Saturday, 17 December 2011
Spend, spend, spend
So apparently today was the last big shopping day before Christmas and Brits were set to spend £1.5million a minute.
It's easy to say this, and move on to the next fun Christmas story. But hang on - £1.5m PER MINUTE!!!!! That's obscene!
We're a nation in financial turmoil, we have a massive deficit, public services are being cut, people are struggling . Yet all this goes out the window when it come to good old Christmas! Sod it, let's just spend hey!
I have had it pointed out to me that spending is good for the economy, that we need to spend for growth to happen etc etc etc. and that may well be.
But my point isn't economical or financial - it's social. What on earth is going on where Christmas has become about nothing other than a crazed spending spree, an excuse to spend and hang the consequences. To borrow with no idea of how to pay it back? It's no wonder we're in the state we're in.
A rather wise person once told me my generation was a generation of "shopping and f***ing". His point was not necessarily literal, but more a modern day take on the idea of"fiddling while Rome burns", I think. That we can be surrounded by problems, whether they be financial, social, moral, the list goes on..yet what is far easier is not to worry about that, to just go shopping!
I think it probably is a fair thing to say - especially as a metaphor. Then again, maybe it's becoming the literal.
Apparently we have our £1.5m per minute today, and in the same week figures have shown children are having sex earlier and earlier. Some might draw the conclusion that we really are building a nation that spends its time "shopping and f***ing".
How sad.
Sunday, 4 December 2011
From Afghanistan to X Factor...
X Factor has sparked some views from me before here - and yes, it's doing so again. I'm a bit out of date, and feel slightly sad that a reality tv show has found its way into a blog entry on a much more important topic, but it's actually quite useful for trying to illustrate my point!
As Simon Cowell's moneyspinner's final gets closer, we're treated to the regular Sunday evening moment of long pauses from Dermot, tears in the eyes of judges, and contestants swearing that their life with be over if they don't get through. Of course, we all get swept up in this, me too. But I actually found myself a bit annoyed by it recently.
You see, I've just had the privilege to visit Afghanistan, to try to get an insight into what our troops our doing out there, and generally what the situation is.
I could write for hours about the general experience - the magnitude and surreality of Camp Bastion; life in a patrol base and how well looked after I was; journeying round Lashkar Gah supervised by personal G4S bodyguards. I could tell you about how surprisingly good the food is, how advanced some of the kit is, what it's like to ride in a Merlin helicopter or an American Osprey ( very exciting by the way!). I could go on, and on, and on. But it's the slightly deeper things, the things that seem a bit righteous and trite and cheesy, that stick in my head and that come to the forefront when you see the watery-eyed youngsters on the X Factor stage looking like it really is an issue of life or death.
Because when anyone's been to Helmand Province - whether it's a nobody like me, a politician, or a soldier, there's things that pop into your head when you see these wonderfully dramatic scenes. Some of them aren't even that obvious - but they're moments that make you stop, and think. Perhaps it's the brass plaques at Camp Bastion's vigil site, which list the name of every serviceman and woman who's died out there. Perhaps it's the helicopters flying into its hospital - the ones you know have injured or dead soldiers on.
It might be the look on some incredibly young servicemen's faces as they sit on the aircraft taking them to Afghanistan - the apprehension about what they'll see over the next six months, which friends they might lose. Even more impressively, it might be the professionalism and maturity of some of our guys out there - the teenagers who patrol the rural areas of Nad e-Ali, not only watching out for IEDs and insurgents, but bonding with the locals, giving children sweets, talking to local Afghans about threats, and taking the information back for intelligence. These are young men (and women) with their whole lives ahead of them, with less than 20 years experience of life itself, yet they are tackling this situation professionally, with humility, tact, and a maturity that is more than impressive. These young people have probably seen more than most of us in the way of difficult sights, they've made difficult decisions, they face unfathomable dangers. And yes - this all seems rather dramatic, and rather emotional - but they wouldn't have you know the extent of what they do. Ask them about what they do, and it's their "job". Ask them about the dangers they face, the losses they have seen, the time they spend away from their families, and they will say that is what they joined to do. They comprehend the importance of their role, they deal with the elation over successes, frustration over losses, and grief over deaths. And they get on with it.
Compare this, if you will, to the tears, the hysteria and the wailing we see on reality TV. And then take a second to wonder which is more important.
As Simon Cowell's moneyspinner's final gets closer, we're treated to the regular Sunday evening moment of long pauses from Dermot, tears in the eyes of judges, and contestants swearing that their life with be over if they don't get through. Of course, we all get swept up in this, me too. But I actually found myself a bit annoyed by it recently.
You see, I've just had the privilege to visit Afghanistan, to try to get an insight into what our troops our doing out there, and generally what the situation is.
I could write for hours about the general experience - the magnitude and surreality of Camp Bastion; life in a patrol base and how well looked after I was; journeying round Lashkar Gah supervised by personal G4S bodyguards. I could tell you about how surprisingly good the food is, how advanced some of the kit is, what it's like to ride in a Merlin helicopter or an American Osprey ( very exciting by the way!). I could go on, and on, and on. But it's the slightly deeper things, the things that seem a bit righteous and trite and cheesy, that stick in my head and that come to the forefront when you see the watery-eyed youngsters on the X Factor stage looking like it really is an issue of life or death.
Because when anyone's been to Helmand Province - whether it's a nobody like me, a politician, or a soldier, there's things that pop into your head when you see these wonderfully dramatic scenes. Some of them aren't even that obvious - but they're moments that make you stop, and think. Perhaps it's the brass plaques at Camp Bastion's vigil site, which list the name of every serviceman and woman who's died out there. Perhaps it's the helicopters flying into its hospital - the ones you know have injured or dead soldiers on.
It might be the look on some incredibly young servicemen's faces as they sit on the aircraft taking them to Afghanistan - the apprehension about what they'll see over the next six months, which friends they might lose. Even more impressively, it might be the professionalism and maturity of some of our guys out there - the teenagers who patrol the rural areas of Nad e-Ali, not only watching out for IEDs and insurgents, but bonding with the locals, giving children sweets, talking to local Afghans about threats, and taking the information back for intelligence. These are young men (and women) with their whole lives ahead of them, with less than 20 years experience of life itself, yet they are tackling this situation professionally, with humility, tact, and a maturity that is more than impressive. These young people have probably seen more than most of us in the way of difficult sights, they've made difficult decisions, they face unfathomable dangers. And yes - this all seems rather dramatic, and rather emotional - but they wouldn't have you know the extent of what they do. Ask them about what they do, and it's their "job". Ask them about the dangers they face, the losses they have seen, the time they spend away from their families, and they will say that is what they joined to do. They comprehend the importance of their role, they deal with the elation over successes, frustration over losses, and grief over deaths. And they get on with it.
Compare this, if you will, to the tears, the hysteria and the wailing we see on reality TV. And then take a second to wonder which is more important.
Tuesday, 30 August 2011
It's not just romance that ends in a broken heart....
We're all familiar with the songs, man or woman lamenting a broken heart. Soulful lyrics, maudlin' melodies discussing how hard it is that the person they loved has taken that love and thrown it back in their face. Bitterness, anger, despair, grief – all the emotions are there. And all the questions: where did it go wrong, what did I do wrong, why me?
And for most of us, we've probably been through that feeling at least once in our lives. Heartbreak is a crippling pain that may dull, but rarely retreats completely. It's always there, nagging in the background somewhere.
Yes, yes, so none of this is new. We know it's there, countless number ones have relied on the fact most of us have been through it.
But what is rarely spoken out, yet just as crushing, just as soul destroying, is when we have our hearts broken, not by a lover or a soulmate, but by a relative. These are the people we so often take for granted, who we assume should be “there” no matter what, the ones who will put up with our foibles and faults ad infinitum, and us them.
So what happens when they “finish things”? The realisation that someone has washed their hands of you, someone you thought would be there forever, is equally as crushing, no matter the connection.
Some might argue it's worse if it's family. It blindsides you, and it's unconventional – if you struggle to understand it, of course others will. Try explaining to someone that you're heartbroken because of the end of your relationship with you mother, father, sister, brother, child. It's an alien concept – far less people experience it than those who suffer the stereotype of heartbreak, and they will struggle to empathise with you.
And you'll struggle to understand it yourself. We're bombarded with films, music, novels, about romantic love and loss – how to mend a broken heart, how to find love again. Being rejected by someone you never ever expected to lose however, is less common. Oh they're out there; the stories, songs and series', but it's a struggle to convey, and to comprehend. We're conditioned to expect the possibility that relationships won't work out – but not relationships with family, the ones that are supposed to withstand any test. Those, we expect to survive anything, and when they don't, it's a tidal wave of emotion that completely knocks us for six.
But it happens, probably to more of us than we realise, when the efforts to heal the cracks fades, and the realisation sets in that it's over.
And how do you deal with it? I'm not sure “plenty more fish in the sea” applies in these cases. But one thing is similar, there's not much to be done other than try to deal with the pain and get on with things.
Perhaps the secret is to take nothing for granted. And no, blood isn't necessarily thicker than water......
And for most of us, we've probably been through that feeling at least once in our lives. Heartbreak is a crippling pain that may dull, but rarely retreats completely. It's always there, nagging in the background somewhere.
Yes, yes, so none of this is new. We know it's there, countless number ones have relied on the fact most of us have been through it.
