One thing really leads to another here in Spain, and since the last time you heard from me I’ve become 24 hours of Ibiza-partying richer. Just like that.
It started with V suggesting that we went for a day or two together with a friend of his (to what I obviously said W H Y N O T ?), then suddenly we had the tickets for the quick ferry over from Denia on which I soon found myself chugging down too many beers with more awesome Spaniards even before arriving to the white island…
I’ve been on Ibiza once before, together with my mum (who spent many summers here her young days) at the age of 21. I really liked it back then, but somehow never thought of going back, till now.
Being on the island with Spanish people (that have good contacts and taste of music) obviously is something different, and I knew I was in good hands even before going.
First we went to see the sunset from El Torre on the west side of the island, as seen on the above pics, before we went to some friends’ house for a pre-party.
It got wet and crowded in the most typical Spanish way and next thing I know everybody has got their nails painted with my neon pink nail polish and we’re in the parking lot outside of Amnesia, one of the oldest and most popular nightclubs on Ibiza.
Here I am with Juancar, a friend of V.
And we got some backstage going of course as V knows E V E R Y B O D Y
Among others legendaric Ricardo Villalobos and Sven Vath were playing, and many drinks, lots of dancing and hours later we went along side them to their afterparty by the harbour.
Ah, the Terrace in Amnesia looked like this when the party was over.
Unfortunately I don’t have any pictures from the circus that took place in the after party, but what I can say is that I got it confirmed once again how hilarious the DJ groupies are. In this case they were literally attacking the guys after their gigs, even lining up around them in the small venue we went to afterwards – in order to get the chance to talk to them, or have their picture taken with their idol.
We lasted for a small hour before we went to a cafe that had started serving breakfast under the cooking sun. On the way back to our friends’ flat, we had no luck with a taxi and had to call Joan to come pick us up. While waiting, exhausted after the night before, no sleep and little water we snuck into a hotel garden with a pool and jumped into it. Suddenly the security guard came for us and we ran out laughing loudly and soon jumped into Joan’s car in our soaking wet clothes.
Back “home” there were no room for us to sleep as the whole place seems to be invaded by friends that are here for the same purpose as us, so this is how big V got a power nap.
And this is how my company on the way back from Ibiza looked like today: