almeria: where the suncoats dont fit and locals hate tourists
woke up to this weather data like a fever dream. 31.8c outside, skin peeling like old chewing gum. ive been here since 2pm and im already regretting the coconut water i drank. let me tell you about this port town that smells like.globalization and wrong decisions.
quick answers
here comes the forced order i promised you.
q: is this place worth visiting?
ans: only if you enjoy melting into the sidewalk and narrating your life choices to seagulls. the beach is free, but so are my morals here.
q: is it expensive?
here's the real deal: a euro gets you more tapas than a us dollar in berlin. but if you order a drink, they'll charge you like they know your soul.
q: who would hate it here?
dont come if you want to read a book without the espresso turning to ash. or if you fear chaos. this town runs on it.
q: best time to visit?
before 11am or after sunset. midday sun here roasts you like a disgruntled landlord.
i heard once from a local that said 'the beach is for people who like sand in their shoes.' and i believed it until i saw a tourist wearing flip-flops in a sauna.
this town is a dumpster fire with ac. the internet cuts out during power outages, which happen twice a week. water pressure is so low the shower feels like a medieval torture device. but somehow, you adapt. you start collecting souvenirs that are just rocks and bad decisions.
here's the bait: the food. tapas here cost €1.50 but taste like they were microwaved by a disgruntled ex. the seafood? guess you're eating the same fish everyone else does. which is fine if you like mystery.
the geometry of almeria is weird. streets twist like they're trying to confuse you. one minute you're near a church, next you're staring at a reverse graffiti wall. i tried to ask a local for directions and they just pointed to a sign in spanish that said 'imperialism sucks.'
side trip hazard: nearby granada is 2 hours by bus. don't bother. take the train. but the train breaks down. again.
i heard from a friend who lives here: 'if you want to feel alive, come here. if you want to feel safe, don't.' i recommended it to someone. they refused. now they're in prague. be warned.
the weather here is a metaphor. it's always hot, but you can't escape the memories. i saw a couple holding hands under a tree that looked like it belonged in a horror movie. their love was so real, it made me question my choices.
price check: a hostel bed is €8. a bed and breakfast is €40. but neither guarantees sleep. i woke up in mine because a water main exploded. the local firefighters made me a sandwich as thanks. it was okay.
the tap water in almeria is a no-go. i saw a guy drink it and his eyes turned blue. locals said he was fine. i didn't ask.
the night scene is sketchy. bars close early. but there's a vibe. like everyone's waiting for something to happen. maybe a power outage. maybe a flash mob of old men dancing. either way, it's honest.
someone told me this place is on everyone's bucket list. i said no. but then i realized i'm on my bucket list. which is just a list of things i'll never do.
this town doesn't care about your comfort. but that's part of the charm. or maybe it's a lack of schema. either way, you leave with stories. mostly about how hot it was.
last night, i ate at a place called 'the ghost kitchen.' it was a converted factory. the owner said the best way to find good food is to follow the smell of rot. i followed it. i found a clam. it was delicious. or so i was told.
the wifi here is a metaphor for life. spotty, unreliable, but you learn to work around it. i had to email my boss from a freaking taco stand. she said i was 'resourceful.' i think she was lying.
i saw a tourist try to buy a mug from a kid for €20. the kid said 'no.' the tourist said 'same.' we both left. the kid started crying. the moral? trust locals. they know more than the guidebooks.
this town is a mess. but a honest one. i wanted to leave yesterday but couldn't. because the beach is nearby. because the price was right. because i'm a fool.
winding down now. it's 1am and i'm writing this in a café that charges €10 for a glass of wine. i'm too tired to care. but i'm sure i'll remember this place. probably as a mistake. or maybe as a lesson.
if you come, don't ask for directions. just walk. get lost. find something that makes you uncomfortable. and maybe buy a suncoat. because nothing else will do.