The Siren Calls - June 2011
- Thread starter kimajy
- Start date
kimajy
Well-Known Member
A bit of sport – and a painful encounter
Turn back towards Cala de Bou. The water looks especially calm for this time of day and the wind seems down. I'm back earlier than usual. Out of the blue, I'm once again distracted from my intended path as it dawns on me to seize the moment and go wakeboarding. Just really fancy doing something a bit more active than having a swim. It's afternoon and I skip Playa s'Estanyol, carry on through San Antoni, park parallel to the beach at Es Caló d'es Moro and hook up with the guys with the boat in front of Canguiri. Haven't tried them before and I want to give their boat a go. Give the driver fifteen minutes to finish his beers and I'm on. English is in short supply here and the driver has no idea of my level. Get kitted up and board the boat with driver and his girlfriend, who jumps in to ‘spot'. We head off into the bay.
Although the boards are basic, they're OK, but the bindings are a terrible fit and I persevere for something better. I'm wearing Mystic kitesurf boardies - the guy driving looks very hard at them, then at me, and lovingly produces his own prized new Jobe board from the inside storage, with some decent bindings which fit me fine. Cheers, Amigo !
He throws the board and handle into the water. I jump off the side of the boat, swim over to put the board on and grab the handle. The rope pulls tight. We're off and I'm up. There's still considerable wind/chop and some other craft in the area are creating turbulence. The boat's got an outboard engine and the wake's tiny and off-balance. It's not a comfortable ride but I'm loving being behind a boat in the sunshine again and the view from the bay is great.
Anyone who's given it a go on the sea will appreciate that a straight 20minute ride with chop is fairly knackering at the best of times, especially if it's too rough to cut in properly and you're not crashing out trying to nail new tricks, getting a needed rest in the process. I make it to 15 minutes and pat my head, giving the international signal to go back in. You're well out of shape, boy !! The driver and spotter don't appear to know this signal and swing me out again in the opposite direction.. Blimey !
I keep the handle and make an effort with simple little jumps and ollies. No way I'm ‘going large' off this boat. I have another go at getting towed in as we pass by Canguiri again. Nope – they're not understanding ! I throw down the handle, surf off the momentum and sink into the bay. What the problem, what the problem ?!!! No problem ! I'm done and need a Mojito, that's all !! Suddenly the English comes out - come on, man !! Just once more round the bay then “we let you stop†.... Oh, alright then! Anywhere else the chance to save five minutes of fuel would be taken as a bonus..
I'm physically wiped now, but feeling an endorphine high that only motorised watersports gives you. Keep the handle as they idle the boat back to shore to save too long a swim in, pass the board back to the boat and haul myself up a rock to get out of the water.
What the f**k was that … feels like I've ripped my toe open on the rock. God it hurts. I must be well sober ! I collect my car key, bid my farewells and not wanting to make a scene, blank my mind and tough it out back to the car.
The toe of my left sandal has by now accumulated a little red pool to match the paintwork of my latest wheels. I've sliced the sole of my foot (no big deal), but more pertinently my left big toe is full of black urchin spines. No warning about that as I was getting out by those rocks then guys ? Cheers ! Sit in the car picking spines out of my toe telling myself it doesn't hurt.. They break like crazy and the points are lodged in deep. Must have pushed down on the urchin as I pulled myself up out of the water. I use my thumbnails as makeshift tweezers and eventually manage to get all but the tiniest tips out. Pour some of my drinking water over the whole to wash the blood from the cut and head to Canguiri for my first Mojito of the day. Man, I'm ready for this. It's well overdue.
Turn back towards Cala de Bou. The water looks especially calm for this time of day and the wind seems down. I'm back earlier than usual. Out of the blue, I'm once again distracted from my intended path as it dawns on me to seize the moment and go wakeboarding. Just really fancy doing something a bit more active than having a swim. It's afternoon and I skip Playa s'Estanyol, carry on through San Antoni, park parallel to the beach at Es Caló d'es Moro and hook up with the guys with the boat in front of Canguiri. Haven't tried them before and I want to give their boat a go. Give the driver fifteen minutes to finish his beers and I'm on. English is in short supply here and the driver has no idea of my level. Get kitted up and board the boat with driver and his girlfriend, who jumps in to ‘spot'. We head off into the bay.
Although the boards are basic, they're OK, but the bindings are a terrible fit and I persevere for something better. I'm wearing Mystic kitesurf boardies - the guy driving looks very hard at them, then at me, and lovingly produces his own prized new Jobe board from the inside storage, with some decent bindings which fit me fine. Cheers, Amigo !
He throws the board and handle into the water. I jump off the side of the boat, swim over to put the board on and grab the handle. The rope pulls tight. We're off and I'm up. There's still considerable wind/chop and some other craft in the area are creating turbulence. The boat's got an outboard engine and the wake's tiny and off-balance. It's not a comfortable ride but I'm loving being behind a boat in the sunshine again and the view from the bay is great.
Anyone who's given it a go on the sea will appreciate that a straight 20minute ride with chop is fairly knackering at the best of times, especially if it's too rough to cut in properly and you're not crashing out trying to nail new tricks, getting a needed rest in the process. I make it to 15 minutes and pat my head, giving the international signal to go back in. You're well out of shape, boy !! The driver and spotter don't appear to know this signal and swing me out again in the opposite direction.. Blimey !
I keep the handle and make an effort with simple little jumps and ollies. No way I'm ‘going large' off this boat. I have another go at getting towed in as we pass by Canguiri again. Nope – they're not understanding ! I throw down the handle, surf off the momentum and sink into the bay. What the problem, what the problem ?!!! No problem ! I'm done and need a Mojito, that's all !! Suddenly the English comes out - come on, man !! Just once more round the bay then “we let you stop†.... Oh, alright then! Anywhere else the chance to save five minutes of fuel would be taken as a bonus..
I'm physically wiped now, but feeling an endorphine high that only motorised watersports gives you. Keep the handle as they idle the boat back to shore to save too long a swim in, pass the board back to the boat and haul myself up a rock to get out of the water.
