A disastrous dinner, a brilliant concert, and a night full of familiar faces, my trip to see Lionel Richie in Murcia had everything. From Hello to the final encore, it was a fantastic show and another memorable night out.
I had already booked tickets to see Europe and Simple Minds months earlier, so when I saw that Lionel Richie was performing at the same venue, I didn’t hesitate. I booked immediately. I’d seen a Lionel Richie tribute act years ago at The Ritz nightclub in Tottenham and bumped into the performer again in Southsea. He was brilliant, but this time I was finally going to see the real thing.
Bus to Murcia.
I left my apartment at 14:00 and walked to the bus stop. The bus arrived late, about 14:35, but that’s practically on time by local standards. This was my third trip to Murcia in ten days, and I was getting used to the routine.
Apartamentos Santa Isabel, Murcia.
During the journey, I received a message from my friend Gail and her boyfriend Rob asking if I’d arrived yet. When the bus reached Murcia, I followed Google Maps to my apartment for the night. The Santa Isabel apartment was easy to access, spacious, and even had a small kitchen.
I messaged Gail to arrange a meet‑up later. As I lay on the bed cooling off, my friend Donna also messaged asking to meet, but I told her I already had plans and would catch up another day.
At 18:00, I left the apartment and walked to meet Gail and Rob, only to find the place absolutely packed. No tables, no shade, no chance. I messaged Gail and told her to meet me instead at the place Donna was going to be, and continued walking.
Mercado de Correos.
When I arrived, I found Donna quickly. She had a table full of friends, so I sat at the next one. Ordering was a challenge, the menu was only available via QR code, and it took 35 minutes before I could even get a waiter’s attention.
I ordered a beer and a pizza. Fifteen minutes later, a beer arrived, not the one I ordered, but I drank it anyway. My pizza never came. Instead, a mystery dish appeared that none of us could identify. When I told the waiter it wasn’t mine, he insisted it was. After a short argument, he took it away.
Meanwhile, Donna’s brother and his family arrived and ordered garlic bread and lasagne. The garlic bread arrived half‑burnt, half‑raw. The lasagne situation was even worse: the waiter delivered two, placed one on our table, then walked off with the other and gave it to two attractive women nearby. When confronted, he shrugged and said they only had one left.
A complaint was made. A manager was summoned. I paid for the beers and vowed never to return.
We left and walked toward the bullring, stopping at a Dia supermarket for bottled water. I bought a cheese and ham sandwich, which caused a brief acid‑reflux battle, but I survived. As we approached the entrance, I bumped into friends Stewart and Jordana.
Lionel Richie at the Bullring.
We entered through the VIP entrance. Rob and Gail had the tops of their water bottles confiscated, but the unopened one in my pocket escaped detection.
Inside, I spotted more friends, Dave and Lynda, and we chatted while enjoying a couple of beers. Then the lights dimmed.
Lionel Richie was fantastic. He sang for around two hours, opening with Hello, just as I’d guessed. I spent most of the night dancing, singing along, and remembering just how many incredible songs he’s written, both solo and with The Commodores.
The atmosphere was brilliant, the crowd lively, and Lionel’s voice still superb. I took photos, grabbed a few video clips, and soaked up every moment.
When the show ended, we waited for the crowd to thin out before leaving. On the way out, I bumped into yet more friends, Murcia is starting to feel like a village.
Drinks After the Show.
We walked back through Murcia to the bar we’d originally planned to meet at earlier. At midnight, it was quiet, with plenty of tables free. We ordered drinks, and Gail dashed off to bring more friends over. Soon we were all chatting in the cooler night air.
Apartamentos Santa Isabel, Murcia.
We left around 01:15, and I walked back to my apartment. The room was cool, but the floor‑to‑ceiling windows had only thin net curtains. The streetlights poured in all night, making sleep difficult. I kept wondering whether people could see in as easily as I could see out.
I didn’t sleep well, and by 07:30, I gave up, showered, and left by 08:00 to walk to the bus station.
Journey Home
I arrived early, but the driver let me board the earlier bus. A young man was sitting in the disabled seats and didn’t move when I struggled aboard, so I sat next to him. He spent the entire journey pretending to be asleep, squashed against the window. Hopefully next time he’ll choose a different seat.
He got off at Torre Pacheco, and fifteen minutes later I was back in Los Alcázares. I walked home, arriving five minutes before my original bus was even due to leave Murcia.
Another great night, another great concert. I won’t be dancing on the ceiling, despite Lionel’s suggestion, but I’ve added another brilliant memory to the collection.
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