Give Me One Night on Ibiza

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One night on Ibiza is not enough. I could have stayed the whole summer. Let me rephrase that: I could have stayed the whole summer if the summer were a hundred days of low-season. I'm not sure I'd be able to deal with the summer crowds. I like visiting a place before the season starts.

What about you? Are you a low-season or high-season person? Can you walk along a crowded promenade with hundreds of other tourists or does this make you crazy?

Low Season

The first thing you need to know about Ibiza is that it's tiny. Not tiny like an atom or my admiration for Lionel Richie, but in comparison to, say, Mallorca or Crete, Ibiza, is iddy-biddy. Over the weekend we explored a great deal of the island--from south to north, east to west--and I never once felt as if I'd driven for hours to get somewhere. Again, this might have a lot to do with the low number of tourists on the roads.

A pint of cider is bigger than the north of Ibiza.

Ibiza, one of the Balearic Islands in the Mediterranean Sea, is known as a party mecca. The world-famous discos on the island attract big acts, but they didn't really attract us. Are my dancing days over? No, not really. I dance. I dance in the car. I also dance in my head. I CAN dance. Some people can't, you know. I, on the other foot, have a well-developed groovethang. So why didn't I head to the disco? After all, in the words of Kylie Minogue, my disco needs me? Right?

Well, probably not. I think the discos on Ibiza need 19-year-olds who will look back and cringe at their pictures from Ibiza in 2012. What's with the women's fashion of embarrassingly short shorts? Isn't the concept of clothes to cover our parts? I walked behind a pretty "blonde" post-teen for a few minutes on the porn-menade of Sant Antoni, trying to figure out the appeal of shorts that don't cover the butt. Why wear shorts at all? Why not just walk around in a thong? I have a thong. Somewhere. In my past.

A pleasant surprise . . .

The second thing you need to know about Ibiza--if you are a Celiac--is that packaging in Spain tells you if the product has gluten in it. All you need to look for is "Sin gluten". Very easy. Due to the masses of Brits who invade the island every year, most bars serve cider. Make sure you ask for no ice. And there's always some variation of a Greek salad on the menu. It's Celiac Awareness Month, by the way. Read more posts on traveling gluten-free HERE.

How many things do you really want to know about Ibiza? Sadly, most of the island has been turned into a dance floor throbbing with fit, tattooed guys and girls clad in obligatory strips of clothing. Is this sad? I don't know. I just felt under-tattooed and overdressed. I did not, however, feel old and fat.

Eivissa, the old town

And someone scratched our car, which I discovered afterwards was nothing special. All the cars are scratched on Ibiza. It's a party island. For four days, the car cost us 40 euros, which was well worth the money. The island has hundreds of little beaches tucked away, down dirt roads where you can relax and enjoy the party in your head.

This post is my 200th post at I Must Be Off! which means I'm dancing in celebration--because I can dance. Really.

If you haven't already swung by the Aotearoa Affair Blog Carnival, which I hosted last week, HAVE A LOOK.

in a pleasant place.

I must be off,
Christopher

ONE YEAR AGO AT I MUST BE OFF!


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Christopher Allen writes fiction, creative non-fiction and of course this here blog. His work has appeared in numerous places both online and in print. Read more about him HERE.