What the f**k was that … feels like I've ripped my toe open on the rock. God it hurts. I must be well sober ! I collect my car key, bid my farewells and not wanting to make a scene, blank my mind and tough it out back to the car.
The toe of my left sandal has by now accumulated a little red pool to match the paintwork of my latest wheels. I've sliced the sole of my foot (no big deal), but more pertinently my left big toe is full of black urchin spines. No warning about that as I was getting out by those rocks then guys ? Cheers ! Sit in the car picking spines out of my toe telling myself it doesn't hurt.. They break like crazy and the points are lodged in deep. Must have pushed down on the urchin as I pulled myself up out of the water. I use my thumbnails as makeshift tweezers and eventually manage to get all but the tiniest tips out. Pour some of my drinking water over the whole to wash the blood from the cut and head to Canguiri for my first Mojito of the day. Man, I'm ready for this. It's well overdue.
kimajy
Well-Known Member
My final sunset approaches
Head down the promenade past the Sunsea bar and Kanya. A gorgeous English girl in a chic dress with a perfect tan smiles and says Hola ! to me as I walk past, whilst friends with their little dogs on leads exchange pleasantries. I've noticed her there before. So nearly stop but instead return a warm smile and Hola ! I'm obviously not looking English today and don't want to spoil the illusion by attempting more. There's something about sunshine and a bit of sport that seems to get you going. Must confess to more than a slight stirring in my shorts and I do my best to think of other things as I head on. Let's face it, I don't need anything to point the way to Mambo from here.
Some of the Defected broadcast on Ibiza Global Radio was sounding really good in the car earlier. Still only about half seven and I manage to get a small table by the entrance to Mambo. The pre-party music's OK but not up to what was getting dropped on the radio show. Oh well – starving now (yep, 8 hours with swimming, hiking and now wakeboarding on nothing but a smoothie and a packet of Marlboro reds today.. you bet I'm hungry). The urchin incident has interfered with my concentration and I've left my b***dy credit card and wallet in the car. I find 35 Euros rolled up in my pocket. Phew - but it's not going to be a feast at Mambo today on that !
I have just about enough cash for a little plate of chorizo tortillas and a cocktail. The grooves are picking up as I savour my tortillas. I'd like to stay on awhile but the need to retrieve a 'means of payment' brings my Mambo dinner to a premature close. Take a stroll along the strip and stop to look at the club ticket rundown for tonight.
Finally a plucky tout (Essex girl ?) half-heartedly tries to flog me a ticket. I'm not up for Pacha on my own (memories of sexy nights with lovely dates to spoil ..) , nowhere official to smoke in Amnesia yet, so I gather (sorry guys you're off my list until you sort that out), Eden - no. Es Paradis – maybe 10 years ago or with a much younger group, but not tonight. Well what about Café Olé ? Other considerations aside, there's no way I can cope with Space more than once in a short trip and I had to fend off more than enough unwanted polysexual attention at the Supermartxé pre-party last night. Thanks but nothing tonight, darling.
I suddenly remember about Zoo. The Opening Gala will be well underway by now ‘though I'm not feeling like going along. Wonder what's up with that guest list thing.. my mobile's still in the car with my credit cards.
Heading back, the gorgeous English girl is still where I last saw her by Sunsea Bar, but with more friends around now. We exchange ‘Hola's again. I'm still thinking of her as I discharge my last 5Euros to the Canguiri barman, sitting down on the wall outside for a last swift Mojito. The wakeboarding guys are packing up and the driver gives me a wave and a beaming smile as they head off for the night.
The news on Saturday Night Project guest list isn't good .. sorry, mate – Privilege say they closed the list last night. I'm not surprised by this at all. But Sunset Ashram now seems further away than it really is and sunset is very near.
Head down the promenade past the Sunsea bar and Kanya. A gorgeous English girl in a chic dress with a perfect tan smiles and says Hola ! to me as I walk past, whilst friends with their little dogs on leads exchange pleasantries. I've noticed her there before. So nearly stop but instead return a warm smile and Hola ! I'm obviously not looking English today and don't want to spoil the illusion by attempting more. There's something about sunshine and a bit of sport that seems to get you going. Must confess to more than a slight stirring in my shorts and I do my best to think of other things as I head on. Let's face it, I don't need anything to point the way to Mambo from here.
Some of the Defected broadcast on Ibiza Global Radio was sounding really good in the car earlier. Still only about half seven and I manage to get a small table by the entrance to Mambo. The pre-party music's OK but not up to what was getting dropped on the radio show. Oh well – starving now (yep, 8 hours with swimming, hiking and now wakeboarding on nothing but a smoothie and a packet of Marlboro reds today.. you bet I'm hungry). The urchin incident has interfered with my concentration and I've left my b***dy credit card and wallet in the car. I find 35 Euros rolled up in my pocket. Phew - but it's not going to be a feast at Mambo today on that !
I have just about enough cash for a little plate of chorizo tortillas and a cocktail. The grooves are picking up as I savour my tortillas. I'd like to stay on awhile but the need to retrieve a 'means of payment' brings my Mambo dinner to a premature close. Take a stroll along the strip and stop to look at the club ticket rundown for tonight.
Finally a plucky tout (Essex girl ?) half-heartedly tries to flog me a ticket. I'm not up for Pacha on my own (memories of sexy nights with lovely dates to spoil ..) , nowhere official to smoke in Amnesia yet, so I gather (sorry guys you're off my list until you sort that out), Eden - no. Es Paradis – maybe 10 years ago or with a much younger group, but not tonight. Well what about Café Olé ? Other considerations aside, there's no way I can cope with Space more than once in a short trip and I had to fend off more than enough unwanted polysexual attention at the Supermartxé pre-party last night. Thanks but nothing tonight, darling.
I suddenly remember about Zoo. The Opening Gala will be well underway by now ‘though I'm not feeling like going along. Wonder what's up with that guest list thing.. my mobile's still in the car with my credit cards.
Heading back, the gorgeous English girl is still where I last saw her by Sunsea Bar, but with more friends around now. We exchange ‘Hola's again. I'm still thinking of her as I discharge my last 5Euros to the Canguiri barman, sitting down on the wall outside for a last swift Mojito. The wakeboarding guys are packing up and the driver gives me a wave and a beaming smile as they head off for the night.