But what is rarely spoken out, yet just as crushing, just as soul destroying, is when we have our hearts broken, not by a lover or a soulmate, but by a relative. These are the people we so often take for granted, who we assume should be “there” no matter what, the ones who will put up with our foibles and faults ad infinitum, and us them.
So what happens when they “finish things”? The realisation that someone has washed their hands of you, someone you thought would be there forever, is equally as crushing, no matter the connection.
Some might argue it's worse if it's family. It blindsides you, and it's unconventional – if you struggle to understand it, of course others will. Try explaining to someone that you're heartbroken because of the end of your relationship with you mother, father, sister, brother, child. It's an alien concept – far less people experience it than those who suffer the stereotype of heartbreak, and they will struggle to empathise with you.
And you'll struggle to understand it yourself. We're bombarded with films, music, novels, about romantic love and loss – how to mend a broken heart, how to find love again. Being rejected by someone you never ever expected to lose however, is less common. Oh they're out there; the stories, songs and series', but it's a struggle to convey, and to comprehend. We're conditioned to expect the possibility that relationships won't work out – but not relationships with family, the ones that are supposed to withstand any test. Those, we expect to survive anything, and when they don't, it's a tidal wave of emotion that completely knocks us for six.
But it happens, probably to more of us than we realise, when the efforts to heal the cracks fades, and the realisation sets in that it's over.
And how do you deal with it? I'm not sure “plenty more fish in the sea” applies in these cases. But one thing is similar, there's not much to be done other than try to deal with the pain and get on with things.
Perhaps the secret is to take nothing for granted. And no, blood isn't necessarily thicker than water......
Saturday, 2 July 2011
Emails and castles
Amidst pensions strikes, Greece's disaster, and ongoing problems in Libya, we have one of this week's biggest news stories - an email sent to a bride-to-be from her fiance's stepmother, criticising her manners, or apparent lack thereof, and generally causing a bit of a rucus.
Thanks to the speed with which emails can "go viral" these days, everybody knows and has an opinion on who is right or wrong in the saga. Should Carolyn Bourne have sent the sharp-tongued, harsh email to her stepson's fiancee Heidi Withers, or did Ms Withers in some way deserve it, if the way she is said to have behaved is true? The story's sparked a debate across the globe, and I guess we'll never know exactly what the truth is, as only that family knows the history, the behaviour, and the reasons behind this rather public argument.
But there was one line that seemed to stick out to me - perhaps not in the delivery, nor completely in the sentiment, but for the underlying issue it seems to raise. Mrs Bourne suggests to Ms Withers that the couple should not hanker after a celebrity-style wedding in a castle, but perhaps "have a modest wedding as befits both (their) incomes". Wow, what a controversial thing to say. With the average cost of weddings at at least £20,000, with people inspired by the excesses of the rich and famous, it seems a "modest wedding" that befits your income is the last thing on anyone's mind.
Weddings for many in our generation are no longer about the concept of marriage, it seems to me. In fact planning for a lifetime together is pretty low on the agenda when there's a huge party to outdo all parties to be planned. There's the dress, it's got to be as great as Kate's, but not an obvious copy, a venue that will be the envy of all your friends, food to die for, a guest list that includes absolutely ALL of your Facebook friends, whether you can afford it or not, and of course a party that people talk about for decades to come. After organising all of this, sparing no expense, the commitment part is just a given - not something to be thought about, taking account of, given real time and effort to - it's just a small part of a complex military operation.
Yes yes, this is all rather cynical, I know. Not everyone's like that, how could I say that! But Ms Withers' desire to get married in a castle (apparently, of course we only have Mrs Bourne's word for it) despite (again apparently) not being able to afford it, is a fairly good example of this.
Of course, a bride's day is supposed to be one of the most special of her life (I wouldn't know, haven't got that one down yet!), but surely the special part is supposed to be committing to the person you love, to sticking with them through thick and thin and trying your damndest to make it work, even when times are hard. Not spending tens of thousands of pounds you don't have just to throw a party that is the envy of all your friends.
Maybe I'm just old-fashioned, but even if much of what she says is cruel, unnecessarily critical and potentially untrue, I think on this one small part Mrs Bourne may have a point.
We all take great delight in mocking the travellers on My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding for their need for the "biggest" and the "best" - but are the rest of us any better?
Thanks to the speed with which emails can "go viral" these days, everybody knows and has an opinion on who is right or wrong in the saga. Should Carolyn Bourne have sent the sharp-tongued, harsh email to her stepson's fiancee Heidi Withers, or did Ms Withers in some way deserve it, if the way she is said to have behaved is true? The story's sparked a debate across the globe, and I guess we'll never know exactly what the truth is, as only that family knows the history, the behaviour, and the reasons behind this rather public argument.
But there was one line that seemed to stick out to me - perhaps not in the delivery, nor completely in the sentiment, but for the underlying issue it seems to raise. Mrs Bourne suggests to Ms Withers that the couple should not hanker after a celebrity-style wedding in a castle, but perhaps "have a modest wedding as befits both (their) incomes". Wow, what a controversial thing to say. With the average cost of weddings at at least £20,000, with people inspired by the excesses of the rich and famous, it seems a "modest wedding" that befits your income is the last thing on anyone's mind.
Weddings for many in our generation are no longer about the concept of marriage, it seems to me. In fact planning for a lifetime together is pretty low on the agenda when there's a huge party to outdo all parties to be planned. There's the dress, it's got to be as great as Kate's, but not an obvious copy, a venue that will be the envy of all your friends, food to die for, a guest list that includes absolutely ALL of your Facebook friends, whether you can afford it or not, and of course a party that people talk about for decades to come. After organising all of this, sparing no expense, the commitment part is just a given - not something to be thought about, taking account of, given real time and effort to - it's just a small part of a complex military operation.
Yes yes, this is all rather cynical, I know. Not everyone's like that, how could I say that! But Ms Withers' desire to get married in a castle (apparently, of course we only have Mrs Bourne's word for it) despite (again apparently) not being able to afford it, is a fairly good example of this.
Of course, a bride's day is supposed to be one of the most special of her life (I wouldn't know, haven't got that one down yet!), but surely the special part is supposed to be committing to the person you love, to sticking with them through thick and thin and trying your damndest to make it work, even when times are hard. Not spending tens of thousands of pounds you don't have just to throw a party that is the envy of all your friends.
Maybe I'm just old-fashioned, but even if much of what she says is cruel, unnecessarily critical and potentially untrue, I think on this one small part Mrs Bourne may have a point.
We all take great delight in mocking the travellers on My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding for their need for the "biggest" and the "best" - but are the rest of us any better?
My first festival experience
As someone who isn't much of a hardcore "rocker" and likes my creature comforts, spending a weekend camping in a mudbath, using horrible toilets, and seeing music that's very cool yet knowing very little of it, has never been top of my list.
But, having always stuck with the mantra that you should try everything once before you knock it, I realised I couldn't really pass judgement on this festival experience everyone raves about without trying it for myself. And with the scary 30 fast approaching, this year seemed the right year to take the plunge.
First observations - Glastonbury is HUUUUGGE! Far biggerin reality that you can even begin to grasp from either what you're told, or what you see on the TV. The walk from your car to the campsite is long, gruelling even. The campsite itself is a sea of tents, crammed so close you can hear your neighbour breathing, let alone snoring. The mud, well, there aren't really any words, and the toilets, need I say more.
But all these things fade into insignificance once you start to embrace what Glastonbury is all about. Some may bemoan the fact it has changed - the small festival started by Michael Eavis in 1970 when entry was just £1 including free milk from the farm. Some say the hippy atmosphere has been lost to the commercial behemoth Glastonbury has become; the small acts replaced by huge headliners. And yes, as I said above, it's HUGE. The acts are massive - who would have thought a diva like Beyonce would take centre-stage at an event like this, that mainstream pop-lovers would be able to party alongside the hippies, rockers, and uber-cool people who know exactly which band is going to soar to worldwide fame before the band knows it themselves?
But this is the beauty of Glastonbury. It has changed with the times - it's cool but inclusive.
There may have been a time when a top-40 lover like me would have felt out of place, uncool, and just not suited to Glastonbury. But the fact there's so much, something for everyone, means that whilst changing, people can enjoy five days of fun no matter what they're in to. It means Glastonbury is, as it always has been, somewhere where everyone can join in. Nobody's left out of music choices or entertainment, which means it keeps its charm.
Large it may be - I realised I saw so little in the time I was there it was shameful - but there's still hippy stalls, areas to sit and while away the hours. There's still the focus on environmental awareness, Greenpeace is a huge presence, and we're all reminded of the roots of Michael Eavis' creation.
Some people who remember Glasto how it was "back in the day" feel they have lost the festival they fell in love with. But for newcomers like me, the evolving Glastonbury is what keeps it alive. The way it is changing will keep it a popular event, will mean people keep listening to the messages that are still there deep down, and keep listening to the musicians whose work is given an airing to one of the biggest audiences of the year. And it means people like me, more S Club than supercool, feel they can go and join in, without being left out in the cold by all the cool cats out there!
But, having always stuck with the mantra that you should try everything once before you knock it, I realised I couldn't really pass judgement on this festival experience everyone raves about without trying it for myself. And with the scary 30 fast approaching, this year seemed the right year to take the plunge.
First observations - Glastonbury is HUUUUGGE! Far biggerin reality that you can even begin to grasp from either what you're told, or what you see on the TV. The walk from your car to the campsite is long, gruelling even. The campsite itself is a sea of tents, crammed so close you can hear your neighbour breathing, let alone snoring. The mud, well, there aren't really any words, and the toilets, need I say more.
