The last of Ibiza

I wrote the following during my last week of summer in late September, 2017. A tad late, you could say given that I have since left Ibiza, moved to London, the seasons have changed and the snow has fallen and melted away. But this piece has remained, compartmentalised until I was in a space to unravel and re-wrap my memories of those mad, few months. It is not until now, as I sit on another flight, bound for another part of the world that I’m finally ready to wander back and tie up those last, loose strings…

27.09.2017

It is sunset as I write this blog, sitting on our makeshift lawn, on the top of our rooftop in San Matteu, Ibiza. I look above my screen at the pale blue sky with its streaks of pastel pink that are slightly hidden behind purple clusters of cloud. A thin, white slice of crescent moon hangs, unsuspectingly in the background. How beautiful it all is. The temperature is dropping now that autumn is coming, so I slip into my woollen jumper that has been tucked away in the depths of my wardrobe all summer - a sure sign that the season is truly coming to an end.

Trippy trips to trippy trees 

I think back to the beginning. I had chosen to spend my first few weeks fully absorbing the magic of everything and completely free from the constraints of work and routine. But realistically, that life was only destined to last for so long. Early one morning, I remember sitting in this exact spot, wondering whether I’d actually last the season; I now understood how expensive life was here and was already down to my last few pennies. So I meditated and set the intention on manifesting work; within 2 days I was suddenly absorbed in a busy new routine, working 6 nights a week behind a busy, Spanish bar at Can Cires, the local restaurant down the road. While it was tough, boy was I grateful. The islands magic lifted me up and spun me around and my job grounded me and brought me back down; it was the balancing force I desperately needed.

Yesterday was my last shift, so I chucked in my uniform, collected my pay and said my goodbyes. I strolled down the road and sat on the steps of the San Matteu church with B (the other waitress who I’d grown so fond of). We sipped on cañas and puffed on porros, laughing about our last few months together. We had survived the the wrath of our feisty boss, V; laughed through all the totally bizaare moments with the quirky chef, F (proud owner of a pet parrot and a donkey) and rolled our eyes each time one of the male waiters was fired or walked out (for one reason or another). The local drunks sat through it all, perching harmlessly on their bar stools and drinking their regular brew, night after night. B had trained me up tirelessly to meet the pedantic standards of V and F and now that we had finally found an easy flow, it was time to go.

The rooftop in the A.M

Sunrise jams

Beyond the working bubble, my favourite scenes of this summer surround the connections I’ve made to the special souls that this island attracts and the natural beauty that it has to offer. I smile as I remember the mornings when we would arrive back to this villa, our feet sore from dancing after another surreal night out with a beautiful crew. We’d make ourselves cosy, grab the guitar and sit out on this rooftop, jamming to our hearts content… and then our jaws would drop at the beauty of the sun rising above the misty mountains; the landscapes and colours forming a live painting, dancing across the colour spectrum; the sky’s here, are like nowhere else in the world.

Magical connections

The pink hues of the sunrise merge in my mind with the pink rock from another of my favourite moments a few weeks ago... We had been told of a secret cave that only a few knew about (or so we liked to think). It was a 15 minute swim off the bay of a paradise beach that we had gathered on for the day. We all jumped off the pier and swam through the deep blue water, splashing around like playful dolphins. Our friend who had been there before eventually spotted the obscure, dark hole on the inside of the rock face so we paddled closer. We took turns choosing our moment to flow with the surge of the wave, narrowly ducking our heads under the jagged rock. What we discovered inside was magical. We each held our breath and dived under the wall of rock that was submerged about 1m deep in the centre of the cave. I came up for air, wiped the salty water out of my eyes and looked around me in awe at the pink rock rising out of the turquoise water; it was truly spectacular. We climbed out and lay our beautiful, half naked bodies against it, illuminated by a stream of sunlight that shone through the gap. Those were the special moments.