The news on Saturday Night Project guest list isn't good .. sorry, mate – Privilege say they closed the list last night. I'm not surprised by this at all. But Sunset Ashram now seems further away than it really is and sunset is very near.
kimajy
Well-Known Member
‘Boner 3'
Resolve to go home for a swim, a proper shower and to get packed up ready for tomorrow but despite best laid plans, I'm officially randy and get waylaid by a stop at pick-up central, BN3 (Boner 3..) on the route home. Why, oh why did I not just go to Kumharas instead and look for a nice girl to have a ‘meaningful encounter' with ?
Hoping I might at last see some action here, I take a pew at the bar and watch MTV as I enjoy my first RB&V of the evening. Underworld's ‘Born Slippy' hits the screen and I feel strangely uneasy. The Hed Kandi pre-party hasn't started yet and a handful of couples are sat around the tables having a quiet drink together. One of the barmen is wiring in to his dinner alongside me and rather antisocially, I keep myself to myself rather than be convivial. At least I'm here and willing to make an effort to ‘put myself out there' at a respectable hour of the evening for a change.
With Aura now on my mind for later, I fire off texts to mates who live near Santa Eularia running outward bound activity days. Hadn't told anyone I was coming out (probably should have done earlier as I know it's not so straightforward to drop everything and head off partying when you're living and working somewhere with a family to consider !). Fair do's – I'm out again in a week and a half so catch up then instead with a bit more notice ? Guess I'm at BN3 without a wingman tonight - not surprising really ..
Some action arrives at the bar. I turn around – shucks, it's a big gang of lads on a stag do bearing the wounds of a prior night's brawling in the West End, here to settle in for their pints and sunken chasers. I'm feeling particularly sober now. They're pleasant enough guys at this stage of an evening and we compare notes on local gents' clubs. But where are all the girls tonight ?
The pretty blonde bargirl has a terrible cold/hayfever and has clearly befriended the group of lads the night before. One of the guys explains the drinking games they are going to play tonight and waste no time in getting underway. It's not looking promising for me here. The manager is stood at the end of the bar wearing a DC-10 t-shirt. After Thursday's disappointment I decide to see if he knows the best time to hit Ibiza Underground today, but he's never been. Nonetheless, we have a good old chin-wag about DC-10, Cocoon, ‘Ibiza by day' and agree there are some wonders of the island the stags and hens just wouldn't get.
Before descending completely into jaded old git who's up his own arse territory, I decide I'd better leave BN3 to a younger crowd tonight. Boner 3 ? Not for me ! I hadn't even asked the bar staff their names – what's up with me today ? One last RB&V at such a reasonable price that I leave the stoic pretty blonde bar girl a 5Euro tip. She looks staggered and thanks me sincerely. Is it really that rare these days ? ..
Sanity prevails and I go back to Sunset Point. There's karaoke singing coming from the pool. It's been fully rigged up and Alain's wife is well underway in a 70s duet with the compare. Being one of the only guests tonight (they're packed out July / August but very quiet in the shoulder), I feel very guilty indeed slipping upstairs to change. If I stay around it would be unfair not to join in .. but I have my ‘Just House' head on now. I decide to leave the packing ‘till later, send Alain a quick e-mail asking him to print out my new ticket home tomorrow as a favour, and shoot off out again.
Resolve to go home for a swim, a proper shower and to get packed up ready for tomorrow but despite best laid plans, I'm officially randy and get waylaid by a stop at pick-up central, BN3 (Boner 3..) on the route home. Why, oh why did I not just go to Kumharas instead and look for a nice girl to have a ‘meaningful encounter' with ?
Hoping I might at last see some action here, I take a pew at the bar and watch MTV as I enjoy my first RB&V of the evening. Underworld's ‘Born Slippy' hits the screen and I feel strangely uneasy. The Hed Kandi pre-party hasn't started yet and a handful of couples are sat around the tables having a quiet drink together. One of the barmen is wiring in to his dinner alongside me and rather antisocially, I keep myself to myself rather than be convivial. At least I'm here and willing to make an effort to ‘put myself out there' at a respectable hour of the evening for a change.
With Aura now on my mind for later, I fire off texts to mates who live near Santa Eularia running outward bound activity days. Hadn't told anyone I was coming out (probably should have done earlier as I know it's not so straightforward to drop everything and head off partying when you're living and working somewhere with a family to consider !). Fair do's – I'm out again in a week and a half so catch up then instead with a bit more notice ? Guess I'm at BN3 without a wingman tonight - not surprising really ..
Some action arrives at the bar. I turn around – shucks, it's a big gang of lads on a stag do bearing the wounds of a prior night's brawling in the West End, here to settle in for their pints and sunken chasers. I'm feeling particularly sober now. They're pleasant enough guys at this stage of an evening and we compare notes on local gents' clubs. But where are all the girls tonight ?
The pretty blonde bargirl has a terrible cold/hayfever and has clearly befriended the group of lads the night before. One of the guys explains the drinking games they are going to play tonight and waste no time in getting underway. It's not looking promising for me here. The manager is stood at the end of the bar wearing a DC-10 t-shirt. After Thursday's disappointment I decide to see if he knows the best time to hit Ibiza Underground today, but he's never been. Nonetheless, we have a good old chin-wag about DC-10, Cocoon, ‘Ibiza by day' and agree there are some wonders of the island the stags and hens just wouldn't get.
Before descending completely into jaded old git who's up his own arse territory, I decide I'd better leave BN3 to a younger crowd tonight. Boner 3 ? Not for me ! I hadn't even asked the bar staff their names – what's up with me today ? One last RB&V at such a reasonable price that I leave the stoic pretty blonde bar girl a 5Euro tip. She looks staggered and thanks me sincerely. Is it really that rare these days ? ..
