My trip to Ibiza started off by having to pick up the trail
of socks Avery left behind him while he screamed like a little girl and
sprinted towards Gate 15. I’ve never had to run through an airport to catch a flight before this and I have to admit it was sort of thrilling. Casey, Tom,
Avery, and I arrived a little late to the airport and with only one person
working the Visa Check desk, being a little late turned into cutting it
extremely close. Ibiza is, as Tom described it, “Avery’s World Series”. Even if
it took palming a woman’s face out of the way, he was going to make that
flight. I won’t confirm if it came down to that, but the kid wasn’t taking
any chances. You see, the thing with living this kind of lifestyle is once you start, you don't slow down and you can’t just stop. There is no red light; there is no off switch. In the end, we made the flight. We made it to the World Series.
Ibiza is paradise- delicious, tropical paradise. The water
is crystal clear, the mountains are stunning, and the food is fantastic. It is
actually the perfect island. We stayed in Hotel Simbad: a trendy place nestled
in a cove with a pool that ran right along the Mediterranean Sea. We ate authentic paella and pan amb oli that easily tops the list of delicious food we've been able to indulge in this semester.
We planned this trip back in February as our last hoorah of
the semester- the perfect sendoff for an unreal semester abroad. The fact that
it’s come and gone makes the realization that we have exactly two weeks left of
this lifestyle painfully clear. Even though that’s true, I couldn’t have asked
for a better final trip. The weather was perfect and the company was just right
for the occasion. We spent our days lounging by the pool drinking Sangria and
swimming in the Mediterranean Sea amongst an array of tiny sailboats. I could
spend forever in that crystal water just floating around; it didn’t seem real.
I even sunbathed topless. Why? Because I was on an island off the coast of
Spain, and because why not?
Friday night, I watched one of the most beautiful sunsets
I’ve ever seen from edge of the hotel pool. It was entirely sublime- I wish I
could feel that way forever. I’ve come to realize how much I like being the
people we are over here, the people we are right now. If it were possible to
live in a specific moment for the rest of my life, that sunset would be a
serious contender.
Ibiza is a beautiful island that might as well be the
geographical equivalent of sunshine, but what it’s known for happens when that
light turns out. Ibiza, aka the party
island: paradise for house music lovers and the number one destination for
raging. It's easy to see why we had to make this trip before we left Europe. Ibiza is home to more than a few world famous nightclubs that Avery has
been dreaming about for longer than most people have even known what bass is. This is where Pacha Ibiza comes in. When Tom asked Avery what his problem was in response to his nonstop pacing before we left for the
club, Avery said, “I don’t have a problem. I
have a destiny”.
Pacha knows what it’s doing, and holy shit, it does it well.
The place was packed, the place was electric, the place swallowed you whole. We
started dancing when we walked in and didn’t stop until we walked out around
4:30am.
While we were inside, I had the pleasure of hearing arguably
the most transcendent monologue ever spoken in a nightclub. The topic? Michael.
From my strobe light filled memory, the general idea went along these lines:
“Take a moment to thank god for Michael Jackson. He was the trendsetter; he
made this night happen. He refused to allow other people to decide his
boundaries. It was Michael that taught us how to be alive, how to love each
other, and how to peak and never fall back down”. And then we dance. The next
day Avery threw up house music. It was lime green and made the floor shake.
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| I've spent too much time hungover in foreign airports. |
Ibiza is a whole different level of living. It’s an
alternate reality that has me begging to go back again soon; it was the perfect
end to a perfect chain of trips. Two more weeks until all of us have to wake up
from this dream. Deep breaths, just take deep breaths.
Cross all of this off my bucket list:
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| Sunburn in the making. See below. |
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| Post falling asleep in the sun-ouch, ouch, ouch. |
