gingerfreak
New Member
Friday
Left Robin Hood Airport and arrived at about 3 on Saturday morning at the Garbi Apts, had a couple of drinks at the fiendishly expensive Coco to unwind then bed.
Saturday
Got up about 8 to get ready for a jaunt over to Santa Eulalia and Es Cana. The weather was simply atrocious as we hung round the bar waiting for everyone to arrive. Daz and Jen arrived, followed by Lisa and Carly, and we were joined by a couple of fantastically mad German chaps who insisted we all join them for a drink of milk and whisky (a lot nicer than it sounded or looked). We also received some goodies, which of course we had to test, and that combined with the rain meant SanEu was out of the question. We then met up with the other Essex girls (Adele and Jenny who were super-cool and a couple of others who were most unimpressed with the shenannigans going on - so much so we didn't see them again). I spent an hour or so chatting mainly to the lovely Adele only to discover she'd got married last month, but I was enjoying the chat so much it didn't matter. Silliness took over as I joined a hen party on the beach doing aerobics, which pretty much wiped me out.
We carried on chatting until the evening, when we meandered down to Bora Bora. The music was cool if a little predictable, so we had a dance, and by 'we' I mean 'everyone else', as I was so wiped I sat at a table trying not to fall asleep. In my defence I had had a mere ten hours sleep in about 3 nights. Not much of a defence but sue me. Swam home (the rain was pretty torrential) around midnight for a big sleep.
Sunday
Woke about eight o'clock to pouring rain, grey skies and crashing surf. It was like Flamborough in February. I wandered onto the balcony with my book, my fags and my music (IPod, ITrip and a clockwork radio, the height of technological genius) to see if it was warm enough to sit out (no) but as Paul was still asleep I slid the balcony door shut and time slowed right down as I saw, but couldn't stop, myself closing it fully and locking myself out. Still, Paul had had a heavy day on the cheekies and with my hairy chest and layer of puppy fat I reckoned I'd be ok for a bit until he woke up. One freezing hour later he opened the door to find me shivering in a ball. Ginger and blue don't really go together I've discovered.
Having thawed out we all joined up and went to Space. The rain was still coming down so part of the terrace was shut and the other bit, where you come in, was deserted. A few of us stood by the entrance to the new terrace and chatted while the others danced. The music was a bit hit-and-miss, and I was feeling a little hemmed-in, not to mention wet. Service at the bars was terrible, I stood for 30 minutes to get a bottle of water.
Around seven I'd had enough and needed some air, so I went for a walk and some space. Had a couple of coffees and watched the world go by before making a trip to Bora Bora to meet up with the others. Young Puppylover was supposed to be coming over, but the rain was playing havoc with her hip or something. Old people today have no stamina...
Bora Bora was much better this time - I do love the place - and the rain had stopped too so the table gang was back up. Around midnight we went back to Space and tried to get in the new terrace. Blimey! If I felt hemmed-in before, I was deluded. It was absolutely packed. We managed to get around the top looking for the girls, but had no chance at all of seeing them. We got onto the dance-floor to have a boogie but it was impossible without getting elbowed, and it seemed wherever we stood we were in the middle of the Ibiza-SanAn road in rush-hour. Space should rename itself Rammed. It was all too much, which was a shame as the music was excellent (The Drill was playing, I love that track), so we stood at a table near the entrance, chatting to randoms and taking the rise about the cricket out of Crush, an Aussie. At about 2 we gave in and went back.
Monday
My favourite day in Ibiza, because it's Circo Loco day. Got up bright and early, about 8 again, after the second brilliant sleep in a row. I slept much better in Ibiza than I ever do at home. Me and Paul went for a bite to eat at the cafe round the corner. The owner/waiter there is 'armless, well actually he's fingerless. Then we bought some wine (cracking bottles for 2E50) and went to Daz and Jen's room for a pre-party drink. As there were no glasses we were civilised and drank from cups and saucers.
Around 2.30 we went to DC10. It was already pretty busy by the time we got there, but it was as if we'd never been away. Everyone was lovely, loads of different nationalities there, and everyone laughing and off their nuts. I had to use all my cheekies up before the 2am flight home so I was suitably monged. Then I got a tap on my shoulder, and there was a dainty little thing all in pink. She said something to me, but I couldn't understand her, so she repeated in my ear and I STILL couldn't hear it (a combination of loud music, crap ears and swimming brain). On the fourth repetition I finally got it: 'Are you Gingerfreak?' - it was Barbie. We had a bit of a chat (sorry love, I can't remember what we talked about, but it was lovely to meet you) and then she was gone, after examining the cavity at the bottom of the wall that looked like a cartoon mousehole. Suddenly the stories began to make sense...
The rest of DC10 is a bit of a blur, but I remember we walked back to PdB and spent a lovely evening at Bora Bora again. Then it was back to Daz and Jen's balcony where we met up with Adele and Jenny and talked absolute baloney until it was time for the airport.
The journey home was unremarkable apart from Paul discovering a little something left in his pocket, which we had on the plane.
