The votes are in, and we're out!

 

During a couple of days of rain, we couldn’t summon up the enthusiasm to go out. We preferred being in Agy, she’s our home from home, and so very comfy and warm, when it's windy or wet.

However, as St Patrick's day approached, the crowds began to build, the place started to buzz and the vibrant shade of green began to be seen about the place. Some local shops literally removed almost all their other tat (sorry souvenirs/ clothing) and embraced the Irish ancestry apparently the whole of Benidorm professes to have. Of course Ian really can claim his Irish heritage having researched his family history.

We made the decision to go for it. Put on our green clothing and go out. But then Monday 17th March arrived. As we lay in bed that morning the rain was deafening. Agy is metal, and she knows how to announce a rainstorm! There are times we have to pause the smaller of our two  TVs as we have no chance of hearing it, and although generally we love the sound, at 2am, it can be less appealing.

As the day wore on I had to wash up, we’d used every bit of crockery and cutlery and so I dashed out during a brief respite and made it to the washing up area. There, a Dutch lady I often meet while doing the dishes - where we usually say hi and get on with the task in hand - was keen to ask me if I was English. And having established I was, she looked at me with an expression of total bewilderment and asked, “What is St Patrick’s day?” She and her husband had been into town and it was crazy there. She’d asked some of the people she met, but was none the wiser. I suspect they had had a few drinks by the time she was asking, so I quickly filled her in, explaining he was the Irish Patron Saint, and although you wouldn’t think it from the people celebrating in Benidorm, was actually the person who brought Christianity to Ireland and March 17th celebrates his death. I don’t think she could quite understand how the Catholic Saint related to the revellers she met.. 

Sprinting back to Agy; so my freshly washed dishes weren't swimming in a full bowl of rainwater, we decided the shop on site definitely a little too far to get fresh bread, so we raided the fridge for lunch, and made the decision it wasn’t going to be our night to go out. However, as a bit of motivation I thought I’d ask our friends on Facebook what we should do. These people are clearly a party animal bunch… or like to live vicariously through others, or maybe are just glad we too were having a bit of poor weather; as they (all bar one who made a most wonderful suggestion to stay in and listen to Val Doonican) voted for us to ‘put our big coats on and embrace the madness’. So we did. 

Thankfully, by the time we were ready to go out the rain had stopped and the wind had dried most of the puddles. We took a quick snap of us leaving Agy in the dark and ventured out.

As you walk from the campsite into town you pass the local dog park (a fab little area, all fenced in where doggie friends meet daily for a good sniff and bit of agility course competitiveness. It was ominously empty. The streets nearby were quiet.. Perhaps everyone else had decided to stay in.

How wrong can you be?

The welcome banner (and loud thumping music) as we made our way towards ‘The Strip’ gave us some indication of the fun and mayhem to follow. Within moments we were surrounded by revellers in green and orange, in sparkly skirts, incredible hats and everyone very much adopting the Irish Saint as their own.  

Some of our favourite spots were just too full, even for us, when it’s 10 deep in the road as the bar is full, it was a bit too much! We found a spot in a busy, but  not overfull bar called “The Brit Stop” (a London Underground Station themed bar), and settled in. The Guiness went down well and the party was in full swing.

I think the night can best be described by an encounter at the bar. There I was waiting my turn next to a lady celebrating her 50th birthday dressed as a Granny in a fab wig with rollers - a highly attractive outfit. She had the barman and I crying with laughter as she tried to negotiate paying with her bill with pound coins rather than Euros and couldn’t grasp why the barman wanted to return her money. It was goodhearted, funny, involved a fabulous costume, friends looking out for each other and totally bonkers conversations. 

There were numerous costumes, and we definitely felt underdressed, but the hats totally stole the night. We did at one point spot a man in a fab hat. I said to Ian, “Look at his hat! Do you think I could borrow it for a photo?” so off I popped to ask  - after all why wouldn’t you ask a stranger if you could have a selfie with their hat? He was more than happy to oblige, and before we knew it, Ian had one on too and here is the result!

They had purchased them from the “Carroll’s” department store in Dublin in anticipation of Paddys day.  We clearly hadn’t planned ahead enough!

The whole night was very good natured, there were plenty of very drunk people, in fact we spent a fair bit of time dodging wobbly legged groups of friends singing loudly, but we loved it!

As happens with all good night’s out it ended with a curry. Unfortunately, it turned out to be the worst curry we have ever had (we took this before starting!), but overall, a great night was had and we can tick off St Patrick’s day in Benidorm, one of the places it is apparently famous for being celebrated.