Sanity prevails and I go back to Sunset Point. There's karaoke singing coming from the pool. It's been fully rigged up and Alain's wife is well underway in a 70s duet with the compare. Being one of the only guests tonight (they're packed out July / August but very quiet in the shoulder), I feel very guilty indeed slipping upstairs to change. If I stay around it would be unfair not to join in .. but I have my ‘Just House' head on now. I decide to leave the packing ‘till later, send Alain a quick e-mail asking him to print out my new ticket home tomorrow as a favour, and shoot off out again.
kimajy
Well-Known Member
San An sucks tonight
Back at Sunset Strip, the best of a particularly bad bunch on the music front is Café del Mar where Café Olé's under-subscribed pre-party is doing its best to get underway. The reps and staff are enjoying the grooves at the back but the clientele at the bar looks more tourist with guide book than clubber on mission. I grab a Caipirinha anyway and take a seat upstairs.
It's still basically deserted so I leave my fags and drink on the table to take a leak. When I return a large group of surly clubbers has now arrived and taken over my seat, clearly grappling with the wrong kind of premature hit. They very discourteously reshuffle to a table alongside without acknowledging me. I'm immediately joined for adjacent ‘company' by two lesbians who are all over each other, giggling at whatever's on their i-phone, but never once having the courtesy to say ‘Hola'. What is it with people nowadays ? It doesn't hurt anyone to be pleasant, especially when you've clearly ‘got yours'. One of them holds the phone with an outstretched arm and tries hard to take a photo, but they mutter at the result.
I decide to try to show them by example how to be nice to someone else and offer to take a picture of them together. A stifled “Si†then beaming smiles for the camera as I snap them a corker. It looks great. They grab the phone back out of my hand and with barely an acknowledgement, embark on the pressing task of connecting in for a facebook upload. It's clearly more important than saying “Graciasâ€, or even acknowledging me with a “Ciao†as I pick up my fags to leave. I give up on the common courtesy thing. San An sucks tonight !
Now I must confess to a little mental blank at this point. My memory is (somehow) still very sharp, even when I'm totally wasted (which I wasn't) but perhaps what immediately followed was so completely unremarkable that I didn't bother wasting grey cells clocking it. That, or else I'm getting older than I thought. My imagination kicks in - perhaps my unattended drink was assumed to be going spare by my former ‘companions' at Café del Mar, whose lack of humour at my return from the loos was more to do with wasted gear than lack of manners. When you're solo, it can be hard to juggle keeping a table, keeping everything with you and being able to relax. As to the cause of the ‘black hole' ? Most likely one of the former of the above-mentioned, to be fair.
My awareness picks up again heading out of San An in search of some new friends. Thank God I have options - so where to ? It's not really the best night for KM5 or Bambuddah. Way too early for Aura. No way can I handle PDB again tonight. Clean forget about Zoo again..
Back at Sunset Strip, the best of a particularly bad bunch on the music front is Café del Mar where Café Olé's under-subscribed pre-party is doing its best to get underway. The reps and staff are enjoying the grooves at the back but the clientele at the bar looks more tourist with guide book than clubber on mission. I grab a Caipirinha anyway and take a seat upstairs.
It's still basically deserted so I leave my fags and drink on the table to take a leak. When I return a large group of surly clubbers has now arrived and taken over my seat, clearly grappling with the wrong kind of premature hit. They very discourteously reshuffle to a table alongside without acknowledging me. I'm immediately joined for adjacent ‘company' by two lesbians who are all over each other, giggling at whatever's on their i-phone, but never once having the courtesy to say ‘Hola'. What is it with people nowadays ? It doesn't hurt anyone to be pleasant, especially when you've clearly ‘got yours'. One of them holds the phone with an outstretched arm and tries hard to take a photo, but they mutter at the result.
I decide to try to show them by example how to be nice to someone else and offer to take a picture of them together. A stifled “Si†then beaming smiles for the camera as I snap them a corker. It looks great. They grab the phone back out of my hand and with barely an acknowledgement, embark on the pressing task of connecting in for a facebook upload. It's clearly more important than saying “Graciasâ€, or even acknowledging me with a “Ciao†as I pick up my fags to leave. I give up on the common courtesy thing. San An sucks tonight !
Now I must confess to a little mental blank at this point. My memory is (somehow) still very sharp, even when I'm totally wasted (which I wasn't) but perhaps what immediately followed was so completely unremarkable that I didn't bother wasting grey cells clocking it. That, or else I'm getting older than I thought. My imagination kicks in - perhaps my unattended drink was assumed to be going spare by my former ‘companions' at Café del Mar, whose lack of humour at my return from the loos was more to do with wasted gear than lack of manners. When you're solo, it can be hard to juggle keeping a table, keeping everything with you and being able to relax. As to the cause of the ‘black hole' ? Most likely one of the former of the above-mentioned, to be fair.
My awareness picks up again heading out of San An in search of some new friends. Thank God I have options - so where to ? It's not really the best night for KM5 or Bambuddah. Way too early for Aura. No way can I handle PDB again tonight. Clean forget about Zoo again..
kimajy
Well-Known Member
The hunt goes on ..
I know, I'll hit Carre Cipriano Garijo in Ibiza Town – haven't been there for ages. It's well gone 12 and there should be something starting up at least ? When I do finally get parked, somewhere off Avinguda d'España, everyone's pretty dressed up, there's no sign of action other than some family meals going on at the local restaurants and some young Spanish couples enjoying each others' company in the squares. This is different. I take an exploratory stroll and find more of the same round every turn. It's a nice night and it's nice to see there's somewhere to go in town with the family when you don't want to have parties in your face all night.
I've long since given up on the idea of going to bed tonight and I do want to party – it's my last night here after all. Guess I'm feeling too young now ? I lose interest in carrying on down to the Port to see whether Base and the Rock Bar are still around, and it's probably sufficiently late as to render Dalt Vila a pretty ‘challenging experience' anyway. There's got to be a happy medium somewhere. I drive off in the direction of Pacha to check out Grial but it's too early here and seems to be exclusively close groups of local friends and dressed-up pre-Pacha parties tonight. No breaking in there.
OK – it's just gone 1am now. Surely Aura must be underway ? I head up the road towards Sant Joan de Labritja. It seems much closer from Ibiza Town than it did from San An last trip. Resist the temptation of a quick one in Monkey Bar (shouldn't have – it's closing at the end of the month and probably my last chance) and park up. The restaurant at Aura is packed as I arrive. Everyone is still finishing dinner. I know I'm too early but check out the music anyway.
