It is not ideal the night before you go on holiday to arrive home at three thirty am, without any shoes on your feet, plastic flowers around your neck, and a red sparkly hat on your head. I would even go as far as to say, it is anything but ideal.
However, there are times when ideal situations fly out of the window and are replaced by inappropriate, and often bizarre, situations.
I think the pre-holiday excitement must have gone to my head. Or maybe it was the fact my printers treated my new boss and I to tapas and wine in a charming, authentic, Spanish restaurant. And then I joined my friend at an 80’s revival bar, to celebrate her birthday. An 80’s revival bar where you can purchase flashing microphones, plastic flowers, red sparkly hats, and over sized glasses (we bought the lot). We enjoyed ourselves immensely, whilst declaring every ten minutes, “We’re going on holiday tomorrow!”
In my defence, I was long over due a holiday with my girlfriends. Therefore, I was ridiculously excited. My last holiday with friends (apart from my 3 day trip to a Cypriot wedding) was six years ago, to the beautiful island of Mauritius. And that particular holiday was shared with boyfriends, so it wasn’t a true girly holiday. A true girly holiday must have been the year before Mauritius, I think, to the pretty Greek island of Crete.
Despite the late night (or early morning, or whatever you wish to call it) before our holiday, my friend and I arrived at the airport with plenty of time to spare, ready to meet our other two friends. I’ll be honest, we were a little tired, but what the heck we thought, we can sleep on the aeroplane. Airport shopping added to our moods, gold flip flops, gold bangles, magazines, and a jug of sangria at the airport bar. We were going to Ibiza! Cheers everyone!
Now, if anyone is contemplating visiting this Balearic Island, let me warn you – you will need plenty of money. You may need to remortgage your house or discuss a loan with your bank manager. It is very expensive. There must be the odd cheap restaurant and bar, we managed to find one in Ibiza town, but on the whole it’s very pricey.
17 euros for a red bull and vodka. 35 euros entrance fee to the worlds largest club. 30 euros for a piece of fatty lamb and grains of boiled rice. Do you see what I mean? We were shocked.
After an expensive beach party, expensive boat party, and expensive bar where we danced and spun around on a merry-go-round, we decided to supermarket shop for pasta, salad, fruit, and a bottles of cheap but-surprising–light-and-refreshing plonk. We knew we couldn’t carry on spending the amount of money we had been. (But I still managed to treat myself to a turquoise ring and white cotton dress during a cloudy day, when the beach and swimming pool seemed cold and unattractive.)
I would also like to warn you about the characters in Ibiza. There are many unusual characters walking around the quaint Ibiza town, and drinking on the luminous and loud streets of San Antonio. Drag queens, hippies, people who swear blind there are tigers in the sky, and all sorts of weird and wonderful men and women.
Ibiza is certainly an interesting place to visit. If you have a bank account brimming with cash, cash you are itching to spend, and if you are prone to seeing tigers dancing in the sky, this island could be your ultimate dream come true.
Can you see the tigers?