A long weekend just isn't enough.
Left Robin Hood Airport and arrived at about 3 on Saturday morning at the Garbi Apts, had a couple of drinks at the fiendishly expensive Coco to unwind then bed.
Saturday
Got up about 8 to get ready for a jaunt over to Santa Eulalia and Es Cana. The weather was simply atrocious as we hung round the bar waiting for everyone to arrive. Daz and Jen arrived, followed by Lisa and Carly, and we were joined by a couple of fantastically mad German chaps who insisted we all join them for a drink of milk and whisky (a lot nicer than it sounded or looked). We also received some goodies, which of course we had to test, and that combined with the rain meant SanEu was out of the question. We then met up with the other Essex girls (Adele and Jenny who were super-cool and a couple of others who were most unimpressed with the shenannigans going on - so much so we didn't see them again). I spent an hour or so chatting mainly to the lovely Adele only to discover she'd got married last month, but I was enjoying the chat so much it didn't matter. Silliness took over as I joined a hen party on the beach doing aerobics, which pretty much wiped me out.
We carried on chatting until the evening, when we meandered down to Bora Bora. The music was cool if a little predictable, so we had a dance, and by 'we' I mean 'everyone else', as I was so wiped I sat at a table trying not to fall asleep. In my defence I had had a mere ten hours sleep in about 3 nights. Not much of a defence but sue me. Swam home (the rain was pretty torrential) around midnight for a big sleep.
Sunday
Woke about eight o'clock to pouring rain, grey skies and crashing surf. It was like Flamborough in February. I wandered onto the balcony with my book, my fags and my music (IPod, ITrip and a clockwork radio, the height of technological genius) to see if it was warm enough to sit out (no) but as Paul was still asleep I slid the balcony door shut and time slowed right down as I saw, but couldn't stop, myself closing it fully and locking myself out. Still, Paul had had a heavy day on the cheekies and with my hairy chest and layer of puppy fat I reckoned I'd be ok for a bit until he woke up. One freezing hour later he opened the door to find me shivering in a ball. Ginger and blue don't really go together I've discovered.
Having thawed out we all joined up and went to Space. The rain was still coming down so part of the terrace was shut and the other bit, where you come in, was deserted. A few of us stood by the entrance to the new terrace and chatted while the others danced. The music was a bit hit-and-miss, and I was feeling a little hemmed-in, not to mention wet. Service at the bars was terrible, I stood for 30 minutes to get a bottle of water.
Around seven I'd had enough and needed some air, so I went for a walk and some space. Had a couple of coffees and watched the world go by before making a trip to Bora Bora to meet up with the others. Young Puppylover was supposed to be coming over, but the rain was playing havoc with her hip or something. Old people today have no stamina...
Bora Bora was much better this time - I do love the place - and the rain had stopped too so the table gang was back up. Around midnight we went back to Space and tried to get in the new terrace. Blimey! If I felt hemmed-in before, I was deluded. It was absolutely packed. We managed to get around the top looking for the girls, but had no chance at all of seeing them. We got onto the dance-floor to have a boogie but it was impossible without getting elbowed, and it seemed wherever we stood we were in the middle of the Ibiza-SanAn road in rush-hour. Space should rename itself Rammed. It was all too much, which was a shame as the music was excellent (The Drill was playing, I love that track), so we stood at a table near the entrance, chatting to randoms and taking the rise about the cricket out of Crush, an Aussie. At about 2 we gave in and went back.
Monday
My favourite day in Ibiza, because it's Circo Loco day. Got up bright and early, about 8 again, after the second brilliant sleep in a row. I slept much better in Ibiza than I ever do at home. Me and Paul went for a bite to eat at the cafe round the corner. The owner/waiter there is 'armless, well actually he's fingerless. Then we bought some wine (cracking bottles for 2E50) and went to Daz and Jen's room for a pre-party drink. As there were no glasses we were civilised and drank from cups and saucers.
Around 2.30 we went to DC10. It was already pretty busy by the time we got there, but it was as if we'd never been away. Everyone was lovely, loads of different nationalities there, and everyone laughing and off their nuts. I had to use all my cheekies up before the 2am flight home so I was suitably monged. Then I got a tap on my shoulder, and there was a dainty little thing all in pink. She said something to me, but I couldn't understand her, so she repeated in my ear and I STILL couldn't hear it (a combination of loud music, crap ears and swimming brain). On the fourth repetition I finally got it: 'Are you Gingerfreak?' - it was Barbie. We had a bit of a chat (sorry love, I can't remember what we talked about, but it was lovely to meet you) and then she was gone, after examining the cavity at the bottom of the wall that looked like a cartoon mousehole. Suddenly the stories began to make sense...
The rest of DC10 is a bit of a blur, but I remember we walked back to PdB and spent a lovely evening at Bora Bora again. Then it was back to Daz and Jen's balcony where we met up with Adele and Jenny and talked absolute baloney until it was time for the airport.
The journey home was unremarkable apart from Paul discovering a little something left in his pocket, which we had on the plane.
A long weekend just isn't enough.
