'Europe' category
Jonathan and Tracy’s Trip to Spain, July 1998
July 10, 1998 10:07 amRecent events had left me feeling tired and drained…what I needed was a holiday. So into the travel agents I went, my mission: to find an all inclusive holiday as cheap as possible. And so I did. £289 for a week fully inclusive, for a holiday with a brochure price of £498. Beat that! I called my friend Tracy, who had some time off before starting work, and we talked it over and agreed to go.
We arrived at the airport excited and full of anticipation. We had no clue what sort of hotel we were going to, be we were guaranteed at least a 3*, and it was to be all inclusive. In the departure lounge, we encountered the first of many cases of British stupidity. Despite the sign saying “Please don’t queue until called, the Thicko Family had already been queuing for an hour, and held everybody up by arguing with the stewardess when their row wasn’t let on first, even thought their seats were already allocated. Like the plane was going to leave them behind if they weren’t first on…
The trip was quick and in the usual salubrious and opulent Monarch style, punctuated by what was described as a “meal”, the foil lid of which we peeled back, and coated our throats with some kind of primeval slop containing enough e-numbers and amino acid-type substances to start new life. In fact, I think it was already happening (I’m sure I heard a quiet “moo” from the shepherds pie).
We touched down at 2:30am to a cool early morning and took the short coach ride to our hotel, which was to be the Hotel Cambrils Playa, and a pleasant surprise it was. We were photographed for the our passport to unlimited food and drinks, and allowed to retire at about 4am to our beds. We managed our luggage without problem, but we had seek assistance in carrying the key fob upstairs (and yet we still managed to lose the key on several occasions!).
Breakfast started at 8am, but we didn’t manage to arrive until half past nine, by which time I held some concern over the scrambled eggs, as I was sure that if they managed to fight their way off the plate and hit the floor, which would surely chip some tiles. I have to point out that if you catch it early, breakfast is very good, although providing glasses no larger than thimbles to drink from simply meant that we had to load a tray up with glasses. Will these foreigners never learn?
We hit the pool, and managed to find a couple of sunbeds, and I went for a swim, which was to become a daily occurrence of 20 lengths at 7:45am, although no-one could quite understand why. It was a very big and clean pool, sullied only by great big fat greasy English whales, who managed to displaced most of the water when they eased their blubber gently in, accompanied by puffs of breathlessness and pre-heart-attack wheezing, their eyes transfixed on the snack-bar on the other side.
Which brings us nicely onto the all inclusive scheme. There was no time from 10am until 11pm that you couldn’t go and get some form of greasy snack, and the bar stayed open an hour longer. You simply sauntered up to the bar, handed in the card, and said “Dos agua por favor”. Well, more like “3 beers, two cheese toasties and a plate of chips, mate”. I did notice that they have an odd idea of what a hot dog is; and it’s not two limps frankfurters in a rock hard burger bun!
The welcome meeting was at 11am, where we were told a million ways to spend our money on Cosmos tours by two ladies called Debbie and Kerry. This is the point at which I learnt that I had gained two pieces of excess baggage; my Spanish phrase book and dictionary. We were in Catalonia!
We spent the rest of the day soaking up the sun, and in the evening we watched the entertainment, which was a live band, preceded by a kids disco with a clown. We later discovered that the clown single-handedly managed the needs of all 800 occupants, taking on everything from pool-cleaning to alarm calls to concierge in one 18 hour day!!
Thursday morning, and we decided to take advantage of some of the many sports provided, and hit the beach for a little windsurfing. We were warned that it was a little bit too windy for beginners, but that didn’t stop us making fools of ourselves trying to stand up for half an hour! We had booked a trip called Barcelona By Night for that afternoon, and at 2pm we boarded the coach. Our guide spoke fluently in at least 85 different languages, and left no landmark unmentioned on the hour and a half trip to Barcelona. Our itinerary was more than was mentioned in the brochure, and our first stop was the Barcelona Football Stadium. We joined the throngs of hardened football supporters, and spent the next 45 minutes wondering why people would pay to sit and look at a lawn. It was about as exciting as watching grass grow, and the coolness of the ice-rink proved too great a temptation.