But all these things fade into insignificance once you start to embrace what Glastonbury is all about. Some may bemoan the fact it has changed - the small festival started by Michael Eavis in 1970 when entry was just £1 including free milk from the farm. Some say the hippy atmosphere has been lost to the commercial behemoth Glastonbury has become; the small acts replaced by huge headliners. And yes, as I said above, it's HUGE. The acts are massive - who would have thought a diva like Beyonce would take centre-stage at an event like this, that mainstream pop-lovers would be able to party alongside the hippies, rockers, and uber-cool people who know exactly which band is going to soar to worldwide fame before the band knows it themselves?
But this is the beauty of Glastonbury. It has changed with the times - it's cool but inclusive.
There may have been a time when a top-40 lover like me would have felt out of place, uncool, and just not suited to Glastonbury. But the fact there's so much, something for everyone, means that whilst changing, people can enjoy five days of fun no matter what they're in to. It means Glastonbury is, as it always has been, somewhere where everyone can join in. Nobody's left out of music choices or entertainment, which means it keeps its charm.
Large it may be - I realised I saw so little in the time I was there it was shameful - but there's still hippy stalls, areas to sit and while away the hours. There's still the focus on environmental awareness, Greenpeace is a huge presence, and we're all reminded of the roots of Michael Eavis' creation.
Some people who remember Glasto how it was "back in the day" feel they have lost the festival they fell in love with. But for newcomers like me, the evolving Glastonbury is what keeps it alive. The way it is changing will keep it a popular event, will mean people keep listening to the messages that are still there deep down, and keep listening to the musicians whose work is given an airing to one of the biggest audiences of the year. And it means people like me, more S Club than supercool, feel they can go and join in, without being left out in the cold by all the cool cats out there!
Monday, 20 June 2011
The wonderful world of university these days...
I was recently asked to help a young person in their decision of what to study at university.
Of course, they're only 17 but are being told that they need to decide their future RIGHT NOW, THIS MINUTE. All rather scary for little old me, who didn't stumble upon my passion, and career path, until halfway through my university career!
Needless to say, the reason she asked me for help is because this student is considering journalism as a possible career path. She's not sure, and she doesn't know what kind, what medium, or even if she'll like it, but she wants to have a look at the wonderful world of the media to see if it's something that brings out her passion, drive, and success.
The problem is, nothing's that simple anymore. When I went to university, a mere 10 years ago, journalism courses were few and far between. In fact, the best advice people could give was to go to university and study a good old-fashioned subject like English or history - something you enjoy, the rest will come later.
Now though, it seems you can get a degree in anything. There's not just journalism on offer, there's broadcast journalism, print journalism, sports journalism and .... hold it ..... celebrity journalism!!!! Forgive the rant, but the next generation of hacks will not have learnt their trade on local papers, sitting in council meetings, doing vox pops, covering local elections. No, they will have spent three years - THREE YEARS - studying the art of "celebrity journalism". Don't get me wrong, I'm all for education, and studying, and learning from university, but is it not an incredible indictment on the world that we live in, that we're going to watch a whole generation of teenagers get into tens of thousands of pounds of debt in university fees, in the name of a course entitled Celebrity Journalism.
I might have to stop there...just can't quite get my head around it!
Of course, they're only 17 but are being told that they need to decide their future RIGHT NOW, THIS MINUTE. All rather scary for little old me, who didn't stumble upon my passion, and career path, until halfway through my university career!
Needless to say, the reason she asked me for help is because this student is considering journalism as a possible career path. She's not sure, and she doesn't know what kind, what medium, or even if she'll like it, but she wants to have a look at the wonderful world of the media to see if it's something that brings out her passion, drive, and success.
The problem is, nothing's that simple anymore. When I went to university, a mere 10 years ago, journalism courses were few and far between. In fact, the best advice people could give was to go to university and study a good old-fashioned subject like English or history - something you enjoy, the rest will come later.
Now though, it seems you can get a degree in anything. There's not just journalism on offer, there's broadcast journalism, print journalism, sports journalism and .... hold it ..... celebrity journalism!!!! Forgive the rant, but the next generation of hacks will not have learnt their trade on local papers, sitting in council meetings, doing vox pops, covering local elections. No, they will have spent three years - THREE YEARS - studying the art of "celebrity journalism". Don't get me wrong, I'm all for education, and studying, and learning from university, but is it not an incredible indictment on the world that we live in, that we're going to watch a whole generation of teenagers get into tens of thousands of pounds of debt in university fees, in the name of a course entitled Celebrity Journalism.
I might have to stop there...just can't quite get my head around it!
Thursday, 2 June 2011
A very late update of an amazing trip.....
Posing for photos with my loved one in the middle of a cascading waterfall, surrounded by lush forest while tiny fish glide around us in the cool water, it almost feels like a movie set.
Gone is the sunburn and concerns over whether we’ve got enough insect spray – instead the water splashing into the pool proves the perfect antidote to the hot Jamaican sun.
That moment seemed a million miles from the stereotypical holiday to Jamaica we had been slightly wary of, full of Rastas and rum and Bob Marley at every turn.
The trip to the YS Falls was just one of the excursions we could take on our trip from the Sandals Whitehouse resort on the south of the island, and a great way of seeing something other than the pristine white-sand beaches and azure blue sea.
Part of the Land of Wood and Water tour, my partner and I started our day with a trip down the Black River, taking in the flora and fauna, particularly the crocodiles basking regally in the sun, unperturbed by passing tourists and boats.
After a few hours of education, we were whisked off for lunch – Jerk chicken of course - followed by the falls themselves. Transported in the most rustic of ways, by a tractor-towed trailer, you’re greeted by the spectacular view of the cascading falls. At their foot, natural water pools have been landscaped making them super user-friendly, while you’re more than welcome to wander up the path alongside the falls, stopping at dip pools and rope swings to enjoy the fresh, cool water. Guides will help you up, and take pictures for you – for a small tip of course.
These sights are both an easy drive from Sandals Whitehouse, based on the south side of the island. The Caribbean-based chain aimed at couples has several resorts in Jamaica but Whitehouse sits on its own, miles from anywhere, bringing you pretty much everything you could want.
If you’re used to average all-inclusives, with just one large buffet hall and sugar-high children looking for the next free drink or meal, with guests packed round one, huge pool, this is something that is world’s apart.
Sandals doesn’t even call itself all-inclusive – the company claims to have created its own niche brand of “luxury-included”. This is all-inclusive with style – branded drinks, nice food, and everything – absolutely everything – at the resort included.
It all starts with the arrival. Popstar or pipe-fitter, celebrity or student, you really do get five-star treatment, from a welcome cocktail as you enter the extravagant lobby to a cool towel to mop your brow.
The resort is split into three “villages” - Italian, Dutch and French – ironically the whole theme of Whitehouse is European – it may seem strange to us Europeans, but it a great treat for the hordes of Americans and Canadians who hop down to Jamaica for their holidays.
Rooms all look out onto the stunning two-mile white sand beach. Don’t worry about being pestered by people as you sun yourself – this beach is just for the resort, lending itself to the impression you really are a million miles away from home.
Not ones to do beach holidays, we were slightly nervous about the prospect of boredom with nothing but sand to entertain us. How wrong we were! Keen on our watersports, we’ve often been stung by the extra prices for things like scuba diving, water-skiing, and sailing. But with everything included, imagine the joy of having the option of diving twice-a-day, every day, if we wanted to. Certified divers can literally just book a spot, pick up the kit, and go for an underwater adventure. And if you’ve never done it before there’s options of “resort qualifications” or doing all the certification while you’re there.
As if this wasn’t enough excitement, Jamie had the chance to waterski whenever he wanted, while we also tried our hand at sailing on small catamaran “Hobie Cats”.
Not to leave the land-lubbers out, there’s tennis, a gym, squash courts, and activities laid on through the day. And of course, if you just want a lie-down, there’s two pools, a Jacuzzi pool, the big blue sea, and the beach as far as you can see.
And when all the diving, swimming and doing nothing works up an appetite, it’s hard to know where to turn. Forget one, huge buffet hall serving lukewarm, dried up fare. Here you’re spoilt for choice - for lunch there’s the Italian restaurant on the piazza, Caribbean cuisine on the beach, the buffet if you so desire, or even the “jerk pit” – mounds of jerk pork and chicken, served in a basket with a doorstop of bread and a dollop of hot chilli sauce. Perfect when washed down with a Miami Vice cocktail (my new-found favourite!) - pina colada and strawberry daiquiri mixes with a generous slug of rum!
In the evenings, we struggled to try every restaurant in the one week we had. You can tour the world through food on offer: Italian, Asian, seafood, and Eleanors – Whitehouse’s white-gloved Caribbean fine –dining restaurant. If this isn’t enough, there is a buffet, with fresh salads, cooked-on-the-spot stir fries, and even lobster some nights. And then, yes there’s more, the weekly parties – a beach party with more food than I’ve ever seen, as well as a late night chocolate buffet for us with a sweet tooth.
With no kids around, Sandals definitely has an adult element, most noticeable in its nightlife. It’s a strange feeling quaffing martinis in a bar without having to hand over a penny – needless to say, we didn’t mind it being our round! There’s piano singalongs (massively popular with the Americans), a Cabaret bar with laid-on entertainment, or an outside bar where you can just wile away the hours with a cocktail listening to the sea lapping the beach. Of course, there’s nothing to stop you taking a wander down the sand for an added touch of romance.