The Ernesto Altès ‘Just House' magic is in full swing and it's sounding absolutely awesome. I can tell it's going to be good tonight. But there are only 2 other people in there and they're probably staff. I toy with settling in at the bar but I really must steady the drinking. Could have a dessert whilst waiting for the crowd to finish their meals before they get on down ? A ‘better idea' emerges...
I know, I'll hit Carre Cipriano Garijo in Ibiza Town – haven't been there for ages. It's well gone 12 and there should be something starting up at least ? When I do finally get parked, somewhere off Avinguda d'España, everyone's pretty dressed up, there's no sign of action other than some family meals going on at the local restaurants and some young Spanish couples enjoying each others' company in the squares. This is different. I take an exploratory stroll and find more of the same round every turn. It's a nice night and it's nice to see there's somewhere to go in town with the family when you don't want to have parties in your face all night.
I've long since given up on the idea of going to bed tonight and I do want to party – it's my last night here after all. Guess I'm feeling too young now ? I lose interest in carrying on down to the Port to see whether Base and the Rock Bar are still around, and it's probably sufficiently late as to render Dalt Vila a pretty ‘challenging experience' anyway. There's got to be a happy medium somewhere. I drive off in the direction of Pacha to check out Grial but it's too early here and seems to be exclusively close groups of local friends and dressed-up pre-Pacha parties tonight. No breaking in there.
OK – it's just gone 1am now. Surely Aura must be underway ? I head up the road towards Sant Joan de Labritja. It seems much closer from Ibiza Town than it did from San An last trip. Resist the temptation of a quick one in Monkey Bar (shouldn't have – it's closing at the end of the month and probably my last chance) and park up. The restaurant at Aura is packed as I arrive. Everyone is still finishing dinner. I know I'm too early but check out the music anyway.
The Ernesto Altès ‘Just House' magic is in full swing and it's sounding absolutely awesome. I can tell it's going to be good tonight. But there are only 2 other people in there and they're probably staff. I toy with settling in at the bar but I really must steady the drinking. Could have a dessert whilst waiting for the crowd to finish their meals before they get on down ? A ‘better idea' emerges...
kimajy
Well-Known Member
I sold my soul to the "Company Store"
I'm officially starved of company tonight, well and truly feeling it right now, and still horny as hell. I've ignored my instincts earlier at Sunset Ashram, bailed on BN3, bottled out of Platya d'en Bossa and mis-timed everywhere else. It's gone 1. I've been without female company in Ibiza for far too long and figure there's only one thing for it at this stage in the game. I know this is perhaps the most controversial aspect of my 'holiday activities' and don't for a moment expect girls, or guys fortunate to have met the love of their lives at an early age, to understand. Single blokes who are past the 30 mark are still capable of having the occasional ‘strong drive', believe it or not.
If our lifestyles don't make for easy or steady relationships (travelling on business doesn't help), we sometimes just give in and ‘cross the line'. Some will still disapprove, but I have no problem rationalising the oldest Profession in the world and I'm secure enough in myself at this stage of life not to be ashamed. I'm only human !
I do what we frustrated single guys do in these circumstances after a run of bad luck (or bad decisions ?) and couple of little drinkies. I resort to the nearest ‘Company Store'. There was one on the way up here. When I arrive, I'm the only one in here and the choice of ‘company' is very limited (3, to be precise). One is off her face on coke. No thanks. The other is way too young for me. That leaves the buxom blonde Romanian from Bucharest. She's affable enough and if not the best looker ever (blonde but with a very solid, ‘Germanic' (albeit well-toned frame), she at least speaks English and is no way unpleasant. She's also clearly ‘of age' and not on drugs. We share a drink and hit it off fine (no surprises there..).
I'm not up for breaking the bank partying ‘till dawn so limit my exposure to some private time alone together upstairs. You have to look beyond your surroundings in these circumstances, it has to be said. Thankfully, I know a buzzer will go off after a certain time and that it's best not to mess around too much. Just keep a sense of humour, get on with it and enjoy yourself – safely !
An hour or so later I'm refreshed, relaxed and it's my turn to use the in-room bidet. Notwithstanding my earlier homilies, as I leave I can't help feeling I've somewhat crashed back down to earth by caving in to carnal desires in such a basic way, and so soon after my uplifting brush with higher planes this afternoon. I guess we really are all human in the end. Everyone got what they wanted or felt they needed and I've behaved as charmingly and decently as I can. I turn back to look as I head out the gravel to my car. The three girls all smile and wave to me together in unison from the door. I wave back. It's actually a pretty comic scene and I chuckle as I drive away.
I'm officially starved of company tonight, well and truly feeling it right now, and still horny as hell. I've ignored my instincts earlier at Sunset Ashram, bailed on BN3, bottled out of Platya d'en Bossa and mis-timed everywhere else. It's gone 1. I've been without female company in Ibiza for far too long and figure there's only one thing for it at this stage in the game. I know this is perhaps the most controversial aspect of my 'holiday activities' and don't for a moment expect girls, or guys fortunate to have met the love of their lives at an early age, to understand. Single blokes who are past the 30 mark are still capable of having the occasional ‘strong drive', believe it or not.
If our lifestyles don't make for easy or steady relationships (travelling on business doesn't help), we sometimes just give in and ‘cross the line'. Some will still disapprove, but I have no problem rationalising the oldest Profession in the world and I'm secure enough in myself at this stage of life not to be ashamed. I'm only human !
I do what we frustrated single guys do in these circumstances after a run of bad luck (or bad decisions ?) and couple of little drinkies. I resort to the nearest ‘Company Store'. There was one on the way up here. When I arrive, I'm the only one in here and the choice of ‘company' is very limited (3, to be precise). One is off her face on coke. No thanks. The other is way too young for me. That leaves the buxom blonde Romanian from Bucharest. She's affable enough and if not the best looker ever (blonde but with a very solid, ‘Germanic' (albeit well-toned frame), she at least speaks English and is no way unpleasant. She's also clearly ‘of age' and not on drugs. We share a drink and hit it off fine (no surprises there..).