Next was an informative drive round Barcelona, taking in the Olympic Stadium and some spectacular views over the city and port. We were then taken to the harbour, and given a while to wander off on our own. We wandered down to the pier, and took a look at some shops so expensive I felt I couldn’t even afford to look at my own reflection in the glass. Back across and into town again, all the time mindful of the gypsies we had been warned so strongly about (they have some cunning tactics up their little gypsy sleeves.) At this point we couldn’t fail to notice that everybody was beautiful. Not one fat bloke or ugly trog amongst them as we wandered into town. There were many street painters as in most cities, but I saw a new form using spray paints and newspaper to create amazing fantasy pictures, and I don’t mean two lesbians wrestling in a tub of jelly! These were like those computer generated fantasy world scenes, with blue trees, and orange planets looming large in a black sky, being created in front of our own eyes.
We rejoined the group and carried on to see the Church of the Holy Family a church still being rebuilt after being partially destroyed in the war, the main extraordinary feature of which is the architecture. One thing’s for sure; Gaudi (the architect) was popping some viagra at the time, although I thought a little bit arrogant that he should have Mary holding a shroud with an image of his face on! We dined at 8pm in a cheap and cheerful restaurant (a fiver for 2 courses and wine), and then headed off for the main attraction – the Barcelona fountains. These were just incredible, performing every quarter of an hour to pop and classical music, dancing with a rainbow of colours, and one of the displays is a fine mist that looks like coloured candyfloss.
At 11:30, we started our journey home, vowing one day to return to this amazing city for a little longer.
Friday morning we rose early again to visit Port Aventura, which describes itself as the biggest theme park in Europe. I’m not quite sure about the validity of this claim to fame, but it certainly had plenty to do and see, and we chose to hit a rollercoaster called Dragon Khan first. This is a pretty incredible ride, which sends your breakfast through several loops, helixes and other scary spinny type things that leave you shaking and wobbly and walking back to rejoin the queue, although it has to be said that there were hardly any queues, the longest one being 20 minutes for the log flume. We were currently in China, one of the five countries which make up Port Aventura, the others being Mexico, Polynesia, Far West and Mediterranean. Before leaving China, we saw the magic show, and left impressed by the last trick. Although we could work out most of the other illusions, the magician disappearing from under a cloth and re-appearing in the audience was effective and escaped my watchful eye.
We took in most of the other shows and rides on offer, and graced the wooden “racing” rollercoaster called Stampeda with our presence at least twice more! If you need a reason to diet while reading this, here’s one: on one trip to the Stampeda, there was one lady who held up proceedings while the staff tried to squash her into the chair, but eventually gave up and threw her off because she was too fat! I don’t know about diet…I’d just die!
One of the best shows was the bird show, where we saw trained birds and a talking parrots that could hold whole conversations, and even sing opera. Although the park took us a day as we drew it out a bit and hung around, for those wishing to see it on a budget, if you go after 7pm it is only the equivalent of about £7, less than half price (on the nights when the park stays open until midnight).
We caught a bus back to the hotel, and it was our initial intent to fall straight asleep, but the lure of free drinks proved to be our downfall. We started off sensibly, and got chatting to one of the other two couples that were there. The other couple was Fiona and Martin, who seemed there for a little bit of quiet romance, so we left them alone, but I’ll always remember Martin; he looked so much like Side-show Bob from the Simpsons when he had his glasses on that we had to be careful not to greet him with a hearty “Hi Sideshow” when we saw him. So our drinking partners turned out to be Zoe and Brian. We chatted and drank the night away, while the band played in the background, and all went well until we discovered the Sangria. After a while, Tracy made her rather wobbly excuses and left for bed or somewhere, and it wasn’t long after then that I got that horrible watery mouth sensation which means… “Any second now, you’re going to be praying to the porcelain God.” So I made my excuses and quickly made my way to the church of the china bowl and prayed.
