Esta notícia é dedicada ao autarca de
Albufeira e aos responsáveis da estratégia do Turismo no Algarva ( e, claro …
não só … incluíndo Lisboa e Porto, ou mesmo, todo o País )
OVOODOCORVO
Is this the end of the tits and
tequila culture of package holidays?
Boozy Brits in tabloid photos, sex
games going viral: a stay in Crete’s party town of Malia helped me understand
why hotels want to ban binge-drinking teenagers
• Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett is a freelance writer
Friday 28 July 2017 15.03 BST
‘A week of surnburnt binge-drinking at chlamydia-ridden foam
parties has become, in the last decade or two, a rite of passage for young
British people keen to blow off steam after exams.’
Friday 28 July 2017 15.03 BST Last modified on Saturday 29
July 2017 05.56 BST
Could it be curtains for the “great” boozy British package
holiday? In a blow for teenage holidaymakers across the nation looking for a
post-exams blowout, one of the country’s favourite party destinations – Malia
in Crete – is restricting access to groups of pissed-up clubbers in favour of
families from better-behaved countries. Up to 95% of the town’s hotels have
banned package deals for the 18 to 30 age group (really it should be 18 to 20,
because anyone who has been there will tell you that by 21 you’re already too
ancient for Malia’s notorious strip), and 10,000 British holidaymakers have now
been turned away.
It serves us right.
A week of surnburnt binge-drinking at chlamydia-ridden foam
parties (followed, next morning, by a dose of emergency contraception and an
interpretation of a “full English” involving inexplicable frankfurters) has
become, in the last decade or two, a rite of passage for young British people
keen to blow off steam after their exams. Resorts such as Magaluf, Faliraki,
Ayia Napa, Kavos and, of course, Malia have become synonymous with a certain
type of party-goer.
This is nothing new – the paralytic “Brits on tour” genre of
fly-on-the-wall reality TV programming has proved itself to have much mileage,
its interpretations ranging from Sun, Sex and Suspicious Parents to The
Inbetweeners film. Tabloids relish the photographs of scantily-clad,
vomit-strewn young women that emerge each summer, and videos of the tawdry “sex
games” played in bars at the behest of tour operators go viral.
This coverage often carries an unpleasantly shaming tone,
not to mention an unsavoury dollop of classism. There’s historically been a
snobbery around package holidays on the part of those who seem to believe that
working-class people don’t deserve or aren’t fit to travel, which ignores the
fact that bad behaviour in resorts such as Malia transcends class boundaries
(not to mention that a large proportion of these kids are middle class).
There’s also the uncomfortable fact of our reputation as holidaymakers abroad –
it’s wretched, and we all know it.
I doubt that this will have been helped by Brexit … Much of
Brits’ behaviour abroad is what might be termed Brexity
I doubt that this will have been helped by Brexit. Our
standing on the continent is at an all-time low. Indeed, much of Brits’
behaviour abroad – the sense of entitlement, the determination to behave in
ways one never would at home, the lack of respect for cultural or linguistic
diversity, the pig-headed belief (even when your head is in a toilet) that
you’re somehow superior to other countries – is what might be termed Brexity.
This isn’t about being a puritan who feels holidaymakers should be banned from
enjoying themselves; it’s about accepting that we have a certain reputation
because we have a certain genre of tourists who believe themselves to be better
than everyone else, and that we should be ashamed of it.
I’ve been to Malia – despite, at 26, being far too old for
it – because flying into Crete is a cheap way to get to the more sedate
Cyclades islands. It has a beautiful beach and coastline, and a stunning old
town full of excellent restaurants with little tables under clusters of
bougainvillea, where they welcome you with open arms and serve raki that their
mothers made in their bathtubs. Yet turn a corner, and you’re confronted with a
teeming approximation of Watford High Street on a Saturday night (even the
revolving dancefloor is imported).
You might simply conclude that I’m a stuck-up old lady for
preferring the traditional side of Malia, but you have to admit that a tourist
industry so focused on hammered British teenagers is going to be unpleasant for
the locals. Our hotel room had a sign listing the cost of everything that
wasn’t nailed down in case of breakage. Imagine dealing with that on a
day-to-day basis. No wonder enraged locals in the Corfu town of Kavos have set
up a Facebook group documenting bad behaviour.
There’s an assumption on the part of many British people
that we can simply continue to behave this way in perpetuity, and that others
should count themselves lucky that we deign to spend our tourist euros in their
backyard. But people do not have infinite reserves of friendship and goodwill.
Greece is one of the most beautiful and welcoming countries that I have
visited, not to mention the birthplace of democracy and fried cheese (the food
of the gods). Seeing how British binge-drinking culture has destroyed Malia and
other resorts like it would make many of us blush.
As hoteliers begin to realise that they’d rather have a nice
Dutch family as guests, and tourists become increasingly aware of the appeal of
flexible travel offered by budget airlines and Airbnb, you wonder how long the
tits and tequila culture of the 18 to 30 holiday can last. Perhaps we’ll mourn
its demise when it comes – as the end of an era – but it would do wonders for
Britain’s reputation.
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