VOTE: What’s the most tragic girls holiday destination?
Gals on tour
Summer means one thing – holidays. Summer in the UK doesn’t necessarily ensure sunshine, so the best thing to do is to set off with your gal pals for a week of drinks, dancing and debauchery.
From Maga to Kavos, vote for the most tragic girls holiday:
Maga is a firm favourite for party lovers. There’s pretty much a 1,000 per cent chance that this holiday is going to be messy. BCM, Magaluf’s super club costs 30 euro to get in but allows unlimited drinks all night long, after this holiday you’re never going to want to drink sex on the beach again. Combine the free drinks with the foam parties and the rodeo bull in BCM square and you know you’re in for a good night, but be prepared to say goodbye to your dignity.
Kavos gained fame after the C4 series ‘what happens in Kavos’ and is pretty much a sixth formers playground. The booze here probably wouldn’t be legal at home and there notorious cocktail the headfucker pretty much does what it says on the tin. Kavos is great for a wild week of hard-core drinking and partying. There’s plenty of dancing on the street and Atlantis’s tragic attempt at a full moon party.
Zante is wild. A public school paradise, everyone seems to bump into someone they know here or have some kind of mutual connection. Theres drunk henna everywhere that your mum definitely wouldn’t approve of.
You’re going to Ibiza to get crazy drunk and spend a ridiculous amount of money in the super clubs. Ibiza town is a little bit classy though, so head to San Antonio with its mix of clubs and bars and its growing Hen and Stag do vibes. Despite its extensive choice of clubs such as Eden Ibiza and Ocean beach, you’ll probably still end up in British party fave Ibiza Rocks.
Budapest is gorgeous and ridiculously cheap. In the daytime you can walk up Gellert hill for the amazing views, and at night head to the famous parties in the baths there. The parties are famous for being scandalous, and not the most hygienic. If you want an STI – this is the place for you. On the bright side, when you’ve consumed that much cheap beer you probs won’t even care.
Ooo ahh Malia, I said oo ah Malia. If its got its own chant you, know its going to be rowdy. In Malia you can dance on tables for free stuff from Reflex bar to squeeze and the promos crazy. Girls wearing next to nothing and boys on the prowl are inevitable. If you fancy a free gas chamber whip your boobs out and all is well. The paint parties are also super messy.
Croatia has become popular over the last couple of years probably due to its amazing festivals. Croatia is home to both Outlook and Hideout festivals which bring flocks of tourists to party in the sun. It’s also home to the tiny party island Hvar. Croatia hasn’t been totally invaded by the Brits yet so is the perfect place to go if you want to be a little bit fashionable, but soon it’ll be as tragic as the rest.
At uni your summer is four months long so why not go a little bit further afield. Thailand is for many paradise, the beaches are nothing like you get on this side of the ocean. However for the last five years it’s been filled with Brits and you can tell, its not really an authentic place to go anymore with pretty much everywhere selling pizza and burgers. The islands off Thailand have become famous for their crazy parties in particular Koh Phangan for the ‘Full Moon’ but don’t expect to remember much of this. If you go between May and November also prepare for grey skies and rain as its monsoon season!
The main party street in Marbella, Puerto Banus, is a sweaty, slimy, hellish corridor of people slurping drinks out of small glasses and each other’s orifices. And when you’re 17, this is basically the most fun thing you could possibly imagine.
You were thrilled to discover that everything is cheap and no-one is wearing any clothes – you’d never felt this grown-up or alive, and you’re not entirely sure if you have since. You thought every promoter was flirting with you (no, hun) and you couldn’t get enough of the Irish bars – which is lucky, because for some reason they’re everywhere.
Before you discover that actually, objectification is really grim, it’s quite fun getting chatted up by every slimy 40-year old Spaniard who you trip over on the way to buy fags (which were so easy to buy).
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