We all know we’re in tough times economically, across the globe. But it seems a lot of us just won’t give up their holidays – maybe we all need a bit of cheering up. Sandals Whitehouse boasted a 97% occupancy rate when we were there, with similar figures expected throughout its summer season. And despite its near-full rates, there wasn’t one fight for a sun-lounger or space on the beach that I saw – must be down to clever designing, but it just didn’t feel too packed, an all-important feature when you’re looking for a bit of luxury.
And there’s even room to take it up a peg for those special occasions.Weddings, designed with the help of expert Martha Stewart, are big business at Sandals, as are honeymoons, and the emphasis on romance is clear for all to see. I have to confess to a few moments of wondering if a ring was going to be produced, but no, those romantic moments will just have to be remembered as special treats rather than life-changing questions. Needless to say, it would be churlish to complain about a candlelit dinner on the beach, with a private butler and just the two of us to enjoy the picture-perfect setting, or a couple’s massage in Sandals’ own Red Lane Spa.
Of course, the holiday and the extras themselves aren’t cheap – there’s no such thing as a free lunch and all that. But it all depends on what price you put on transforming yourself from normality to the extravagant, celeb life you always thought you deserved. So just think about it, next time you’re looking enviously at the set on that latest blockbuster. It could all be yours…..
Gone is the sunburn and concerns over whether we’ve got enough insect spray – instead the water splashing into the pool proves the perfect antidote to the hot Jamaican sun.
That moment seemed a million miles from the stereotypical holiday to Jamaica we had been slightly wary of, full of Rastas and rum and Bob Marley at every turn.
The trip to the YS Falls was just one of the excursions we could take on our trip from the Sandals Whitehouse resort on the south of the island, and a great way of seeing something other than the pristine white-sand beaches and azure blue sea.
Part of the Land of Wood and Water tour, my partner and I started our day with a trip down the Black River, taking in the flora and fauna, particularly the crocodiles basking regally in the sun, unperturbed by passing tourists and boats.
After a few hours of education, we were whisked off for lunch – Jerk chicken of course - followed by the falls themselves. Transported in the most rustic of ways, by a tractor-towed trailer, you’re greeted by the spectacular view of the cascading falls. At their foot, natural water pools have been landscaped making them super user-friendly, while you’re more than welcome to wander up the path alongside the falls, stopping at dip pools and rope swings to enjoy the fresh, cool water. Guides will help you up, and take pictures for you – for a small tip of course.
These sights are both an easy drive from Sandals Whitehouse, based on the south side of the island. The Caribbean-based chain aimed at couples has several resorts in Jamaica but Whitehouse sits on its own, miles from anywhere, bringing you pretty much everything you could want.
If you’re used to average all-inclusives, with just one large buffet hall and sugar-high children looking for the next free drink or meal, with guests packed round one, huge pool, this is something that is world’s apart.
Sandals doesn’t even call itself all-inclusive – the company claims to have created its own niche brand of “luxury-included”. This is all-inclusive with style – branded drinks, nice food, and everything – absolutely everything – at the resort included.
It all starts with the arrival. Popstar or pipe-fitter, celebrity or student, you really do get five-star treatment, from a welcome cocktail as you enter the extravagant lobby to a cool towel to mop your brow.
The resort is split into three “villages” - Italian, Dutch and French – ironically the whole theme of Whitehouse is European – it may seem strange to us Europeans, but it a great treat for the hordes of Americans and Canadians who hop down to Jamaica for their holidays.
Rooms all look out onto the stunning two-mile white sand beach. Don’t worry about being pestered by people as you sun yourself – this beach is just for the resort, lending itself to the impression you really are a million miles away from home.
Not ones to do beach holidays, we were slightly nervous about the prospect of boredom with nothing but sand to entertain us. How wrong we were! Keen on our watersports, we’ve often been stung by the extra prices for things like scuba diving, water-skiing, and sailing. But with everything included, imagine the joy of having the option of diving twice-a-day, every day, if we wanted to. Certified divers can literally just book a spot, pick up the kit, and go for an underwater adventure. And if you’ve never done it before there’s options of “resort qualifications” or doing all the certification while you’re there.
As if this wasn’t enough excitement, Jamie had the chance to waterski whenever he wanted, while we also tried our hand at sailing on small catamaran “Hobie Cats”.
Not to leave the land-lubbers out, there’s tennis, a gym, squash courts, and activities laid on through the day. And of course, if you just want a lie-down, there’s two pools, a Jacuzzi pool, the big blue sea, and the beach as far as you can see.
And when all the diving, swimming and doing nothing works up an appetite, it’s hard to know where to turn. Forget one, huge buffet hall serving lukewarm, dried up fare. Here you’re spoilt for choice - for lunch there’s the Italian restaurant on the piazza, Caribbean cuisine on the beach, the buffet if you so desire, or even the “jerk pit” – mounds of jerk pork and chicken, served in a basket with a doorstop of bread and a dollop of hot chilli sauce. Perfect when washed down with a Miami Vice cocktail (my new-found favourite!) - pina colada and strawberry daiquiri mixes with a generous slug of rum!
In the evenings, we struggled to try every restaurant in the one week we had. You can tour the world through food on offer: Italian, Asian, seafood, and Eleanors – Whitehouse’s white-gloved Caribbean fine –dining restaurant. If this isn’t enough, there is a buffet, with fresh salads, cooked-on-the-spot stir fries, and even lobster some nights. And then, yes there’s more, the weekly parties – a beach party with more food than I’ve ever seen, as well as a late night chocolate buffet for us with a sweet tooth.
With no kids around, Sandals definitely has an adult element, most noticeable in its nightlife. It’s a strange feeling quaffing martinis in a bar without having to hand over a penny – needless to say, we didn’t mind it being our round! There’s piano singalongs (massively popular with the Americans), a Cabaret bar with laid-on entertainment, or an outside bar where you can just wile away the hours with a cocktail listening to the sea lapping the beach. Of course, there’s nothing to stop you taking a wander down the sand for an added touch of romance.
We all know we’re in tough times economically, across the globe. But it seems a lot of us just won’t give up their holidays – maybe we all need a bit of cheering up. Sandals Whitehouse boasted a 97% occupancy rate when we were there, with similar figures expected throughout its summer season. And despite its near-full rates, there wasn’t one fight for a sun-lounger or space on the beach that I saw – must be down to clever designing, but it just didn’t feel too packed, an all-important feature when you’re looking for a bit of luxury.
And there’s even room to take it up a peg for those special occasions.Weddings, designed with the help of expert Martha Stewart, are big business at Sandals, as are honeymoons, and the emphasis on romance is clear for all to see. I have to confess to a few moments of wondering if a ring was going to be produced, but no, those romantic moments will just have to be remembered as special treats rather than life-changing questions. Needless to say, it would be churlish to complain about a candlelit dinner on the beach, with a private butler and just the two of us to enjoy the picture-perfect setting, or a couple’s massage in Sandals’ own Red Lane Spa.
Of course, the holiday and the extras themselves aren’t cheap – there’s no such thing as a free lunch and all that. But it all depends on what price you put on transforming yourself from normality to the extravagant, celeb life you always thought you deserved. So just think about it, next time you’re looking enviously at the set on that latest blockbuster. It could all be yours…..
Michelle Obama - a great role model
The last time the Obamas came to the UK, in 2009, I was lucky enough to report on Michelle Obama's visits - one to a Maggie's Cancer Care Centre in London, and the other to the Elizabeth Garrett Anderson School in Islington. I remember then hearing her speak to young girls at the school where many pupils speak English as a second language. She told them the world needed strong young women to pave the way for the future, and told them: "We are counting on every single one of you to be the best you can be!"
That speech moved everyone in the room, and I guarantee would have had a lasting effect on those girls.
And the best part is, the First Lady didn't leave it just there. She's apparently kept in touch with the school, having pupils over to the Whitehouse, and last week she took some to Oxford University for a visit. And if we were thinking she'd struggle to follow her first speech, there were no worries there.
There's something about the way Michelle Obama speaks that surely doesn't just keep me riveted, but must have the same effect on people, young and old, everywhere. There is an honesty and straightforwardness, and a way of expressing things with thought and feeling without seeming like spin, or a pre-rehearsed set of soundbites.
At Oxford University, Mrs Obama echoed her inspiring words of 2009, telling the girls it doesn't matter about their background.
"Success is not about the background you are from, it's about the confidence you have and the effort you are willing to invest...
"You just have to work hard...you just have to push yourselves. This doesn't come easy for anyone."
Those words should serve to inspire all of us - whether we're 13 or 30. It is easy to think our own path is predetermined, that there is little we can do to change it. And in a country where the gap between the richest and the poorest seems ever-widening, where some people can afford a £19 milllion pad in Kensington, while the average person can't afford 173 square feet, the world can seem an unfair and uninspiring place.
But for the time that she speaks, Michelle Obama manages - for me at least, and I'm sure many others - to inject hope that anything is possible, a hope we all need to be reminded of sometimes.
And she speaks from experience: when she tells people not to be guided by their background, the lady who grew up in the south side of Chicago but managed to get to both Princeton University and Harvard Law School means what she says. She speaks of well-meaning people suggesting she may not have fitted in, that it may not have been a good idea, but she listened to their advice then chose not to take it. And now look at her - successful in her own right, as well as being married to potentially the most powerful man in the world.