I went back, and after a while we noticed that the band had stopped, the bar had closed and the people had gone. We staggered upstairs to find that our rooms were right next to each other. So we all piled into our room, 151, to finish drinking the drinks we had brought upstairs (a big no-no) , while Tracy decided to go and lay naked on the balcony in full view of 60 other balconies and flail her lags in the air laughing wildly, while Brian admired her depilatory skills. Eventually, Zoë and Brian went to their room, and for the next hour, all those who hadn’t puked yet took it in turns to rid their stomachs of the scourge of sangria.
Saturday morning came, and I walked the couple of miles into Salou to seek out some provisions such as flip-flops and suntan oil. A heatwave had started, and we took it nice and gently with some archery and crazy golf, which was made even crazier by the roughest surface ever, making it totally unplayable. We had intended to do some tennis too, but we were neither fit nor hardy enough to take on the heat or each others inability to play properly.
The afternoon was spent staying cool by the pool, and I learnt how to do front and backflip dives into the pool, while causing great amusement for those around me as I hit the water for the nth time with the crack and splash of a bad landing. Dinner came as always at 7:30, and we tucked gratefully into too much food which must be given some mention. Fresh crisp salads and the usual English dishes were complemented by at least two fish dishes including my favourite; calamari (fried battered squid rings). Oh….and chips. Of course, there was always one English idiot grumbling about the lack of variety, and in the same sentence saying “’ere mate, where’s the chips?”. Eat something different you philistine! Mind you, to half the people there, anything more than a bag of chips, a packet of fags and Eastenders on the TV would be a challenge.
We joined our new-found friends for a night trip to Salou, and got off at the fair which is a permanent fixture. Hands in pockets in order that our money should remain ours, we merged with the thronging crowds. It was just babe-city out there, matters made worse for the our girlies by the Miss Salou show taking place on the beach that night. Brian and myself stood transfixed while our eyes popped out of our heads, and then swapped with the girlies for the Mr Salou show! We wandered some more, and had an interesting 45 minute conversation with the owner of a café, although neither side ended up with any more idea than when we started, it was fun. I think.
Sunday was another lazy day, and a special dinner in the evening, with what looked like the world’s largest trifle. Monday morning, we rose early. You can’t head to the med. without doing a water park, and I was impressed with the last one I had gone to in Majorca. So, off to Aquopolis we headed. It was not something I’d really recommend if you have better things to do. It wasn’t bad as such, but little touches like not having to walk on the roughest most gravelly concrete ever would have been nice. And the worst thing was, it was salt water, which meant that our suncream stood no chance. That night we suffered, and I became known as Mister Blister, which was a real shame, because I was being so careful not to burn, and I have of course shed my skin since then. Again we joined Zoë and Brian in the evening, and were fascinated to learn that Brian has six nipples! Yes, really! It’s a one-in-a-hundred-million occurrence, and he even showed us to prove it. I asked if it was anything to do with us being only one gene away from pigs, but he just said “no”, grunted, and put his snout back in his swill.
Tuesday was sadly our last day there, and we had to be out of our rooms by ten in the morning. We weren’t leaving the hotel until 12:30 at night, and we could of course continue to use the card through the day. We went back to Salou for some souvenir shopping, and I bought a fascinating keying for a pound that had…well, anyway, it was what you’d expect! We spent most of the afternoon there, and then headed back. I was delighted to find that Karoake was the entertainment that evening, as it stops me from being my usual shy and retiring(!) self. The song lists were handed out, and I was the ONLY person out of 600 others that bothered to get up and blast out a number (I chose “New York, NewYork”). I got a big round of applause, but no-one else had the guts to get up and do it.
So half past midnight came, and 30 tired people boarded the coach back to the airport. We had to wait for the 3:45am flight which wasn’t much fun, but it was made up for by seeing the sun rise above the clouds. The temperature at Gatwick was 12oC, compared to the peak of 45oC we had in Spain. We collected our luggage, said our goodbyes to the two other couples, and left on our trains, tanned and tired.
