At the tender age of 20, having finished my second year at university, I embarked on a memorable adventure to with a friend. We had landed jobs as bartenders and had our own flat just a stone's throw from all the excitement in Playa De Las Americas - the island's party central.
The thrill of independence was what excited us most. Like many young on the island, it was our first taste of such freedom. The resort is the ideal blend for a party - a stunning beach hosting numerous boat parties, a plethora of bars featuring top DJs serving cheap drinks, and other fun-loving tourists ready for a good time.
However, there's a darker side to the island, a hidden underbelly - a serious drug underworld. It's easy to see how some unsuspecting Irish and Brits abroad can innocently land themselves in hot water, reports .
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Seven years ago, working and living in Tenerife was an absolute dream - I loved it so much that I returned for another season the following summer. Despite earning less than €4 an hour and serving drinks six nights a week, I was having the time of my life.
Our days were spent lounging by the pool or basking in the sun on the beach, while our nights were dedicated to serving drinks with a smile. When we finished work, we had VIP access to all the top festivals and lively parties.
However, the vibrant nightlife came with an unspoken rule that you'd indulge in a tipple whilst on shift. In these tourist magnets, being a bartender wasn't just about shaking up cocktails – you were expected to be the heart and soul of the party.
When the bar crawls descended, it was your signal to leap onto the bar, bust out some dance moves, and pour spirits directly into the party-goers' mouths. That said, cavorting around on the bar wasn't exactly my idea of fun - a sentiment my boss hinted at when they suggested I "needed to be more fun like the other girls".
Eventually, I switched to a karaoke bar frequented by hen and stag parties, which didn't exactly enhance my views on love, especially seeing how often newlyweds departed with the evening's entertainers.
I observed other bars engaged in more sinister activities, serving as sanctuaries for dealers throughout the night. Many young workers on the strip, oblivious to the grave risks, found themselves entangled in perilous situations linked to these dealers.
Directing drug-seeking tourists to these dealers would net them a swift €10. Meanwhile, my mate and I were practically begging for tips just to be able to afford a drink, unlike others who seemed to live without such financial concerns.
While drinking on the job was encouraged, there were penalties for overindulgence. The punishment? A €50 fine, which was more than we made in a night.
We also had to dedicate three or four hours each week to giving the bar a thorough clean. If we failed to turn up, we faced another €50 fine.
The two summers I spent there were certainly memorable, but I consider myself fortunate not to have encountered any significant issues - except for the occasion when my handbag was snatched from me as I strolled home.
Every country or city has its challenges, but these party hotspots appear to operate within their own lawless microcosms. To all young people setting off on your first party holiday, have fun, but stay vigilant.
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