We're going to Ibiza
Posted: Saturday, October 18, 2008
by Sara O'Rourke
We did Corfu. It was absolutely fantastic. Sun, sand, sea, and lots and lots of bars.
One year later - equipped with more life experience - we felt ready to take on the ace of all clubbing hotspots, and jetted off to sunny Ibiza for another round.
Although expensive, the accomodation was everything that we needed. We had a bed each, a clean bathroom and kitchenette, and a balcony where we could smoke, should we wish to. Usually, though, it got used more to hang our bikinis to dry in the afternoons, or to spy on the passers by in the street.
Money soon ran low, and people began to worry they'd have to starve the rest of the week if we didn't begin to ration. Ingeniously, we thought we'd have a quieter night in and throw ourselves a little toga party. Our bedsheets proved nice and handy. Fashioned in white, we congregated inside one of the apartments and played some drinking games with the cheap lambrini we found at the store. Soon, the bottles were all empty. It proved very difficult to win at anything when you had to refer to all your friends by their allocated animal and fruit names. I seem to recall that I was both a cherry and a chick in the same night. Refer to a friend by their actual christian name, and pay by taking the shot. Simple rules.
Of course, once we'd all had a few rolls of the dice, we decided it would actually be a good idea to head into town. Nobody really bothered to cover up a bit, and we were therefore quite a hit in the centre in our togas! Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fact we weren't wearing very much, but that evening our frivolity reached a whole new level. There was flashing.
As ridiculously good fun as it was, I look back on the holiday with a bit of a sour aftertaste. As with any holiday you share with a large group of friends, there were our conflicts. They did well to break us up, cause quite unnecessary tension, and generally make the experience quite uncomfortable. Likewise, I felt that Ibiza itself was not the friendliest of places. Whereas in Corfu, if you were say sat at the side of the road looking alone or sick, nearly everyone would approach you and offer to get you a cab, in Ibiza you would either be told to leave or robbed.
Moreover, Ibiza was too large a place to be done in one week. It was over-commercialised. It lost its Spanish culture all together. Everyone was english. It was dirty, busy, and dangerous. In the clubs, although the nights were incredible and the clubs themselves out of this world, it was often way too packed to even turn around. Often I ended up feeling faint and sick and wanting to get outside.
With no surprise, thus, it can be said that it is definitely more hardcore than Kavos. It does itself proud in being party central, dance capital of the world. It is a name it certainly deserves. It's not for the faint-hearted, I warn, and not for those seeking anything low-key and civilised. It is the most random place I have ever visited. One morning, on my way down to the pool, I opened the elevator door to a man, passed out, holding a melon with both hands!
Of course, undoubtedly, everyone has to experience it while they are young. It is one of the many boxes to tick on the life 'to do' list, and so it should be. I recommend it to you with only those few reservations with regards to safety, but otherwise suggest that you hold out until you're 21 to hit its shores.
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