Ibiza: A Week on the White Isle

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Photo by Hayley Schubert

Going to Ibiza with your boyfriend might not be everyone’s cup of tea but after a week’s stay in San Antonio Bay, we are already pricing it up for a return trip at the end of September! We had been given varying levels of advice on how much spending money to take; some said as little as two hundred and fifty euros would suffice, whilst others boasted they had spent well over a thousand. As we weren’t intending on hitting the big clubs, we agreed to find some middle ground and I will now take great joy in reminiscing on how we spent it.

Alcohol was of top priority. Being all inclusive didn’t stop the hotel’s bar from shutting at eleven pm, but luckily the many alternative bars on the promenade leading into Ibiza’s famous West End were hard to resist. One of my most memorable shots had to have been the Roy Keane Shot, the caption accompanying it read ‘a completely f**king mental shot’. My liver definitely agreed with this the following morning as I proceeded to violently vomit down the toilet, much to my boyfriend’s amusement. It was at that moment that I decided to stick to spirits, mixers and cocktails for the remainder of my stay.

Cocktail menus meant I was spoilt for choice. From Peanut Crunch ice cream cocktails (try saying that repeatedly when you are more than a little merry), to Bellinis, Margaritas and San Franciscos, you name it, there was a cocktail for everything. A waiter specifically recommended me a Pornstar cocktail. I still to this day do not know what was in it and I wouldn’t like to guess either. Café Mambo was a great little gem to grab a drink and watch the sun set, as hundreds of people flocked there every night to witness the stunning views. As the sun melted into the sea, everyone cheered, signalling it was now time to let your hair down and live up to Ibiza’s notorious clubbing status.

Watersports are also massive in Ibiza and I had both good and bad experiences in this department. Parasailing had to be the highlight of my entire trip – effortlessly floating over the bay 1200 metres above sea level, with nothing more than a parachute, is much more relaxing than it sounds. I wasn’t so pleased when my boyfriend ripped out my nose stud with his harness when landing; however, I quite like the idea that some turtle under the sea might be rocking the nose stud now. The water rollercoaster we embarked upon wasn’t nearly as relaxing, but was equally as good as we sped through the waves at eye watering speeds, complete with sharp turns and 360° spins.

Then there was the Tornado. Picture a big buoyant pancake with handles around the perimeter, attached to a high speed jet ski. Being viciously dragged around for eight minutes on this was a nightmare – I had to pull my bikini bottoms into a g-string to ensure they didn’t fall off. Even this didn’t suffice, as I was brutally flung off at full speed in the middle of the ocean and my bikini bottoms made a bid for freedom. I managed to save them and my dignity thankfully, but I was so intent on not falling off again, I gripped the handles that tightly I still have blisters on my hands.

Not to put a dampener on things though, it was a truly amazing holiday and I would recommend Ibiza to absolutely anybody and everybody!

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