R and I at Es Vedra rock

The window into our room

R and I spent my last few days saying our goodbyes and trying to tick off as many adventures on our bucket list as we could. So much of this summer had consisted of amazing nights out watching DJ’s (that I still can’t name) and although it had been great fun, we now craved a bit of simplicity and calm; tapaz in a local Spanish bar, cañas on the beach, a trip to Es Vedra, perhaps? On one of my last afternoons, we were sitting in a quaint café in Ibiza town, sipping on a coffee. On a public bench nearby sat four elderly locals. They were just sitting and chatting about their day, enjoying long, silent pauses in-between their sentences. I looked at each of their worn, wrinkly faces that held such character. How content they all looked. The old faces of Ibiza, enjoying life’s simplicity; that’s what I craved.

Calm.

The sun has set now and the sky is again alight with stars. R and I have made it through the season in this beautiful, hectic, 10 person, fear and loathing-esque villa and we've come out the other end more connected than ever. Despite the amazing moments, I have seen and learned about the darkness and corruption that exists beneath this hedonistic, party island and its effect on the people it draws in. So as a final gesture, I let go of my flowery vision of Ibiza being an island filled with hippies in the hills; I'm not sure if I will return again next year. But I will take away the memories, the great lessons I have learned and an experience that will last a lifetime. A huge, heartfelt thank you to R, for introducing me to a whole new world. Now it’s time for the next adventure of life in London!

A night in India

Sunrise across the pool

We were two weeks into life in Ibiza and our next task was to host an Indian dinner for 30 people at Can Cires, the Spanish restaurant that I’d stumbled across a week ago. Life kind of flows like that here; it’s like a domino effect, opportunities randomly arise and just snowball off one another. When the owner V first suggested that we host weekly dinners at their restaurant, I half thought to myself that it would be one of those great ideas that was spoken about but never materialised; I mean the doubt was rational, I enjoyed cooking meals for friends and family but neither I nor R had ever worked in a professional kitchen let alone catered for 30 people before. I pictured all the scenarios in which it could go horribly wrong… and then I pictured tables of people sitting under candlelight, enjoying colourful plates of curry and coriander with whisps of incense adding to the atmosphere. ‘Wouldn’t it be cool if we managed to pull it off’, I thought to myself. I began creating the menu in my head and my senses went running wild as I imagined colourful combinations of amazing flavours that I’d grown up eating variations of in India and Sri Lanka. I decided on the classics; Saag Aloo: Creamy spinach curry with potatoes and chickpeas, Aloo Gobi: Dry cauliflower and potato curry and turmeric dhal. R designed the perfect menu using Photoshop, sweet and simple just as I’d imagined. The night was called ‘Una Noche en La India’ - A night in India and after the click of a few buttons, it was out there and we were locked in with 5 days to go.

C & I, the morning after

During the weekend before we hosted the dinner my great friend C from high school came to visit. It was her first time here so we chose a night out in one of Ibiza’s super clubs, Amnesia that could hold up to 9000 people. It was truly something to behold as the first rays of sun streamed through the glass ceiling of the main room; the energy peaked at 7am as the last tribal beats boomed through the speakers sending everyone into a morning trance. We arrived back at the villa that morning as the sun was shining off the pool and the rolling hills turning a vivid green in the background; it was all too beautiful to go to sleep! But by the end of the day, my temperature gage began to waver and I could feel my energy reserves depleting. Despite it being 35° outside I lay shivering in bed under a thousand layers of clothes, wishing I’d made the sensible decision to sleep. C flew back to Madrid the next morning after an amazing weekend together and my head hit the pillow. I drifted in and out of feverish sleep over the next 2 days with weird aches and pains moving their way through my body. ‘Please could I be better before our dinner… please’. I wondered how people here could handle 3 or 4 day benders with no sleep?! The thought of it both scared and amazed me at the same time…

