Ibiza I Love You, But I'm Never Coming Back: Ibiza, Spain

Day 16-18

Maybe writing a post on Ibiza isn’t the best idea. So, I’ll keep this one short because, well, the words alcohol, all-nighters and techno are pretty much all it takes to sum up my weekend trip in Ibiza.

I left Friday afternoon to take the train to Madrid and then hopped on a plane to Ibiza. I was super nervous because the airports in Europe are the most confusing things on earth. Why there can’t be signs telling me which terminal and airline to go to is beyond me. Praise god for the Irish couple who saw the sheer panic in my newbie traveler eyes and walked me to my gate.

In Ibiza, I stayed with a girl named Rachel who I had met on a travel Facebook page that I’m a part of. Mom, if you’re reading this, yes I lied to you and told you she was from USC, there was no way you’d sleep all weekend if you knew I had never actually met her. But, now that I’m back and alive in Cordoba, there’s no reason to send a search party out for me.

Rachel is living in Ibiza this summer for what they call “season.” It’s where a bunch of 20/30 something year olds go to the island to work during the summer and live together in overly crowded apartments, while partying the days away. Not sure if I give them mad props for having the ability to kill their livers every single day and night or if I want to take them all home and make them do a juice cleanse. But, I’m definitely happy these crazy party people exist or I would have been a loner at the clubs and day parties on the island.

I got there late Friday night and Rachel picked me up, along with her roommate, Sam, and friend Braiden. Braiden rented a car for the summer for 300 euros and offers it as a taxi service for cheaper than a regular taxi. Genius, if you ask me.

That night, we went out to the dive bars near Rachel’s apartment, an area known as San Antonio. We met up with a group of Chicago guys that Rachel knew and hopped around the different bars until 6 in the morning. Yes, every single time I’ve gone out in Spain I’ve stayed out till 6 am, that’s just how they roll. If you can't beat em, join em.... or something like that.

Then, the next day, Rachel had work so her roommate Sam and I headed to a day party called Ants at an open air club, Ushuaia. Picture Vegas and Cabo on steroids and you’ve got Ibiza. The island exists pretty much solely for partying. Ants had five different DJs perform throughout the day while people swallowed drink after drink in the pool and bopped their heads up and down for hours on end by the stage. It was insane. About half way through the party, my texts to Blake went from coherent to just the word “Ibizaaaaaa” over and over again.

My flight the next day was at 8 am. Yes, I’m a full on idiot for booking such an early flight, but I made the most of it and just stayed out all night and went to the airport an hour before my flight to sleep. YOLO. Sleeping in airports is no easy task, but after a full day of screaming my lungs off and taking more tequila shots than even a giant could handle, it was easy to fall asleep on the floor of the terminal. Plus, there were 20 or more people doing the same thing. We understood each other’s pain.

So, since staying out all night was my only option, I stayed at Ants until around midnight, meeting some amazing new friends who let my poor, overheated self charge my phone in their hotel room and then met up with Rachel to go to a few of the famous clubs that Ibiza is known for.

We ended the night at Poncha, which, if you’re a true raver, you’ve heard of. Even my host PARENTS have been there, that’s how epic it is. I can’t fully describe the club because it was a mixed blur of bright lights and the same techno beat for 6 hours straight, but needless to say, my wild side was satisfied.

Now, after sleeping all day, leaving my host family rather concerned for me, I’m ready to go back to bed to make up for the two nonstop days I had in Ibiza. One uncomfortable nap in the airport, a freezing cold flight back to Madrid and a very real struggle of getting on an earlier train to Cordoba so I could get as far away from Ibiza as possible and I’m ready to sleep for the rest of my life.  

Ibiza, I love you, but I’m never coming back.