Mainly because I’m going to write about it in this here blog.
It’s late on a Monday morning, I’m extremely tired and I can feel the beginnings of a multitude of illnesses approaching. But this is, and only can be, a symptom of an amazing trip. I had it after camp, after tour, after Genesis Israel and now I can appreciate my Ibiza flu.
Because I had the most incredible time ever and I think I can safely say it has been the highlight of my year abroad so far.
Oh yeah.
It all began at midnight on Tuesday evening, when we boarded a bus filled with suitcases filled with alcohol. Oh the struggle of getting a suitcase with 4 bottles of vodka and 6 of gin on board. Fortunately, Soraya hits the gym on a regular basis so we were sorted.
Due to the late departure time, and the fact that we would be driving through the night, I was hoping to get some sleep. This was not to happen, because we had chosen to sit in front of a group of overexcited French ‘lads’ who were getting the party started ASAP, along with their new Italian friend who didn’t know how to keep her voice down and to whom I quite wanted to give a nice healthy smack.
Eventually we arrived at Dénia, where we got the ferry to Ibiza. At this point I found out that they’d got my names confused and thought I was called Rose. I was called Rose for the rest of the trip. Just no.
The ferry itself was fine, a little bumpy, but relatively quick.
After many, many, (many) hours of travelling, and a very unnecessary wait for check-in, we finally got to our apartment. Soraya, Jayne and I were lucky enough to have an apartment to ourselves and for the amount we paid, it was actually rather nice. For the 335€ we paid we got: travel to and from Granada, accommodation, entry to 4 clubs and travel to and from said clubs, a free drink every night, entry to a water park and a ferry to and from the island of Fomentera. Pretty decent if you ask me.
We unpacked and stocked up on supplies from a local supermarket and then we got to go to the beach.
What we’d all been waiting for, TANNING TIME.
BEACH BEACH BEACH BEACH.
We tanned, we relaxed, we gave dirty looks at anyone who squirted water out of water guns at us and we didn’t speak to anyone.
That night we had a ‘school party’. Though I’m not usually a fan of themed-nights out, it did make deciding what to wear easier. White shirt (H&M, 9.99€), pink tie (Chino, 2€) and denim shorts (wearer’s own). The co-ordinators had told us girls to wear extra short skirts, showing that sexism is well and truly alive in Spain.
At the end of the night, it was coming up to 6am and we were cold and we couldn’t find our bus, but we could find the Malaga bus, who were staying at the same apartment complex as us. They didn’t want to let us on the bus, even though they knew we were cold, tired and so done with standing outside. Luckily we had Jayne – or as she is now known, Janine (her drunken alter-ego) – who knew one of the Malaga co-ordinators (for what reason, we still don’t know, but he had her full name and ESN details saved in his phone) and he let us onto their bus.
The next day, ever the active participants, we eschewed the organised activities and headed to the beach to chill and tan. Perfection.
Beach vibes
In the evening we took a taxi to San Antoni, the more touristic area of the island and had a wander around the city centre and the port. We ended up having dinner overlooking the port at a health restaurant where all the food was organic – and incredible. I had a double decker roasted vegetable sandwich with sweet potato fries and coleslaw, with an energy water, which consisted of water with raspberries and lime. I’m still drooling about it now.
NOM.
After dinner, we walked back along the port to the legendary Café del Mar, which is famous for its chilled-out playlists and stunning views of the sunset. We managed to nab a table right on the terrace and had some cocktails as we watched the sun go down.
That night was the Water Party – possible the night we had been anticipating the most, because we had no idea exactly what it would entail. We’d YouTubed it before and had an inkling that the water rose up from the bottom of the club and we might get a little wet. They also told us to wear closed toe shoes, so I made sure to buy some 10€ trainers before the trip.
As alcohol is the ultimate liberator we managed to make some foreign friends on our way there. They taught us their songs and chants and we in turn taught them ours. By the time we were off the bus, we had them running down the street, screaming ‘YOU WOT, YOU WOT’ at the top of their lungs. Nothing quite like cultural amalgamation.
For the first four or so hours, it was like a normal club, with very good music and the usual antics. Janine was swinging from a chandelier and Soraya did pull-ups on the very same chandelier. No issues there.
By the time we got to four/five am, we were all in the central pit where the water was meant to come from. It was a sweaty, clustered trench filled with perspiring bodies and major overheation (hi mum). People were stripping left, right and centre into bikinis and swimwear we had luckily put on underneath our clothes. In the sticky mess, we began to chant: “AGUA, AGUA, AGUA, AGUA”. Half an hour later, we would not be so desperate.
After what felt like hours, water began to drip from sprinklers above us and within seconds, we were drenched. Full on drowned rats.
So much worse than this.
The pit filled up to waist height and we were clinging to each other for dear life as the water drowned us and we struggled to stay standing. I’m quite proud to say that only myself, Soraya, David and Freddie made it to the end – though as I’m the weakest and littlest one, I have to thank them for keeping me alive.
Well, don’t.