1 day to go and it was time for the big food shop with V so I got out of bed and put on a strong face, resisting the urge to curl up in a ball and stay under the covers. We drove down to Ibiza town together and walked through the doors of the huge, industrial whole salers. I looked around, feeling dazed under the fluorescent lights and freezing cold under the harsh air conditioning. My phone that contained the list of ingredients ran out of battery the moment we’d arrived (of course) so I racked my foggy brain to think of what we needed; if I got it wrong now, we’d be screwed tomorrow. Deep breath. I walked down the first isle and my eyes landed on rows of tomatoes… here we go. I looked at the 50 different brands that lay in front of me in a state of complete indecision... this was going to be a long process. V wheeled the trolley as I shakily stacked it with supersize cans and boxes of fruit and veg. She held my arm every now and then with a concerned look on her face and I’d force a smile to reassure her that I’d be alright by tomorrow. 2 hours later, €300 down and a car full of food - we were finally done. V drove me to the pharmacy for a box of paracetemol to bring down the fever. We unloaded everything at the restaurant and I sat down, feeling the medicine kicking in as sweat droplets rapidly began forming on my brow. At last! The heat began draining from my body and I sat in the shade, drenched in sweat and gulping down my body weight in water. Suddenly, I felt cool and my mind felt clearer. One more sleep until the big day. Fingers crossed!

The final alarm rang and I felt a lightening bolt of energy shoot through my body, I missed that feeling. I hadn’t prepared anything for the day ahead so I hastily wrote down a last minute method. R and I rushed down to the restaurant on our moped, stressing out that we were later than arranged. But there was no need to rush as V sat calmly sipping on a cup of tea when we arrived and I remembered that we were on Spanish time. F was V’s husband and the head chef of the restaurant. This was the one day of the week that the restaurant closed and he was in the kitchen preparing for the following day. Much to his dismay, V asserted that he would lend a hand when it was needed and thank god, I don’t think he realised quite how much work he’d have to put in. As we entered the kitchen, I looked around feeling slightly overwhelmed. One step at a time, where would you start if you were doing this at home? I began delegating jobs for the food prep and slowly, the ball started rolling. It was a challenge attempting to communicate between a French chef, his Spanish wife, R’s English and my Spanglish but somehow, we managed to maintain a multi-lingual flow. It was 40° outside and as the curries bubbled away, I felt like I had entered a sort of spice infused delirium. All of a sudden, it was 7.30pm and in 1 hour the guests would arrive. A slight part of me wondered whether this would all go well… would people come? Would the food taste ok? What would we do if it was a total flop? I took another paracetemol and like a wave, the anxiety was followed by excitement and then exhaustion. 20 minutes left to shower and decompress.

We did it <3

We arrived at the restaurant as the tables were being laid by I, the new waitress that V had hired for her trial shift; it was all coming to life! R put on some Indian flute music and we stuck Nagchampa incense sticks in oranges that were scattered amongst the bushes around the terrace. We looked at our phones and my heart dropped as we received a stream of messages from mates that were either too skint, hung-over or far away to make it. The numbers were dropping and the heat was steadily rising in the kitchen as the rice bubbled away…

Our 6 housemates were the first to arrive and soon after, guests were streaming in and filling the tables. It was frantic in the kitchen and V was stressed out with the reality of instructing a group of amateurs, it was a guessing game after all. The table was set outside for the curries to be served in huge, clay pots buffet style. The waitress ran inside, ‘està lloviendo!’ = it was raining, shit. I chose the path of avoidance and busied myself in the kitchen - out of sight, out of mind? The umbrellas were put up and luckily, 10 minutes later the rain had subsided into a light drizzle; the night had been cleansed. F pulled the hot naan out of the oven and we began serving the curries, coriander and condiments. The night began to flow as I explained the dishes to guests in broken Spanish, floated between the tables and re-filled the clay pots with the help of R and I. 25 guests made it in the end and everyone was complimentary about the food which is all that mattered. With full bellies, they paid their bills and R and I began the big clean up. My adrenaline was wearing thin and the incense sticks had turned to ash, I could feel us moving into the calm after the storm. We’d done it. We left with a wealth of knowledge and €200 profit after all the costs, not bad for a first attempt. F decided it was too stressful to continue the weekly dinners on his one day off but they offered me a waitressing position instead; we paid our thanks and left feeling grateful for the experience and the month’s worth of leftover curry. My childhood dream of becoming a chef had been actualized and I was finally ready to let go of it, challenge complete.

