La vida de Annie

By Annie

Binibequer Vell

Took a trip to this weirdly Prisoner-style mock fishing village today. In the season it is heaving with tour buses and burger-and-chips-guzzling kids and San Miguel-swigging adults in their speedos and lobster-red skin (yes, I did try to see it in the Summer), but today it was totally deserted apart from an old lady caretaker with her two very plump cats. Having previously dissed it as a tourist-trap, a curiousity like Porthmeiron, I decided to give it another try. Without people it's breathtaking, a white-icing Gaudi-style fantasy place, with little twisty alleys and unexpected staircases and courtyards. The sea views (wild and raging waves against the rocks on this occasion) are spectacular. Everywhere are signs requesting silence please - it's meant to be a place for quiet contemplation and chilling, which today it was. For more views see this video.  There was no sign of Number 6 anywhere. If you understand that, you're old like me.

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