Skint in Ibiza

Skint.

Absolutely skint…

and sweating like a heavy weight boxer. So unlady like. I’m almost in tears.

Here I am in the clubbing capital of the world (aka Ibiza), with 5 euros in my pocket watching multimillion dollar yachts slice through the Mediterranean Sea on this balmy August afternoon. I’m sitting outside at a café that has a history of serving the best homemade Hierbas Ibicencas, an anise (pronounced “ann – nis”) based liqueur flavored with rosemary and herbs. A favorite before dinner, after dinner, way waaaay after dinner drink of the Ibizan proletariat. I won’t have the pleasure of sampling it today. At least not until tomorrow when a $600 deposit should post to my account.

Good thing it’s Sunday. The day of the infamous (and free) Bora Bora beach party. Good thing Coco, the colorful tranny I met last week is working the beach bar today. A few shots at least for saving her ass from a beating last night. Long story. Don’t underestimate the power of instant friendship abroad! Good thing again that I scored a free pass into the We Love Sundays at Space party which is across the street from Bora Bora. A savings of $50 euros! So you see the best party of your life can be affordable if you’re crafty.
I’m not going to lie to you. This place can suck your dollars faster than a Hoover, but you must be here. No matter the cost. Steal a car, sell a kidney, take out an extra student loan, it doesn’t matter just get here! You’ll find the perfect 30 degree weather, tapas, paella, but this is only a fraction of what you come for.

You’re probably wondering why you should bother to come here instead of Las Vegas or…ahem…Cancun. In fact very few Americans know if this place. It may sound like any beach resort, but there is a single thing that separates Ibiza from its many competitors’. The anthem. The atmosphere. That euphoric feeling of hearing that song for the first time among your brothers and sisters of the world and realizing that no matter what divides you, we are all connected by the music. The colorful (and sometimes slightly intoxicated) locals and tourists that make up the spicy stew that is la Isla Blanca.

Life is indeed good and you can have a slice of the good life too. And not only that. All the world’s future dance music is tested on Ibiza’s dance floors first. You’ll have bragging rights till next year.

The “good time” conglomerates descend on the island during season which runs roughly from May- September of every year. Ministry of Sound, BBC Radio 1, Mixmag and quite a few more come to throw some wicked 12+ hour parties with the best djs of the world. And just in case you haven’t noticed the many billboards, cd’s and beach towels advertising the parties enticing you out, there’s the Evissa City night parade where every club showcases the reason why you can’t miss their night. That’s until the party ends in September and the island is turned back to the locals until May of next year.

Quite a few people have called this island home before the clubbers descended in the 1980’s. The Carthaginians struck white gold (i.e. salt) when they founded and set up trade here in 654 b.c. In the days before refrigeration, salt was a most coveted spice as it could preserve all manner of food…and not to mention make it taste better. Today, Salinas beach is world famous for its perfect 10 nude sunbathers, but in the Carthaginian era its shores were chock full of the stuff. Needless to say, Ibiza became the envy of its African and European neighbors.

The Romans kicked out the Carthaginians in 123 b.c. and established Ebusus where the island flourished as a trading spot until the fall of the Roman Empire in 476 a.d. By this time the history gets a bit cloudy as the Visigoths, Byzantines and various other groups attempted to establish sovereignty over the island.

I won’t bore you too much with this crap. This isn’t one of the great historical sites. People come here for one reason: to party and party well.

 

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