Song of the Day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-riOteQkmo

Ibiza begins

Beautiful Ibiza

Life has taken a few new turns and flipped 180° in the last couple of weeks; I went from having quiet days in Devon to silent nights in Islay and then finally flew back to England where the riddim changed again... R and his mates held their first event 'Moonlight' on the rooftop of an abandoned building in the middle of Birmingham; it was pure magic that was created that night amongst friends and family. A day later, as the sparkles were fading from our eyes we boarded a plane to... Ibiza.

And now we're finally settled in our new home! After all the commotion of the last few weeks, I sat still and closed my eyes; the shrill song of crickets permeated my eardrums and the odd interlude of birdsong added a sweet contrast to the harsh, dry morning. It's August now, a notoriously hot month in Ibiza; at 10am, the sun is already beating down on the pine trees and the dust particles from the roads are steadily rising. Our stark white villa and the few others that can be seen scattered around the red, earthy landscape glow like diamonds in a baron land. The turquoise pool in front of me adds to the mirage as do the beautiful tanned boys and girls that are intermittently draped around the poolside in teeny weeny bikini bottoms with bare nipples, it is all pretty surreal; DJ's, clubs, villa's, beaches, blue blue seas, breathtaking skylines and the most stunning selection of people as though each one has been carefully selected for a beach holiday shoot. I marvel at the sights; gorgeous girls parading their clubs logo down the beach to the beats of their resident DJ's, big hunky lads in tiny shorts strutting along Bora Bora beach with their guns blazing, eyes bulging and faces full of glitter; stray rastas blissed out with grins on their faces and celebrity couples sipping on cocktails at 'Cafe del Mar'.

Happy happy days

But aside from the flash and the grime of the party scene, I'm also discovering another side to Ibiza life. One evening, soon after I'd arrived a few of us lay on the rooftop watching the milky way and the vast expanse of stars in the night sky; when all the lights are off in the middle of the country side the view of the sky is so crystal clear. The wise words of Alan Watts dubbed over a spacey backing track sounded through the speakers; the perfect soundtrack as we all lay, humbled by the grandiosity of the universe that engulfed us. With each shooting star I saw, I repeated the affirmation that I'd been meditating on; I trust that I will find a routine that is creative, fun and fulfulling. I went to sleep that night with stars in my eyes.

N's birthday breakfast

The next day I decided to join my housemate L on a run. I wanted to get out of the villa, shake off the session and attempt to understand the geography of our surroundings. 10 of us share this beautiful villa that is situated in a remote spot between two lovely towns, Santa Gertrudis and Sant Matteu in North Ibiza. There is not a lot when it comes to surrounding infrastructure besides a few other villas that only hold aesthetic value. We tied our laces and started off, leaving a trail of dust behind us. We ran along the rows of pine trees that offered some much needed shade from the searing heat of the midday sun. As we curled around the windy roads we passed the idyllic little church that sits gracefully next to the other simple, rustic buildings that make up this pueblito (mini town). There were two little restaurants dotted along the side of the road and outside one in capital letters was written  'YOGA' - an unmistakable sign. I jogged through the dark, wooden door frame, red faced and out of breath to try my luck and potentially land a very convenient teaching gig. The owner listened to L and I blurt out all the Spanish we could think of in an attempt to get me a job. He listened to what we had to say, displaying no sign of amusement and then explained that they did not need any yoga teachers but perhaps they needed a waitress. He told me to return the next day to speak to his wife so I jogged on with their business card in hand, feeling hopeful that something new was on the horizon. 

A beautiful visit from J!