Regardless of whether you are pro or anti-American, whether you agree with Obama's politics or not, the world does not have enough Michelle Obamas. There are not enough women who will stand up and tell young people (and even older people) to stand up, grab life with both hands, and do anything they want to. She never says it will be easy - "hard work" is a phrase well-used by Mrs Obama - but it is always possible. And perhaps with more people inspiring us, and our youth, in that way, we could see a new generation of people who think anything is possible, a generation of hope where the majority think that we can change the world we live in for the better, rather than relying on a minority to do the job.
Keep going Michelle, even if you just convert a few more people each time you speak, that's got to help. We need more people like you in this world, so bravo!
That speech moved everyone in the room, and I guarantee would have had a lasting effect on those girls.
And the best part is, the First Lady didn't leave it just there. She's apparently kept in touch with the school, having pupils over to the Whitehouse, and last week she took some to Oxford University for a visit. And if we were thinking she'd struggle to follow her first speech, there were no worries there.
There's something about the way Michelle Obama speaks that surely doesn't just keep me riveted, but must have the same effect on people, young and old, everywhere. There is an honesty and straightforwardness, and a way of expressing things with thought and feeling without seeming like spin, or a pre-rehearsed set of soundbites.
At Oxford University, Mrs Obama echoed her inspiring words of 2009, telling the girls it doesn't matter about their background.
"Success is not about the background you are from, it's about the confidence you have and the effort you are willing to invest...
"You just have to work hard...you just have to push yourselves. This doesn't come easy for anyone."
Those words should serve to inspire all of us - whether we're 13 or 30. It is easy to think our own path is predetermined, that there is little we can do to change it. And in a country where the gap between the richest and the poorest seems ever-widening, where some people can afford a £19 milllion pad in Kensington, while the average person can't afford 173 square feet, the world can seem an unfair and uninspiring place.
But for the time that she speaks, Michelle Obama manages - for me at least, and I'm sure many others - to inject hope that anything is possible, a hope we all need to be reminded of sometimes.
And she speaks from experience: when she tells people not to be guided by their background, the lady who grew up in the south side of Chicago but managed to get to both Princeton University and Harvard Law School means what she says. She speaks of well-meaning people suggesting she may not have fitted in, that it may not have been a good idea, but she listened to their advice then chose not to take it. And now look at her - successful in her own right, as well as being married to potentially the most powerful man in the world.
Regardless of whether you are pro or anti-American, whether you agree with Obama's politics or not, the world does not have enough Michelle Obamas. There are not enough women who will stand up and tell young people (and even older people) to stand up, grab life with both hands, and do anything they want to. She never says it will be easy - "hard work" is a phrase well-used by Mrs Obama - but it is always possible. And perhaps with more people inspiring us, and our youth, in that way, we could see a new generation of people who think anything is possible, a generation of hope where the majority think that we can change the world we live in for the better, rather than relying on a minority to do the job.
Keep going Michelle, even if you just convert a few more people each time you speak, that's got to help. We need more people like you in this world, so bravo!
Wednesday, 13 April 2011
Being somebody – the X Factor generation - posted on Wordpress blog on November 15, 2010
X Factor always causes controversy – we seem to live in a world where people are happy to put themselves on shows like this to open themselves up to scrutiny. The latest series has probably caused the biggest storm, whether this is media hype or a symptom of a worrying nationwide hype that is becoming a defining element of our country.
But in the midst of all this hype a teenage girl this week said something that was incredibly worrying, and awfully sad, in my opinion.
After her appearance at a film premiere this week, 17-year-old Cher Lloyd said: “This is the most important I’ve ever felt in my life, I feel like a somebody now.”
This quote comes in stark contrast to an unbelievable experience I had myself this weekend – I had the great privilege to visit Camp Bastion in Afghanistan and met some of the people who are fighting for our country. Whether or not you agree with the war in Afghanistan, no doubts can ever be held over the commitment and professionalism of our armed forces. I met soldiers, sailors and airmen who are living in incredibly difficult conditions, many have lost friends and comrades in horrible ways, yet still get up every day to do an extremely important job, often with very little recognition.
We don’t know who they are or what they do, and they rarely get a well done or round of applause from the British public, yet they carry on. Why is this? Because it is about more than that.
In Camp Bastion’s remembrance service, Padre Andrew Lloyd told the 2,500 men: ”This is service, this is commitment, not just passing vacuous celebrity but the reason you walk tall alongside your forebears and across the generations to come.”
And isn’t he right – aren’t these the qualities we should be recognising in people?
How sad, then, that a teenage girl with her life ahead of her only feels like a “somebody” after receiving public adulation thanks to a reality TV show. What have we come to that walking a red carpet, being blinded by camera flashes, and hearing people screaming her name, is what makes somebody feel that they are doing something, or are somebody, worthwhile? How tragic if this is what the next generation see as being somebody!
Thank goodness our soldiers, many of them not much older than her, see being somebody as far more than that. Thank goodness they don’t need our screams and adoration to carry on what they are doing so well. Hopefully all is not lost!
But in the midst of all this hype a teenage girl this week said something that was incredibly worrying, and awfully sad, in my opinion.
After her appearance at a film premiere this week, 17-year-old Cher Lloyd said: “This is the most important I’ve ever felt in my life, I feel like a somebody now.”
This quote comes in stark contrast to an unbelievable experience I had myself this weekend – I had the great privilege to visit Camp Bastion in Afghanistan and met some of the people who are fighting for our country. Whether or not you agree with the war in Afghanistan, no doubts can ever be held over the commitment and professionalism of our armed forces. I met soldiers, sailors and airmen who are living in incredibly difficult conditions, many have lost friends and comrades in horrible ways, yet still get up every day to do an extremely important job, often with very little recognition.
We don’t know who they are or what they do, and they rarely get a well done or round of applause from the British public, yet they carry on. Why is this? Because it is about more than that.
In Camp Bastion’s remembrance service, Padre Andrew Lloyd told the 2,500 men: ”This is service, this is commitment, not just passing vacuous celebrity but the reason you walk tall alongside your forebears and across the generations to come.”
And isn’t he right – aren’t these the qualities we should be recognising in people?
How sad, then, that a teenage girl with her life ahead of her only feels like a “somebody” after receiving public adulation thanks to a reality TV show. What have we come to that walking a red carpet, being blinded by camera flashes, and hearing people screaming her name, is what makes somebody feel that they are doing something, or are somebody, worthwhile? How tragic if this is what the next generation see as being somebody!
Thank goodness our soldiers, many of them not much older than her, see being somebody as far more than that. Thank goodness they don’t need our screams and adoration to carry on what they are doing so well. Hopefully all is not lost!
Words - posted on Wordpress blog on November 7, 2010
We spend a lot of time listening to words, promises – from politicians guaranteeing us a better country, from supermarkets and chains promising us the best deals, and from family and friends.
To some of these promises we’re quite cynical – perhaps in the aforementioned order! But some of these words we take at face value, we believe what we are told. Because why would somebody say they would do something, or feel something, or think something, if they don’t? Words are the best way we have of expressing how we feel – how much, or how little someone or something means, or what we think! Words are some of the most important tools we have.
But in some ways, this is our downfall. Words are easy, and those of us who are used to using words can indeed use them as tools. We can easily tell people what they want to hear, we convince them using language. But it is the actions that bely us – the “follow-up”. Without this, the words are empty. What has happened in America? Do people feel Barack Obama was full of words, just words? And our very own coalition government? Again, do we feel promises were made that have not been carried out? It’s not just the words – they are only a part of the package.
And what happens when we only have the words? We feel let down, conned, lied to. We feel like it was all a sham, that the promises were all too easily made, but that the sentiments didn’t quite extend to the hard work that the actions would require. It cheapens the promises, it leaves a bitter taste in our mouths, and it makes us step-by-step just that little bit more cynical.
It’s not just the words that count – it’s what comes next.
To some of these promises we’re quite cynical – perhaps in the aforementioned order! But some of these words we take at face value, we believe what we are told. Because why would somebody say they would do something, or feel something, or think something, if they don’t? Words are the best way we have of expressing how we feel – how much, or how little someone or something means, or what we think! Words are some of the most important tools we have.
But in some ways, this is our downfall. Words are easy, and those of us who are used to using words can indeed use them as tools. We can easily tell people what they want to hear, we convince them using language. But it is the actions that bely us – the “follow-up”. Without this, the words are empty. What has happened in America? Do people feel Barack Obama was full of words, just words? And our very own coalition government? Again, do we feel promises were made that have not been carried out? It’s not just the words – they are only a part of the package.
And what happens when we only have the words? We feel let down, conned, lied to. We feel like it was all a sham, that the promises were all too easily made, but that the sentiments didn’t quite extend to the hard work that the actions would require. It cheapens the promises, it leaves a bitter taste in our mouths, and it makes us step-by-step just that little bit more cynical.
It’s not just the words that count – it’s what comes next.
Upmarket Benidorm - posted on Wordpress blog November 7, 2010
Leaning over the balcony of my sixteenth-floor room, I’m surrounded by high-rise buildings, the noise of the busy city below little more than a muted buzz.
No, I’m not in Manhattan or Hong Kong. I’m in Benidorm – home of the TV comedy series about Brits abroad, the “concrete jungle” where I’ve heard it’s easier to get a roast dinner than a Spanish paella.
Around 1.7 million of us visit Benidorm each year and the number is rising as our winters get colder. Its smart hoteliers cannily extended the summer season into November this year, and they expect many winter visitors to stay for a month or more.
