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Travel Writing

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Benidorm I peered down at the lush shrubbery surrounding the hotel and the bright blue pool. The look of pleasure plastered over people's faces was a joy to see, the tall elegant building towered over me... Then I lowered the brochure. I had been promised one of the top notch hotels in the whole of Benidorm yet here I was, greeted by a musky smell. It made the air misty and filled my nostrils with I smell that I can only describe as making me want to retch. A dingy looking council flat towered over me, literally. It seemed as though it was swaying to one side and about to fall flat on my face. So much for 'The perfect place to stay'. My eyes stung and my gaze swayed down towards my feet as I tried to heal my eyes of pain. I was welcomed by the smell again when I realised it was appearing from the floor. ...read more.


Taking in the smell of the salty water being rose by the hot sun. I looked around and people on scooters were appearing to have a death wish as they swerved in and out of the busy traffic taking silly little risks to get only about two cars in front. I looked back down towards the beach, here it was winter yet it was still warm, local people were walking alongside me tutting at the thought of the British being in their swimwear at such a 'cold' time of year. As I got nearer reaching the edge of the beach I was gazing upon a huge crowd gathered around a certain part of the sand. I edged closer and saw umbrellas towering over me; I squeezed through the mass of people to be taken away by the art in front of my eyes. A sculpture, made of only sand, of two mermaids sitting on stones was draped across the Spanish beach. ...read more.


I could here mumbled voices and saw a yellowy liquid with bits in it oozing through the crack between the bottom of the door and the floor. I tiptoed backwards and opened the door at arms length. There was something heavy against it. I dared open it more. A man who looked like he had passed out was laying half in my room and half out. Was he from this hotel? I called the office downstairs and someone said they would be up as soon as possible. The man started to move. I asked him his name and age. He was only 18 and called Pete on a lad's holiday and got lost. I was on the 4th floor; how did he get here? A man shouting in Spanish ran up towards me and took the man away. The cleaner cleaned what turned out to be vomit from under the door. I lay back down on the bed and looked at the ceiling. Another 9 days of this? I cried myself to sleep that night. ...read more.

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