Ibiza famalam

The next day I went to speak to the owners wife... I'd debated going because I was feeling slightly anxious about my Spanish interview skills and had not yet been to sleep after my first all nighter at DC10. But R gave me a pep talk and after a lot of reassuring self-talk I decided to man up, change into some new clothes and walk there to build up some energy, it was only around the corner after all... I lead us down a beautiful road lined with pine trees just like the one we'd been down the other day. But after about 20 minutes we were still walking and there was no little church in sight... another 20 minutes passed and the heat began to do funny things to my brain. I sat down in the middle of the road, like a cross little girl waiting to be given an ice cream and carried the rest of the way. It was too hot to keep going and my confidence regarding my directional skills had veered off at the last bend. R sat down with me, positive as always and we talked it out until I was ready to carry on; we had to get out of the middle of the road at some point. Sweat was dripping down my face and as I stood up my dress stuck to my body, that shower I'd just had felt like it was so long ago now. The dry landscape was losing its romantic appeal as the never ending road wiggled in front of us for miles with no sign of a church. R pulled his phone out and good ol' Google Maps saved the day; I'm all about nature walks but it must be said, technology is bloody great sometimes. 1 hour after leaving the house, we'd arrived at the restaurant 'down the road'... it seemed we had gone down the wrong road to begin with and my directional skills perhaps needed a bit of fine tuning but at least we'd had a nice walk? 

Road breaks

The restaurant Can Cires was sweet; typically Spanish, quaint and rustic. As R and I waited for the owners wife, V to appear, a bright green parrot that was perched on the top of a chair looked at us with its beady red eyes incessantly repeating 'hola, hola, hola'. Bloody hell, what was I doing having a job interview after a session, I covered my head with my hands and took a deep breath. V came over to us and sat down; thankfully, she spoke English so half the pressure was off. I told her my story and she explained her vision. She wanted to bring the community together and create something different with the space but she needed someone to help create it. She showed us the beautiful, new outdoor yoga studio in the back garden with a view of the pine forests; a light breeze blew through and the cry of crickets began. We sat down on a wooden bench and began brainstorming ideas about holding yoga classes, workshops, talks... R mentioned that I loved to cook, the seed was planted and suddenly we were talking logistics of how to host an Indian themed dinner for 30 people... in one weeks time... what!? We left that restaurant 40 minutes later feeling completely baffled and overjoyed. That went better than expected, I thought. A creative opportunity to teach yoga, bring people together and hold creative events!? Yes. Manifestation: the process of giving energy to your dreams and turning them into your reality. It is a beautiful thing. 

As we walked home I felt grateful; the heat didn't matter now, the nerves had gone and the calm was setting in. We walked passed a small opening in the pine trees and I held R's hand and lead him through the gap into a clearing in the forest. The floor was covered with a bouncy layer of dried pine needles. We lay down and looked up through the circle of blue sky above our heads. I could feel the special quality of this island, it is built on crystal rock after all... I get the feeling that it has the effect of amplifying your intentions and I was learning to just be patient and let it happen. I was no longer in the rat race and things flowed at a different pace now, it was OK to slow down. The branches of the trees swayed lightly in the breeze; after being vertical on the tarmac road in the heat of the day, surrendering to gravity brought a real sense of relief. I felt like I was looking down on us lying there in the dappled sunlight, surrounded by pine needles; it was like the closing scene of a movie...

After a while, we stood up and began wondering back. Around the last bend on a stone by the side of the road sat a little, old Spanish lady, Una Abuelita. Her face was worn and full of brown wrinkles from the Spanish sun. She wore a simple, blue dress and a pair of sandals and was sat in the shade with her hands on her knees just observing life. What a beautiful scene, I thought. So simple and symbolic of local life here that functions at its own pace and pays respect to the importance of stillness and rest. It was a nice contrast to the non-stop movement of the parties, the glitz and the glamour. There is so much magic to absorb every moment here. R and I have carefully created our space of stillness within the locomotion and we are now diving head first in to the deep blue waters of this Mediterranean paradise. Over the next few days we began to discover what was beneath the surface as we engaged in our first creative pursuit, a night in India. To get there was a wavy journey to say the least but I'll save that for next time...