It isn’t difficult to see why. Benidorm has worked so hard to dump the ‘bacon and butties’ image that it has been suggested as a UNESCO World Heritage site – and there is so much to see in the surrounding province of Alicante.
We began our visit in Benidorm, leaving the high-rise blocks behind to walk down tiny, winding streets and through crowded courtyards in the old town where Spanish holidaymakers crowd into tapas bars to gossip furiously before eating late.
The spit in the old town, once the site of a castle but now more of a viewing point, juts out into the sea separating the Levante (sunrise) and Poniente (sunset) beaches, both huge stretches of golden sand.
In high season, Poniente is slightly less busy, more a haven for Spanish visitors, while Levante is only a stone’s throw from the touristy bars and restaurants.
The new wave-inspired promenade on the Poniente end is testament to how Benidorm is changing – welcoming the discerning holidaymaker as well as those who just want the sun. A thing of architectural beauty, it shows how far this city has come since tourism began to transform this stretch of the coast in the 1960s.
Today’s visitors needn’t settle for high-rise, either. Of Benidorm’s three five-star hotels, two are extensive complexes lying outside the city, while the newly-opened Villa Venecia, a deceptive boutique hotel right next to the spit, overlooks the sea.
Here you work out in the gym looking down on the waves, dine on unbelievably fresh seafood, or relax in its bijou hot tub and bar, feeling a million miles away from the late-night rabble-rousers.
Other changes are there to see – maybe hidden under the surface but there all the same. The Hotel Levante Club, where we stayed, recently became all-inclusive, unusual in a city centre hotel. It’s also adults-only, a great escape for those of us who can do without being soaked by a dive-bomb as we laze alongside the pool.
Families have the choice of four theme parks nearby – Terra Mitica, Aqualandia, Mundomar and Terra Natura are all popular with children and probably give parents a relatively easy day out.
Adults travelling by themselves will get more enjoyment out of Alicante, a splendidly Spanish city which is largely untouched by mass tourism. It’s just a 40-minute drive away.
So easily ignored by thousands of tourists who fly in and get whisked off to resorts, this city is a treat. With two beaches, one slightly out of town, impressive museums, art galleries, great restaurants and bars, and boutiques to keep shopaholics happy for hours, I was spoilt for choice.
Our guided walk took us to the city’s historic castle perched high on the hill above. A five-minute walk through an underground tunnel and a quick lift ride to the top gave us panoramic views across the whole area. Beautifully maintained, this ancient building can’t fail to impress.
For an alternative to the city life, you should leave Benidorm in the opposite direction and head up the coast towards smaller seaside towns. Suddenly, you could be anywhere in Spain, feeling a million miles away from Britain.
Playa d’Albir is a charming town with its own small-scale hustle and bustle. It has hotels but none of the urban pressures that some dislike about Benidorm.
The Hotel Playa d’Albir’s boutique-style bedrooms lend a touch of class, while the buffet restaurant is by far the best I’ve ever tried, with great service and the biggest range of fresh fish and seafood. The beautiful desserts, all made in-house, are heaven.
Albir is also an appropriate setting for the SHA Wellness Clinic – an angelic white hotel resting on the hill above the town. With a focus on macrobiotic diets and healthy living, it lures celebrities who need to relax. Everything here may be good for you, but it’s also classy, beautiful, and incredibly calm.
When we dined, Real Madrid star and former Spanish football captain Raul was at the next table. Apparently he’s one of many famous faces among the regulars.
Further along the coast, beyond the town of Altea, you come eventually to Denia – to me the Spanish answer to the south of France. Here you can look longingly at the yachts moored in the harbours, then browse the shops in the tree-lined avenues before dining in gourmet restaurants.
In winter, the locals here are almost outnumbered by Brits who nestle down for long stays in the surrounding hillsides. There are some stunning views locally – the marina of Estaciones Nauticas is a great place to see how the other half live, with trips aboard its motor boats, catamarans and sailing boats at a price mere mortals can afford.
We enjoyed a jaunt along the coast on board a renovated wooden sailing boat, all to ourselves with just the wind through the sails to lull us to sleep.
After all this relaxation, a six-course tasting lunch at El Raset restaurant more than prepared us for a tour of this beautiful town. Denia stands in the shadow of the imposing Montgo mountain, with some views unchanged for decades.
In Denia’s old town, huge regeneration work is under way, with new restaurants and bars springing up along its tiny streets. An 11th century castle, used by both the Moors and Christians when they ruled the town, is well worth the stumble up steep cobbles.
Zooming back on the motorway to Alicante airport, I looked with longing at Benidorm, its dark silhouette twinkling as the early evening lights went on.
On gloomy days ahead, happy memories of the Costa Blanca will come flooding back.
No, I’m not in Manhattan or Hong Kong. I’m in Benidorm – home of the TV comedy series about Brits abroad, the “concrete jungle” where I’ve heard it’s easier to get a roast dinner than a Spanish paella.
Around 1.7 million of us visit Benidorm each year and the number is rising as our winters get colder. Its smart hoteliers cannily extended the summer season into November this year, and they expect many winter visitors to stay for a month or more.
It isn’t difficult to see why. Benidorm has worked so hard to dump the ‘bacon and butties’ image that it has been suggested as a UNESCO World Heritage site – and there is so much to see in the surrounding province of Alicante.
We began our visit in Benidorm, leaving the high-rise blocks behind to walk down tiny, winding streets and through crowded courtyards in the old town where Spanish holidaymakers crowd into tapas bars to gossip furiously before eating late.
The spit in the old town, once the site of a castle but now more of a viewing point, juts out into the sea separating the Levante (sunrise) and Poniente (sunset) beaches, both huge stretches of golden sand.
In high season, Poniente is slightly less busy, more a haven for Spanish visitors, while Levante is only a stone’s throw from the touristy bars and restaurants.
The new wave-inspired promenade on the Poniente end is testament to how Benidorm is changing – welcoming the discerning holidaymaker as well as those who just want the sun. A thing of architectural beauty, it shows how far this city has come since tourism began to transform this stretch of the coast in the 1960s.
Today’s visitors needn’t settle for high-rise, either. Of Benidorm’s three five-star hotels, two are extensive complexes lying outside the city, while the newly-opened Villa Venecia, a deceptive boutique hotel right next to the spit, overlooks the sea.
Here you work out in the gym looking down on the waves, dine on unbelievably fresh seafood, or relax in its bijou hot tub and bar, feeling a million miles away from the late-night rabble-rousers.
Other changes are there to see – maybe hidden under the surface but there all the same. The Hotel Levante Club, where we stayed, recently became all-inclusive, unusual in a city centre hotel. It’s also adults-only, a great escape for those of us who can do without being soaked by a dive-bomb as we laze alongside the pool.
Families have the choice of four theme parks nearby – Terra Mitica, Aqualandia, Mundomar and Terra Natura are all popular with children and probably give parents a relatively easy day out.
Adults travelling by themselves will get more enjoyment out of Alicante, a splendidly Spanish city which is largely untouched by mass tourism. It’s just a 40-minute drive away.
So easily ignored by thousands of tourists who fly in and get whisked off to resorts, this city is a treat. With two beaches, one slightly out of town, impressive museums, art galleries, great restaurants and bars, and boutiques to keep shopaholics happy for hours, I was spoilt for choice.
Our guided walk took us to the city’s historic castle perched high on the hill above. A five-minute walk through an underground tunnel and a quick lift ride to the top gave us panoramic views across the whole area. Beautifully maintained, this ancient building can’t fail to impress.
For an alternative to the city life, you should leave Benidorm in the opposite direction and head up the coast towards smaller seaside towns. Suddenly, you could be anywhere in Spain, feeling a million miles away from Britain.
Playa d’Albir is a charming town with its own small-scale hustle and bustle. It has hotels but none of the urban pressures that some dislike about Benidorm.
The Hotel Playa d’Albir’s boutique-style bedrooms lend a touch of class, while the buffet restaurant is by far the best I’ve ever tried, with great service and the biggest range of fresh fish and seafood. The beautiful desserts, all made in-house, are heaven.
Albir is also an appropriate setting for the SHA Wellness Clinic – an angelic white hotel resting on the hill above the town. With a focus on macrobiotic diets and healthy living, it lures celebrities who need to relax. Everything here may be good for you, but it’s also classy, beautiful, and incredibly calm.
When we dined, Real Madrid star and former Spanish football captain Raul was at the next table. Apparently he’s one of many famous faces among the regulars.
Further along the coast, beyond the town of Altea, you come eventually to Denia – to me the Spanish answer to the south of France. Here you can look longingly at the yachts moored in the harbours, then browse the shops in the tree-lined avenues before dining in gourmet restaurants.
In winter, the locals here are almost outnumbered by Brits who nestle down for long stays in the surrounding hillsides. There are some stunning views locally – the marina of Estaciones Nauticas is a great place to see how the other half live, with trips aboard its motor boats, catamarans and sailing boats at a price mere mortals can afford.
We enjoyed a jaunt along the coast on board a renovated wooden sailing boat, all to ourselves with just the wind through the sails to lull us to sleep.
After all this relaxation, a six-course tasting lunch at El Raset restaurant more than prepared us for a tour of this beautiful town. Denia stands in the shadow of the imposing Montgo mountain, with some views unchanged for decades.
In Denia’s old town, huge regeneration work is under way, with new restaurants and bars springing up along its tiny streets. An 11th century castle, used by both the Moors and Christians when they ruled the town, is well worth the stumble up steep cobbles.
Zooming back on the motorway to Alicante airport, I looked with longing at Benidorm, its dark silhouette twinkling as the early evening lights went on.