I'm not up for breaking the bank partying ‘till dawn so limit my exposure to some private time alone together upstairs. You have to look beyond your surroundings in these circumstances, it has to be said. Thankfully, I know a buzzer will go off after a certain time and that it's best not to mess around too much. Just keep a sense of humour, get on with it and enjoy yourself – safely !
An hour or so later I'm refreshed, relaxed and it's my turn to use the in-room bidet. Notwithstanding my earlier homilies, as I leave I can't help feeling I've somewhat crashed back down to earth by caving in to carnal desires in such a basic way, and so soon after my uplifting brush with higher planes this afternoon. I guess we really are all human in the end. Everyone got what they wanted or felt they needed and I've behaved as charmingly and decently as I can. I turn back to look as I head out the gravel to my car. The three girls all smile and wave to me together in unison from the door. I wave back. It's actually a pretty comic scene and I chuckle as I drive away.
kimajy
Well-Known Member
A close shave
Spark up a Marlboro red. Can't be bothered to drive back to Aura now. Pathetic, really. I know it would have been a great night and worth it. Decide to head to Ibiza Underground to see if it's kicked off there yet instead. My mind's all over the place and I mess up the turning. Spot a frightening number of flashing blue lights round Privilege. The Guarda Civil are pulling cars over left, right and centre from their base at the bottom of a small exit off the opposite roundabout. I feel a moment of intense anxiety welling up. Nothing for it but to take this head-on.
I indicate and pull deliberately in to their operations base, alongside a car whose driver is being put through the mill. The guy with the whistle ignores me as I lower the window and bold as brass, ask his colleague directions to Underground. I know damned fine where it is. He looks staggered at my behaviour, shrugs and claims not to know. I bid them a friendly Graçias and Buenas Noches, before turning up the streets behind their basecamp and exiting back past them towards San An.
Decide to cut my losses and get somewhere safer. If I'm not careful I'll have to run this gamut again and it was a bit of a reality check all in all. I really need to stow this car. So it's hey ho, hey ho, it's back to San An we go ! Make it as far as the car park opposite Ibiza Rocks bar and yes – I need a swim !!
Spark up a Marlboro red. Can't be bothered to drive back to Aura now. Pathetic, really. I know it would have been a great night and worth it. Decide to head to Ibiza Underground to see if it's kicked off there yet instead. My mind's all over the place and I mess up the turning. Spot a frightening number of flashing blue lights round Privilege. The Guarda Civil are pulling cars over left, right and centre from their base at the bottom of a small exit off the opposite roundabout. I feel a moment of intense anxiety welling up. Nothing for it but to take this head-on.
I indicate and pull deliberately in to their operations base, alongside a car whose driver is being put through the mill. The guy with the whistle ignores me as I lower the window and bold as brass, ask his colleague directions to Underground. I know damned fine where it is. He looks staggered at my behaviour, shrugs and claims not to know. I bid them a friendly Graçias and Buenas Noches, before turning up the streets behind their basecamp and exiting back past them towards San An.
Decide to cut my losses and get somewhere safer. If I'm not careful I'll have to run this gamut again and it was a bit of a reality check all in all. I really need to stow this car. So it's hey ho, hey ho, it's back to San An we go ! Make it as far as the car park opposite Ibiza Rocks bar and yes – I need a swim !!
kimajy
Well-Known Member
San An beach on a Saturday night
Lose the shoes and shirt, grab a towel, cross the road and secure the car key (I've learned that lesson by now). I'm not going to be alone here tonight ! Nothing changes and there are couples making out at suitable intervals on the beach. The two on the pier have decided they may as well have sex. OK – well it's free love and all that, but at least I got a room .. Guess dunes are in short supply when you haven't any transport.
Head in the other direction and two young lads in t-shirts and trainers are stood shoulder to shoulder with their shorts round their ankles facing the street, whilst a pissed teenage girl kneels in front of them trying to keep them both happy - one after the other. My word, darling - whatever would your mother think? Guys, couldn't you find one each or is it more reassuring doing everything together ? I keep my thoughts to myself as ever.
It's everyone's beach and I dump my towel at the water's edge and wade in. The water's shallow but super-warm tonight and I take a proper swim. As I head back towards shore a gang of five lashed young hens are done up to the nines and checking my towel to see if I've left any shorts on the beach. They'd make a great trophy, I'm sure. Been there already, my sweets when you were babies in your mothers' arms – and I keep them close at hand now in this particular venue. One shouts over that she want to come in with me. I shout back an acceptance having no intention of taking advantage.
She starts trying in vain to free herself from a high heel. It's truly comic and I start laughing. She sinks in to the sand and careers backwards into the arms of a mate. Two others grab her arms to lead her away to ‘safety'. Definitely too drunk – you learn after a while it's best to ‘let it all go' before you get to quite that stage ! I grab my towel and head back to the car to get some dry clothes.
Lose the shoes and shirt, grab a towel, cross the road and secure the car key (I've learned that lesson by now). I'm not going to be alone here tonight ! Nothing changes and there are couples making out at suitable intervals on the beach. The two on the pier have decided they may as well have sex. OK – well it's free love and all that, but at least I got a room .. Guess dunes are in short supply when you haven't any transport.
Head in the other direction and two young lads in t-shirts and trainers are stood shoulder to shoulder with their shorts round their ankles facing the street, whilst a pissed teenage girl kneels in front of them trying to keep them both happy - one after the other. My word, darling - whatever would your mother think? Guys, couldn't you find one each or is it more reassuring doing everything together ? I keep my thoughts to myself as ever.
It's everyone's beach and I dump my towel at the water's edge and wade in. The water's shallow but super-warm tonight and I take a proper swim. As I head back towards shore a gang of five lashed young hens are done up to the nines and checking my towel to see if I've left any shorts on the beach. They'd make a great trophy, I'm sure. Been there already, my sweets when you were babies in your mothers' arms – and I keep them close at hand now in this particular venue. One shouts over that she want to come in with me. I shout back an acceptance having no intention of taking advantage.