At the end, we waded out of the pool, sopping wet but feeling exhilarated. We had packed dry clothes into a rucksack and stored it in a cloakroom, so went to change out of our sodden rags that were once clothes. I also fell down the slippy stairs on the way and have a cracking blue bruise to show for it.
You’d think after nearly drowning, we’d be pretty down, but we were so happy and proud of our achievements. We went home on the bus, watched the sunrise and had some toast to celebrate.
Survivors: post-agua.
The next day, we were treated to yet more water, in a more relaxed form. We had entry to Benimussa Water Park, where we chilled out with music, drinks, a pool party and a foam party. If I’m being honest, the foam party wasn’t exactly chilled. I’d been to one before in Birmingham, where foam fell from the sky in light bubbles and we played around in it and threw it at each other and it was very safe. This was nothing like it.
This foam party was rammed with people and had a great, huge, foam gun that shot out foam and within 5 seconds my face was covered, I couldn’t see, it was up my nose, in my ears, down my throat. Of course, because I’m so small, it got me even worse and I thought I was facing the end. Even screaming for help did not help. I was like Will in the Inbetweeners, stuck and helpless.
Mummy, or ambulance.
After standing for a moment and screaming for help, I decided I couldn’t find my friends and it would be safer to just fight my way out. I struggled out of the crowd, coughing my guts up and was finally free from the foam. An hour later after we’d all calmed down and started to see the funny side, we returned to the scene of the crime to throw the lingering foam at each other and take a photo with some strategically placed foam.
Survivors. Again.
We chilled out by the pool, danced to the music and eventually made our way back to the bus feeling extremely satisfied and happy with the day. It was becoming difficult to decide which day had been the best of my year abroad. I was thinking the day before, but after the neon party that night, I might have been prepared to change my mind.
The club we went to was within walking distance so we made our way there on foot, covered in neon paint and with our matching neon sunglasses that were gifted to us by the co-ordinators. Obviously mine were pink and nicely matched my clothes.
Once we were inside we partied the night away and raved it up until the early hours. Jayne made lots of friends and achieved two targets she had set herself earlier in the day. Congratulations Janine!!
I’m proud to say we were the last ones in the club and at 6.05am we were still dancing away in an empty room. GIRLS NIGHT WITH DAVE. ❤️❤️
LAST ONES IN THE CLUB.
I can’t even describe what made it so fun that night. We just loved the music, loved each other and loved Ibiza. We were high on life. After being escorted out by security who were ready to close up the club, we had a leisurely stroll back to the apartment as the sun came up. It was blissful.
As we had to be up and out of the room at half 10, we fully intended to stay up and pack for leaving Ibiza, but by half 7 I was majorly struggling to keep my eyes open and passed out for a couple of hours sleep.
We could have afforded more sleep, because even though we were up and ready at half 10, the co-ordinators obviously weren’t and we had to wait another hour or so to actually sort out the activity of the day.
For the day, we got a ferry over to the island of Fomentera, which is the most stunning island with a series of gorgeous beaches. In our hungover and exhausted states, somehow us three managed to forget to bring bikinis, towels or flip flops. Or sun cream. To the beach. Idiots.
When we arrived at the beach, it was the most blissful sight.
Ahhhhhh
We relaxed all day on the sands, eating the most unhealthy food possible and paddling in the waters. We also climbed up some rocks to the other side of the beach for a secluded sight of even more stunning views. We also saw some unexpected sights as it turned out we had found the nudist beach. 👍👌
I had my first ice cream of the season that day and also spent the day attached to my phone waiting for any and every news of the royal baby. Welcome to the world, Princess of Cambridge. By the end of the day, everyone was pretty much sick of my royal family adoration.
Crew love
For the final night, we had the White Hippie Party, where our overuse of peace signs finally came in handy. We attempted to pack as much as possible beforehand as check out was at 9am the next morning, but somehow at 8am I found myself still a little tipsy, trying to remember to pack everything.
For the Hippie Party we went to Eden club and tried not to get too upset about our final night in Ibiza. It was like a dream. We danced and partied, and ended up peaking a little too early and left before the coach did to get some much needed rest. Maybe I would’ve stayed longer, maybe I should’ve stayed longer, but in my head, the perfect thing to do would be go back to the apartment and get a McDonalds.
Unfortunately, the cab driver had other ideas and refused to take us to McAuto – Spain’s answer to the Drive Thru.
We returned to the flat and Soraya and I became chefs, making fried mushrooms and tomatoes on toast. Yum yum yum yum yum.
Hippie life. So much love.
The next day was our return to the mainland. A long day of much travelling and exhaustion, but mainly reminiscing on our amazing five days on the island. Without a doubt, that trip was the epitome of what a year abroad should be: sun, sea and super friends. And Spanish of course, which we practiced a lot with the Italians.
And now, I’m sat in class, attempting to concentrate and wishing I was back on that beach. Even if I fail all my exams, at least now I know that my year abroad was a success because of that trip – the trip of a lifetime. So thank you ESN Granada, thank you my friends and thank you Spain for giving me a real treat and a real experience.
Obligatory Blair gif: Me in Biza.
I’ll always have Ibiza. Or Beefa, as we lovingly call it in our common English accents.
#peaceout
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