On gloomy days ahead, happy memories of the Costa Blanca will come flooding back.
A humbling meeting… - posted on Wordpress blog June 15, 2010
Last week I was lucky enough to take a few days visiting Costa Blanca in Spain. I plan to write on this very soon, but more urgently, I need to write about some people I met when I was there.
Driving through Benidorm (yes the holiday haven so many people flock to), our guide Maria Jose Montiel was telling us about her sister, who works at a school in the town. As we sat in the car in the sunshine, full of fine food and great wine, enjoying the sights of a world we only see as part of a search for fun and an escape from “real life”, we suddenly spotted this sister we were hearing so much about.
Surrounded by a group of teenagers, strolling near a golf course, the scene could have been any teacher with her students. But this was no ordinary group – these were some of the most inspiring people I have met in a long, long time, and the next ten minutes was the be one of the most humbling experiences of my life. For while I was in Costa Blanca to write about why people would love to “escape” here, I was confronted with people who have no escape from the lives they live. These students have, by their own admission, led tough lives. At only 15 or 16, they have problems at home, with friends, with drugs…. The sunshine may be shining down on the city they live, but for them real sunshine is hard to find. For months, their teacher has worked to show them a better way – that they can succeed and make anything of their future they want to. On this very day, after brief introductions, she reinforced the message further – “you choose the way you want your life to be”. Stood by the golf course, the quiet, civilised game became her metaphor – they could live their life peacefully, politely, choosing to be successful and to strive for happiness, or they could stick with the lives they have thus far experienced.
And I, so often confused, spoilt, jealous of others, was left entirely humbled. Because, as many problems as they have had, these young men and women listened. And they have been listening to their teacher. They are now polite, calm, talkative young people and, most of all, they refuse to give up! They may struggle in the classroom, but they are now looking for different routes into their future. One plans to train as a mechanic, others will be cooks or waitresses. But all of them are having to consciously make a choice that so many of us take for granted – to better themselves, to rise above the hardships (of which they have far more than I have ever had to endure) and to keep on going. These teenagers are an example to us all – to those of us who think we have it hard, to those of us who think too much about “escaping” from our lives without appreciating what we really have.
And who has helped these teenagers on their way – their teacher, who is prepared to do whatever it takes to help. The energy she devotes to them is a lesson to all teachers, indeed to all of us who meet people who need some help, some attention and some love.
So I send them a message, via this blog, which they were so keen to see their photo on.
Never give up! You are, each and every one of you so incredibly special, you deserve as much as the next person. And listen to your teacher, because she is right. You DO choose, and you can choose. It may be hard, but it will be worth it. You make your dreams come true, never forget that.
And to the rest of the world, including myself. It would do us no harm to take a minute to think of what we have, and what we can achieve and have achieved. Because some people aren’t as lucky as others. Some people have to fight for every scrap of happiness and sunshine they get – and I salute those who do it every day, without ever giving up.
Driving through Benidorm (yes the holiday haven so many people flock to), our guide Maria Jose Montiel was telling us about her sister, who works at a school in the town. As we sat in the car in the sunshine, full of fine food and great wine, enjoying the sights of a world we only see as part of a search for fun and an escape from “real life”, we suddenly spotted this sister we were hearing so much about.
Surrounded by a group of teenagers, strolling near a golf course, the scene could have been any teacher with her students. But this was no ordinary group – these were some of the most inspiring people I have met in a long, long time, and the next ten minutes was the be one of the most humbling experiences of my life. For while I was in Costa Blanca to write about why people would love to “escape” here, I was confronted with people who have no escape from the lives they live. These students have, by their own admission, led tough lives. At only 15 or 16, they have problems at home, with friends, with drugs…. The sunshine may be shining down on the city they live, but for them real sunshine is hard to find. For months, their teacher has worked to show them a better way – that they can succeed and make anything of their future they want to. On this very day, after brief introductions, she reinforced the message further – “you choose the way you want your life to be”. Stood by the golf course, the quiet, civilised game became her metaphor – they could live their life peacefully, politely, choosing to be successful and to strive for happiness, or they could stick with the lives they have thus far experienced.
And I, so often confused, spoilt, jealous of others, was left entirely humbled. Because, as many problems as they have had, these young men and women listened. And they have been listening to their teacher. They are now polite, calm, talkative young people and, most of all, they refuse to give up! They may struggle in the classroom, but they are now looking for different routes into their future. One plans to train as a mechanic, others will be cooks or waitresses. But all of them are having to consciously make a choice that so many of us take for granted – to better themselves, to rise above the hardships (of which they have far more than I have ever had to endure) and to keep on going. These teenagers are an example to us all – to those of us who think we have it hard, to those of us who think too much about “escaping” from our lives without appreciating what we really have.
And who has helped these teenagers on their way – their teacher, who is prepared to do whatever it takes to help. The energy she devotes to them is a lesson to all teachers, indeed to all of us who meet people who need some help, some attention and some love.
So I send them a message, via this blog, which they were so keen to see their photo on.
Never give up! You are, each and every one of you so incredibly special, you deserve as much as the next person. And listen to your teacher, because she is right. You DO choose, and you can choose. It may be hard, but it will be worth it. You make your dreams come true, never forget that.
And to the rest of the world, including myself. It would do us no harm to take a minute to think of what we have, and what we can achieve and have achieved. Because some people aren’t as lucky as others. Some people have to fight for every scrap of happiness and sunshine they get – and I salute those who do it every day, without ever giving up.
New England – my USA “cherry” is popped - posted on Wordpress blog April 1, 2010
I’ve wanted to go to America for ages – usually the stereotypical places like New York, California, the Grand Canyon, Vegas, even New Orleans. So when the chance to visit New England popped up, I was intrigued and although it wasn’t first choice, it was a good place to start.
Well, on reflection, it was a GREAT place to start. Beautiful scenery, the vastness the United States has to offer with all its charm, but without all the vices we like to think we would hate of this McDonald’s munching, oversized nation. New England is rural and hugely expansive, but homely, welcoming and friendly. You can drive for hours just drinking in the scenery – the mountains of New Hampshire , the coast of Maine, the rolling hills of Vermont. It’s all there. And no, you won’t see a McDonalds from one town to the next. In fact in Stowe, Vermont, I was told McDonalds tried to open a restaurant which failed – purely because they don’t want it there. People don’t go to New England for that, they go for fresh air, great views, and an experience that will kill all of your preconceptions of America in one fell swoop.
For action lovers you have it all – skiing, zip lining, husky sledding. You name it, you got it (imagine an American twang in that!) But then if thats not what you want why don’t you just settle down in a cosy little hotel where you might even have a log fire in your room, you’ll most likely have a jacuzzi in your bathroom, and you’ll definitely have a friendliness you wouldn’t expect – never before have I heard the phrase “you’re welcome” quite so much.
Yes of course, some towns might seem a bit “hick”. People may look like their trousers are just a bit too high and they may look at you slightly stranglely when you reveal your quirky accent. You won’t find a nightclub in sight and in some places you might find yourself drinking beer out of a jam jar (it’s traditional). But this is the beauty of the place – it’s unmissable and man, will it have you hooked.
I will be back there, I guarantee it, and this time I plan to add New York into the mix. At least I know if the city that never sleeps doesn’t live up to all my dreams and fantasies I can always escape back to the home from home, so aptly named, that is New England.
Well, on reflection, it was a GREAT place to start. Beautiful scenery, the vastness the United States has to offer with all its charm, but without all the vices we like to think we would hate of this McDonald’s munching, oversized nation. New England is rural and hugely expansive, but homely, welcoming and friendly. You can drive for hours just drinking in the scenery – the mountains of New Hampshire , the coast of Maine, the rolling hills of Vermont. It’s all there. And no, you won’t see a McDonalds from one town to the next. In fact in Stowe, Vermont, I was told McDonalds tried to open a restaurant which failed – purely because they don’t want it there. People don’t go to New England for that, they go for fresh air, great views, and an experience that will kill all of your preconceptions of America in one fell swoop.
For action lovers you have it all – skiing, zip lining, husky sledding. You name it, you got it (imagine an American twang in that!) But then if thats not what you want why don’t you just settle down in a cosy little hotel where you might even have a log fire in your room, you’ll most likely have a jacuzzi in your bathroom, and you’ll definitely have a friendliness you wouldn’t expect – never before have I heard the phrase “you’re welcome” quite so much.
Yes of course, some towns might seem a bit “hick”. People may look like their trousers are just a bit too high and they may look at you slightly stranglely when you reveal your quirky accent. You won’t find a nightclub in sight and in some places you might find yourself drinking beer out of a jam jar (it’s traditional). But this is the beauty of the place – it’s unmissable and man, will it have you hooked.
I will be back there, I guarantee it, and this time I plan to add New York into the mix. At least I know if the city that never sleeps doesn’t live up to all my dreams and fantasies I can always escape back to the home from home, so aptly named, that is New England.
Is the grass greener? Posted on wordpress blog April 1, 2010
We’re all regularly told that “the grass is not always greener on the other side of the fence”. It’s something we grow up with, a way of telling us that we shouldn’t always “want” – sometimes we should be happy with our lot.
Yet we’re also taught to aspire to things, to want to better ourselves, whether by money, jobs, relationships, possessions, experiences.