She starts trying in vain to free herself from a high heel. It's truly comic and I start laughing. She sinks in to the sand and careers backwards into the arms of a mate. Two others grab her arms to lead her away to ‘safety'. Definitely too drunk – you learn after a while it's best to ‘let it all go' before you get to quite that stage ! I grab my towel and head back to the car to get some dry clothes.
kimajy
Well-Known Member
One last dance ?
Know what to expect from San An tonight. I'm not going to bed so there's now really only one thing for it. I take a walk over to Hush. Aargh ! there's some guest DJ on playing quasi-garage urban fusion music and it's too much for me to handle. Spill straight out again and decide to check out some of the other bars in the West End. I may have missed a diamond in the rough ?
Akwa, V Vodka, Play 2 … not a decent sound to be heard anywhere. The touts at The Sin are completely lashed and try to rope me inside, but I've had more than they can ever offer me already tonight. They slur out that I “look Gay†in a last desperate attempt to induce me to prove something and spend money inside. I'm unrattled but all too soon arrive back full-circle at Temptation. Can it really all have come to this ? I pop my head round the door and spot the crazy stripper from Moscow I ended up taking to breakfast not many moons ago after far too many RB&Vs. Definitely not going there again.
In my desperation, I forget the obvious solution is to go to Viva, and I give Hush another go. The residents are back on, the vibe is upbeat and my sense of relief is unmeasurable.
This place has ended up being a sanctuary this trip. By my own usual standards, I reckon I've done pretty poorly on the partying front all in all, with more misses than hits. But that's the way it goes sometimes, especially when you're doing a lot else besides. It hasn't been for the want of trying hard.
I've also failed to take full advantage of Ibiza's fabulous restaurants due to shutting off my appetite completely with too much Red Bull and excessive smoking. Never mind, I've had many wonderful meals out here before. The best ones are with groups of friends or dates anyway and I've had the time of my life all in all – yet again. Best of all, there's over 2 hours left before closing.
I drink up a last RB&V and assume my usual position by the steps. The music builds. Two guys on the other side of the steps are grooving as hard as I am. A group of girls on the main floor in front of us are rocking it too. There's a great vibe in our little area. The signature green laser washes over our smiling faces as the fog machine fills the room and the girls with balloons try on in vain to get takers for their Jaegermeister shots on the dancefloor. We're all too happy as we are !
I leave just before 6 to walk back through the carnage on the streets, firmly decline the pestering offers of blowjobs from Nigerian prostitutes and refuel the car on the way home. It's really in a right old state, covered in wet clothes, CDs, rubbish, papers, sand and fag ash - and I've somehow got to fit those endless cartons of cigs into the case too. I know from experience there's no time left to get distracted and go directly to Cala de Bou.
Know what to expect from San An tonight. I'm not going to bed so there's now really only one thing for it. I take a walk over to Hush. Aargh ! there's some guest DJ on playing quasi-garage urban fusion music and it's too much for me to handle. Spill straight out again and decide to check out some of the other bars in the West End. I may have missed a diamond in the rough ?
Akwa, V Vodka, Play 2 … not a decent sound to be heard anywhere. The touts at The Sin are completely lashed and try to rope me inside, but I've had more than they can ever offer me already tonight. They slur out that I “look Gay†in a last desperate attempt to induce me to prove something and spend money inside. I'm unrattled but all too soon arrive back full-circle at Temptation. Can it really all have come to this ? I pop my head round the door and spot the crazy stripper from Moscow I ended up taking to breakfast not many moons ago after far too many RB&Vs. Definitely not going there again.
In my desperation, I forget the obvious solution is to go to Viva, and I give Hush another go. The residents are back on, the vibe is upbeat and my sense of relief is unmeasurable.
This place has ended up being a sanctuary this trip. By my own usual standards, I reckon I've done pretty poorly on the partying front all in all, with more misses than hits. But that's the way it goes sometimes, especially when you're doing a lot else besides. It hasn't been for the want of trying hard.
I've also failed to take full advantage of Ibiza's fabulous restaurants due to shutting off my appetite completely with too much Red Bull and excessive smoking. Never mind, I've had many wonderful meals out here before. The best ones are with groups of friends or dates anyway and I've had the time of my life all in all – yet again. Best of all, there's over 2 hours left before closing.
I drink up a last RB&V and assume my usual position by the steps. The music builds. Two guys on the other side of the steps are grooving as hard as I am. A group of girls on the main floor in front of us are rocking it too. There's a great vibe in our little area. The signature green laser washes over our smiling faces as the fog machine fills the room and the girls with balloons try on in vain to get takers for their Jaegermeister shots on the dancefloor. We're all too happy as we are !
I leave just before 6 to walk back through the carnage on the streets, firmly decline the pestering offers of blowjobs from Nigerian prostitutes and refuel the car on the way home. It's really in a right old state, covered in wet clothes, CDs, rubbish, papers, sand and fag ash - and I've somehow got to fit those endless cartons of cigs into the case too. I know from experience there's no time left to get distracted and go directly to Cala de Bou.
kimajy
Well-Known Member
Hasta pronto Ibiza !
Sunday 19th June
My ‘day' starts early on arrival back at Sunset Point. The marathon to clear out the room and sort out my things seems harder than usual. Everyone is still in bed and I take a proper shower, wash my hair and hunt down a pair of cargos with pockets to house my travelling paraphernalia for the journey home. If I score an exit seat on the flight, it'll be cold and draughty so I pack a warm sweat in my rucksack. I'm fatigued and I know it's more sensible to finally put my suntan away.
My bottle of Rioja from the journey out is unopened and there's no sign of my ticket from Alain. I check my e-mails – he's sent me a message last night to say it's printed and I can pick it up from the bar that evening. Oops ! There's still no sign of anyone so I come clean and send a reply to say thanks .. ‘but I never made it back last night'.. Leave key and the bottle of Rioja in the room, and invite Alain to share it with his wife. I need to get going and will have to settle up for the overstay after I get back home.
My ‘3rd car' is given a clean bill of health by Avis but the queue at check-in is unbelievably long and desperately slow. They must all have been there waiting for hours ! It's wall to wall parents with toddlers and I hope they have space for all those push-chairs. I'm feeling really tired now and ready to get home. Need a break from all this good life.