Song of the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=25KdkTipTJ0 

Ibiza

San Miguel

'Don’t hold expectations and you won’t be disappointed' is the philosophy that summed up LBD & I's recent trip to Ibiza. It was originally intended to be a 9-day detox after a summer of festivals but my naivety got the best of me and it too easily became a 9-day bender. It was L & I's last holiday together for a while, now that uni was over and our stint in Bristol was coming to an end. L had grown up as part of the Spanglish summer culture, so he knew Ibiza from having worked seasons there. I 'felt' like I knew it after having my ear chewed off about how amazing the people, places and parties were, but my image was tainted by thoughts of really expensive nights in big clubs that played commercial music with loads of English Lads on tour. So it took me a while to warm up to the idea of stepping into the party animals playground, but I'm so glad I did! 

We started off  in Santa Gertrudis, a sweet little bohemian town that lies directly on the middle-point of the island and is described by many as Ibiza in a microcosm. With no car (due to it costing an extortionate 500 euros for under 25's), we soon discovered the beauty and ease of hitchhiking, during which I could practise my Spanish and find out about the local hotspots around town. We'd generally get dropped off in the centre of Santa G where we'd walk passed many gorgeous boutique shops, vegan juice bars and whitewashed houses towards the dirt path ahead. After a few frustrated conversations about which prickly pear cactus was our actual landmark, we soon knew the way home like the back of our hand; passed the dry foliage and towards the faint lights of the telephone towers in the distance. 'You have reached your destination' I could hear the robotic voice of the GPS in my head as we caught sight of Y's sweet casita, decorated with pretty hand-made pots and various cacti that merged in with the surrounding desert. So while our plan had been to spend 9 days in the North, staying at my family friend's and discovering the island - we went out for one night in the South, and never really left. 

My initial concern about not having enough clothes to wear in Ibiza became not having any of our clothes or belongings for the majority of the holiday. A self-inflicted issue for sure, as we weren’t really coordinated enough to plan our trips back but we didn’t expect to fall so hard for the San-An spell. In the 7-person party palace we’d slightly taken over, lived the loveliest people (this sounds like the beginning of goldilocks and the 3 bears..) who soon became our Ibiza angels. Every day was jam-packed and nights out were balanced with chilled nights in or a heart-warming roast dinner. But the entire time, was one.long.session. Never have I packed it in so much, the constant stimulation began to feel commonplace and daily life took on a whole new set of priorities. Routine was no longer based around mealtimes – breakfast was eaten at dinnertime and bedtime would occasionally happen in the early hours of the morning, it had all gone topsy turvy.

People went out 7 nights a week to different parties followed by the after party and then back to the party again. It didn’t stop and everyone was always on it. In the brief moments when L and I did pull ourselves out of the bubble with our thumbs stuck out on the side of a highway, I’d glimpse into reality and plan to go to a vegan café, teach yoga at open-space and send off my resumes. But the plan developed into nothing more than a hopeful suggestion and within an hour, we’d be walking back down the dirt road, passed the prickly pear cactuses and through the pine trees, fiending for San-An. 

9 days flew by, friends became family and in the last few hours I was looking at flights to extend my stay. I understood why people did seasons there, but wondered if I’d ever survive one… Despite the whirlwind it had been, we’d still managed to tick off a lot of boxes. We'd seen the elusive Ibiza dinosaur (the famous, white bearded man that everyone seems to know), swum in beautiful seas by day and night, boogied to Nightmares on Wax, swirled around at Acid Sundays and managed a bit of a hot, sweaty after party. L and I had found our adventure and I'd slightly fallen in love with Ibiza – with no expectations, there was no disappointment. Despite having had no sleep, LBD and I surprisingly caught our flights back to Bristol, running aimlessly through the airport with minutes to spare. 

When we got onto the aeroplane I looked around and felt the exhaustion and lack of conversation in the cabin, the energy was definitely different from when we'd arrived.  I closed my eyes when we sat down, uninterested in any social interaction that presented itself; those few hours would be the only bit of rest I'd get until my next flight, 12 hours later from London – Morocco… If only I’d worked out my geography and avoided the massively unnecessary detour but hey, you live and learn. So we flew away from that beautiful party island with its amazing beats and beautiful, tanned girls that look like they're part of some sort of Victoria's Secret convention. With few brain cells but throbbing hearts I let exhaustion consume me, next stop: Morocco.

One of the many moments (just listen to the lyrics): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YsgP8LkEopM