One night in Ibiza. Everyone describes Ibiza as “Vegas on Crack” which is true because basically everything goes in Ibiza. We landed on the island in the early afternoon, checked-in to our hotel by the port, and then immediately went to the strip. Similar to Vegas, there is a main strip of clubs, hotels, and restaurants along the beach where a good portion of the debauchery occurs. We grabbed lunch, a couple drinks, and laid out on the beach while Electronic Dance Music (EDM) blared throughout the town. We wandered around, got a small taste of the insane culture, and then headed back to our hotel to get ready for the night.
“Ibiza’s modest population of 132,637 is swallowed whole by the six-million-odd tourists that descend on it each year.” – Lonely Planet
That night, we taxied over to Cream by Amnesia to see Calvin Harris, Above&Beyond, Mat Zo, Chris Lake, and various other DJs perform in the multistage, massive indoor arena. We squeezed our way upfront to the main stage and in typical sketchy Ibiza fashion, we paid off the bouncer to let us into the VIP section. From there we watched everything from the balconies above the stages. We stood up there for hours dancing and watching the amazing LED productions. I was just as entertained people watching as I was watching the actual performers. We partied until the early morning and it was ridiculously packed the entire time. I can’t even begin to explain the creatures who find their way to Ibiza, I honestly did not know that there were so many sixty-year-olds who love EDM.
The next day we went to Bora Bora Beach Club, positioned centrally along the strip. We discovered some random bars, raunchy foam pits, and other various places to kick back since our flight out wasn’t until midnight. At some point we rented a paddle boat with a slide and attempted to steer that in the ocean. It was a lot like Kayaking, you neglect to remember the workout aspect of the activity, and are terribly sore within ten-minutes. Luckily, a little liquid courage and some strong currents eventually helped us back to shore.
To sum up Ibiza, just imagine walking down the strip where all you can hear is “Yay, Moll-ay, MDM-ay?” escaping the mouths of slightly worrisome, but typically harmless promoters dangling bags of cocaine in your face. Meanwhile, cops are too busy dealing with epileptic tourists on the beach to care. From a legal perspective, Ibiza is essentially a free-for-all since I can guarantee someone else is doing something much worse at any given moment. Ibiza was definitely out of control and after less than 36hours, I was more than ready to begin my adventures in France.