I open the electronic copy of my ticket on my laptop screen and put it on the check-in counter. Sorry – I can't check in without a paper ticket and my name's not on the list. The screen confirmation seals the booking acknowledgement, though.
The Thomas Cook rep is summoned and I get an earful about needing paper tickets and every airline being the same on this. I politely tell him Thomson aren't and he backpedals quickly, claiming they're different and a ticketless airline. Well then ?! How are people like me on a last-minute booking to fill their plane up supposed to print out tickets when they're out on a 3 ½ day Ibiza marathon ? The check-in girl looks understandingly at me. I'm fleeced for 15Euros as he scribbles out a bit of paper to link to my booking number and relieves me of my cash.
The check-in girl quietly allocates me a free extra-legroom window exit seat. She clearly ‘knows' … Thanks, sweet. I have a mandatory free meal included this time but I pass out like a baby before we've even left the ground, just before 11am. It's been 23 hours since I last saw a bed and I've got to get back to Thames Valley at the other end.
Asleep on the plane, I dream about the last three days and feel as if I've been away for a month. A friend once asked me how I could possibly think of going to Ibiza on my own and what was I intending to do. I answered him simply "Live".
My car is where I left it in Birmingham and I brace for the overstay penalty. Press the help buzzer on the exit barrier and give my prepaid parking reference number. The barrier goes up without comment. I don't hang about. My Blue Marlin bootleg still plays and a double-espresso shot at the nearest motorway service station sees me home again. The sun makes a fleeting appearance from a break in the clouds. I feel really well and look around – nope, didn't miss much.
Hasta pronto, Ibiza !
Sunday 19th June
My ‘day' starts early on arrival back at Sunset Point. The marathon to clear out the room and sort out my things seems harder than usual. Everyone is still in bed and I take a proper shower, wash my hair and hunt down a pair of cargos with pockets to house my travelling paraphernalia for the journey home. If I score an exit seat on the flight, it'll be cold and draughty so I pack a warm sweat in my rucksack. I'm fatigued and I know it's more sensible to finally put my suntan away.
My bottle of Rioja from the journey out is unopened and there's no sign of my ticket from Alain. I check my e-mails – he's sent me a message last night to say it's printed and I can pick it up from the bar that evening. Oops ! There's still no sign of anyone so I come clean and send a reply to say thanks .. ‘but I never made it back last night'.. Leave key and the bottle of Rioja in the room, and invite Alain to share it with his wife. I need to get going and will have to settle up for the overstay after I get back home.
My ‘3rd car' is given a clean bill of health by Avis but the queue at check-in is unbelievably long and desperately slow. They must all have been there waiting for hours ! It's wall to wall parents with toddlers and I hope they have space for all those push-chairs. I'm feeling really tired now and ready to get home. Need a break from all this good life.
I open the electronic copy of my ticket on my laptop screen and put it on the check-in counter. Sorry – I can't check in without a paper ticket and my name's not on the list. The screen confirmation seals the booking acknowledgement, though.
The Thomas Cook rep is summoned and I get an earful about needing paper tickets and every airline being the same on this. I politely tell him Thomson aren't and he backpedals quickly, claiming they're different and a ticketless airline. Well then ?! How are people like me on a last-minute booking to fill their plane up supposed to print out tickets when they're out on a 3 ½ day Ibiza marathon ? The check-in girl looks understandingly at me. I'm fleeced for 15Euros as he scribbles out a bit of paper to link to my booking number and relieves me of my cash.
The check-in girl quietly allocates me a free extra-legroom window exit seat. She clearly ‘knows' … Thanks, sweet. I have a mandatory free meal included this time but I pass out like a baby before we've even left the ground, just before 11am. It's been 23 hours since I last saw a bed and I've got to get back to Thames Valley at the other end.
Asleep on the plane, I dream about the last three days and feel as if I've been away for a month. A friend once asked me how I could possibly think of going to Ibiza on my own and what was I intending to do. I answered him simply "Live".
My car is where I left it in Birmingham and I brace for the overstay penalty. Press the help buzzer on the exit barrier and give my prepaid parking reference number. The barrier goes up without comment. I don't hang about. My Blue Marlin bootleg still plays and a double-espresso shot at the nearest motorway service station sees me home again. The sun makes a fleeting appearance from a break in the clouds. I feel really well and look around – nope, didn't miss much.
Hasta pronto, Ibiza !
kimajy
Well-Known Member
I know, mate and thanks for highlighting that. Point taken and I sure ain't promoting it here. Promised an open window, though, and have been good to my word on same ... don't intend to make a habit of it !
craig72
No longer active
I know i only read a bit when i posted that,got to read the rest only now, sound like a good time flying solo was had..Thats the way id like to go if i was going on my own..get f*cked up,hookers ect..you should have made a video like that prodigy one.. smack my bitch up..
There's something inexplicably powerful that exists alongside the wonderful bars, clubs, beaches and music that holidays in Ibiza are made of. Tuning in to it, for a short time, is a rare and privileged experience which happens to me every now and again. Never when I'm consciously looking for it or trying to orchestrate it, always when I'm completely sober and usually when I'm alone. When it really hits, the feeling never stays around particularly long but is intense, benign and intoxicating. It's one reason I never think twice about coming to the island by myself, and I know never to try to control or seek this experience out. If conditions are right, it finds me.
.[/QUOTE]
8)8)
Apart from the annoying Mary Whitehouse contributions, it was an enjoyable read and well written.
Thanks for taking the time to write it.
.[/QUOTE]
8)8)
Apart from the annoying Mary Whitehouse contributions, it was an enjoyable read and well written.
Thanks for taking the time to write it.
I dont condone any form of Law Breaking but I feel its up to each individual how they live their life. Its not for me to judge anybody's behavior..... thats the job of the Police. As consenting adults each person has to live with the consequences of their own actions.
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puppylover
Active Member
I really enjoyed reading that - you certainly know how to fill your 24hrs mate 
Glad to see you have decided drink driving is not an option over in Ibiza for the next trip...
Glad to see you have decided drink driving is not an option over in Ibiza for the next trip...