So what to do? Where is the line? Where do we stop and say enough is enough. It seems for lots of us (those who aren’t perfect of course) that we get the things we want – the lifestyle, the job, the friends, the partner – then suddenly the goalposts move. How many times have you said to yourself, “if only I had x, y, and z then I’d be satisfied”, only to find that you get those things then suddenly have different wants? I know that happens to me on countless occasions.
So where do we stop? When is enough? I really don’t know – it’s something everyone seems to have problems with. Is it actually a symptom of the world we live in? Is that why we have problems with crime, with fraud, with high divorce rates. We only have to look at MPs to see a symptom of not being able to see that enough is enough – why do you need so many expenses to fund plugs, duck houses blah blah blah? Of course, it’s easy to criticise them, but are we any better? Is that why people switch from partner to partner? Use endless credit cards? Go on huge long, “tick-box” adventures for no reason other than to say we’ve been there.
But then we look at the people who don’t do that – who don’t aspire to anything – as “no hopers”. People who are just happy to settle for anything – to not bother with the job they have, to not want to see the world, to not even want to find that elusive “true love” that we all dream about but find hard to catch hold of. Perhaps they’ve got the right idea?
I’m sure the wise people somewhere would say there’s a happy medium between the two – between wanting more but not letting it destroy the good things you have. Well, if someone finds that happy medium, that invisible line, can you please drop me a line? I’d love a bit of a hint, it would make things a lot easier.
Yet we’re also taught to aspire to things, to want to better ourselves, whether by money, jobs, relationships, possessions, experiences.
So what to do? Where is the line? Where do we stop and say enough is enough. It seems for lots of us (those who aren’t perfect of course) that we get the things we want – the lifestyle, the job, the friends, the partner – then suddenly the goalposts move. How many times have you said to yourself, “if only I had x, y, and z then I’d be satisfied”, only to find that you get those things then suddenly have different wants? I know that happens to me on countless occasions.
So where do we stop? When is enough? I really don’t know – it’s something everyone seems to have problems with. Is it actually a symptom of the world we live in? Is that why we have problems with crime, with fraud, with high divorce rates. We only have to look at MPs to see a symptom of not being able to see that enough is enough – why do you need so many expenses to fund plugs, duck houses blah blah blah? Of course, it’s easy to criticise them, but are we any better? Is that why people switch from partner to partner? Use endless credit cards? Go on huge long, “tick-box” adventures for no reason other than to say we’ve been there.
But then we look at the people who don’t do that – who don’t aspire to anything – as “no hopers”. People who are just happy to settle for anything – to not bother with the job they have, to not want to see the world, to not even want to find that elusive “true love” that we all dream about but find hard to catch hold of. Perhaps they’ve got the right idea?
I’m sure the wise people somewhere would say there’s a happy medium between the two – between wanting more but not letting it destroy the good things you have. Well, if someone finds that happy medium, that invisible line, can you please drop me a line? I’d love a bit of a hint, it would make things a lot easier.
What’s my obsession with Jordan all about? Posted on Wordpress blog on Oct 10, 2009
I’ve always been known for my love of all things cheesy, from S Club 7 to all manner of teen American dramas I really should have grown out of by the ripe old age of 27. So, it’s not much of a surprise I have become addicted to ‘What Katie did next..’ – the reality TV show following Katie Price – aka Jordan’s – antic after the breakdown of her marriage. But what is a surprise is that it’s not just me! The more people I talk to the more I discover who are hooked on this. And no, we’re not teenagers who aspire to Jordan’s fame, or people who want to look like her. We don’t think she’s a great role model and we don’t aspire to be Page 3 models.
So what is it that drives this curiosity? This need to watch her every move? Some people have said it’s her straightforwardness – the fact she “says it as it is” and doesn’t care what people say. Others say it’s because we’ve seen her hit rock bottom and we see that she doesn’t have it all perfect at all. I have been wracking my brains wondering what it is. Do I secretly like the fact her fairytale dream didn’t work out? or that despite her good looks on a cover, she still looks rough in the morning? or do I like watching her blossoming relationship with the new man? Maybe I’m just nosy to see what life is like when you supposedly have everything you want? Are we obsessed with what we can’t have – with this fairytale existence of money and treats and the supposed perfect life celebrities lead. The logical part of me says no, I don’t want that life. I don’t want to be her. Not in the slightest.
So, god knows what it is. Maybe it’s just a morbid fascination because this woman is so different to anyone we’ve ever seen before. Maybe there’s no logical reason at all. Sod it, I’ll keep watching until I work it out!
So what is it that drives this curiosity? This need to watch her every move? Some people have said it’s her straightforwardness – the fact she “says it as it is” and doesn’t care what people say. Others say it’s because we’ve seen her hit rock bottom and we see that she doesn’t have it all perfect at all. I have been wracking my brains wondering what it is. Do I secretly like the fact her fairytale dream didn’t work out? or that despite her good looks on a cover, she still looks rough in the morning? or do I like watching her blossoming relationship with the new man? Maybe I’m just nosy to see what life is like when you supposedly have everything you want? Are we obsessed with what we can’t have – with this fairytale existence of money and treats and the supposed perfect life celebrities lead. The logical part of me says no, I don’t want that life. I don’t want to be her. Not in the slightest.
So, god knows what it is. Maybe it’s just a morbid fascination because this woman is so different to anyone we’ve ever seen before. Maybe there’s no logical reason at all. Sod it, I’ll keep watching until I work it out!
Afghan elections – do we know how good we’ve got it? Posted on wordpress blog on August 21, 2009
So this morning’s headlines included mention of yesterday’s Afghan elections. Our hallowed BBC Breakfast presenters sagely informed us of the “low turnout” of yesterday’s polls. Not surprising really, considering people were told they would either be killed or have their finger cut off by the Taliban if they dared vote. As it is, there were a number of deaths in the wartorn country as explosions were set off to disrupt the elections. This is quite shocking considering the turnout in Britain’s 2005 general election was put at 61% – without threat of death or losing a digit! Is this a horrific indictment on our country – the leaders of democracy so keen to tell everyone else to do it out way, yet we don’t even bother to do it ourselves. I am told it’s because us Brits are disillusioned with our politicians, we don’t see the point in voting because they’re all as bad as each other.
Is it this, or are we just lazy? Is it easier to sit and complain about the “state of our country” but do little about it. Perhaps it’s time we took a leaf out of the the Afghans’ book and started taking note of how lucky we are to live in a democracy – a real democracy – where we have a choice in the way we live without reprisals. Perhaps it’s time we took a little bit more care of our country and its future.
Is it this, or are we just lazy? Is it easier to sit and complain about the “state of our country” but do little about it. Perhaps it’s time we took a leaf out of the the Afghans’ book and started taking note of how lucky we are to live in a democracy – a real democracy – where we have a choice in the way we live without reprisals. Perhaps it’s time we took a little bit more care of our country and its future.
Blog off! - Posted on August 7, 2009
In a fit of rage, my other half has just told me to stop disturbing him and to “blog off!”
As you can see, I have in order to prevent World War 3 from beginning in our humble abode. But it got me thinking about why I’m blogging in the first place, why any of us do. My adoring boyfriend thinks it’s nuts. He thinks we’re all insane for wanting to voice our thoughts and feelings to total strangers across the world.
But isn’t communication part of who we are. I for one, feel the need to communicate so much that, as this blog illustrates, can success in annoying even my nearest and dearest. So isn’t a blog a godsend for those of us who wear our heart on our sleeve, want to voice our rants, thoughts, feelings, and observations to the world? of course it is. Where would we be without it?
In a world that’s far too busy to listen to the petty worries and angst we might feel, or pause to listen to hopes and dreams, where else but to seek solace than the refuge of somewhere where nobody can tell you to be quiet. Of course, I’m not saying I’m ignored at home, but there’s a reality that some of us cherish communication more than others.
Sceptics say our generation is living life “online”, experiencing a “virtual life” using social networking sites, blogs, twitter, and never speaking face to face. But where is the time for that these days?
Perhaps blogging is the last best hope for those of us who are craving for people to stop and listen
As you can see, I have in order to prevent World War 3 from beginning in our humble abode. But it got me thinking about why I’m blogging in the first place, why any of us do. My adoring boyfriend thinks it’s nuts. He thinks we’re all insane for wanting to voice our thoughts and feelings to total strangers across the world.
But isn’t communication part of who we are. I for one, feel the need to communicate so much that, as this blog illustrates, can success in annoying even my nearest and dearest. So isn’t a blog a godsend for those of us who wear our heart on our sleeve, want to voice our rants, thoughts, feelings, and observations to the world? of course it is. Where would we be without it?
In a world that’s far too busy to listen to the petty worries and angst we might feel, or pause to listen to hopes and dreams, where else but to seek solace than the refuge of somewhere where nobody can tell you to be quiet. Of course, I’m not saying I’m ignored at home, but there’s a reality that some of us cherish communication more than others.
Sceptics say our generation is living life “online”, experiencing a “virtual life” using social networking sites, blogs, twitter, and never speaking face to face. But where is the time for that these days?
Perhaps blogging is the last best hope for those of us who are craving for people to stop and listen
So, I deserted blogger in a bid for a more "high-tech" blog - only to find it's so hard to use that I haven't blogged in over a year!
So, here's for a fresh start! You'll see shortly all the posts I wrote on my other blog, so you can catch up, and to follow will be regular postings about anything and everything - travel, food, work, life...
Enjoy!
So, here's for a fresh start! You'll see shortly all the posts I wrote on my other blog, so you can catch up, and to follow will be regular postings about anything and everything - travel, food, work, life...
Enjoy!
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