I Left My Heart in Ibiza

The Gallery at Sketch, the afternoon tea at the Goring Hotel, touring Westminster Abbey and getting lost in Harrods department store; who else wouldn’t want to go to London? While Judi, Cheyenne and I daydreamed about London, Hannah our little jet-setter booked our hotel, flight and made reservations for us.

I never expected to go to London, well I did, but not this trip or this year. Maybe it was Britain’s famous red telephone booths or Hannah’s food cravings for juicy grilled chicken at “Nando’s” from a South African-Portuguese chain; either way we anticipated this epic weekend getaway from our study abroad program. I even looked forward to replicate The Beetles 1969 album cover, Abbey Road.

However, after the recent terrorist attacks at London Bridge and the Borough Market, the trip was canceled. Our hearts were torn and there was nothing we could do, other than pray for the victims and strategize for plan B. With a couple days remaining we decided to change our plans and book our flights to Ibiza, Spain.

Judi, also known as ‘Momma Judi’, for her motherly caring personality couldn’t make it, so it was just Hannah, Cheyenne and I.

Ibiza, what comes to mind other than Mike Posner’s epic song, “I Took A Pill In Ibiza?” Maybe nonstop partying at raves and clubs then transforming into the Jersey Shore’s Snooki after frying under the sun rays.

Once we arrived at Hotel Torre del Mar with an amazing view from our balcony, there was no party scene. The hotel was filled with British families, Norwegian couples and romantic songs from the 90’s playing endlessly. Was this Ibiza? Or did we book the wrong hotel? Either way, it was slightly bougie, modern and satisfying when the hotel waiter brought us one of the best Mediterranean paellas I’d ever had.

Later that night we switched outfits simultaneously, highlighted our cheekbones and took numerous selfies before we called a taxi and headed to one of the hottest clubs in the Island, Amnesia.

We stepped into the club and walked over to the bar where I ordered two cranberry vodkas.

“Okay, that will be 48 Euros,” said the cute Spanish girl with turquoise eyes and perfectly boxed braided hair.

“Um, 48 Euros?,” I replied back.

I was in shock. I felt jipped, and it was not top shelf. But then again, we were in Ibiza. With local famed DJ’s such as Matador, Richy Ahmed, Toni Varga, Bastian Bux, Mario Biani and others I never heard of, sadly enough they all sounded the same, but still enjoyed ourselves. Dancing like J.Lo, or thinking I did from her “Waiting for Tonight” music video, we were in the zone. Cheyenne, Hannah and I observed the scene and an hour later the green, red and yellow stage lighting effects gleamed off our shiny, highlighted, sweaty faces.

Cheyenne was the hottie of the night and Prince Charming came to the rescue when he bought Cheyenne a 9 Euro bottle of water, which we all were yearning to have. As well as a vodka lemonade and watched Cheyenne cautiously, hoping she would not get roofied.

All of a sudden, a 40-year creepy man tried to dance with Hannah, Cheyenne and I. We tried to play it cool and push him away. But he got too close and put his arm around us once again, aggressively.

We ran away, decided to leave the spot we had posted up at for the better of a half of an hour. But then I saw a tall, blue-eyed, Italian man.

I could not stop staring. He was six foot and blonde. I was surprised to see his mesmerizing enchanting blue eyes in such a foggy and dark scenery.

I went up to him,- yes, I did, but before I could say anything, he said, “You are very beautiful.”

I blushed. I was smitten. We could not stop smiling at each other. I felt like Carrie Bradshaw. With our broken language, we decided to speak Spanish, then English, then back to Spanish.

At some point, we parted so that I could return to Cheyenne and Hannah. I looked around and saw people of all ages and different races, just like Los Angeles: a huge crowd behind the DJ booth, sexy go-go dancers moving their voluptuous curves to the beat of the music, and hot, young men too self-absorbed to go up to a girl and ask her for a dance.

“I’m going to say goodbye to my novio,” I told the girls. I went back to the blue-eyed Italian, just one last time and asked for his name.

“Fabrizio,” he said. Fabrizio? I loved it. I couldn’t stop blushing and saw in the corner of my eyes that Cheyenne and Hannah were waiting for me. I sadly said goodbye, but he didn’t want to let me go and I didn’t want to leave either.

However, once I said my goodbye, he pulled me in for a kiss. He had the softest lips. It was pure passion, the kiss felt so right, but I had to go. We exchanged numbers and once I left, he left me wanting more.

And like Carrie Bradshaw, I wondered, would I ever see him again? Did he give me a fake number? Was he my soulmate?

Hannah laughed and told me he wasn’t.

The next day we went snorkeling in the Mediterranean Sea. Our snorkeling instructor was David. He was nice, spoke english well and warned us about Amnesia and it’s repetitive music.

Ooops, too late, why didn’t we meet David the day before going to Amnesia?

As we put on our yellow fins and struggled to put on our tight fitted wet suits, we jumped into the water. Bright coral and nothing but a school of silver shiny fish surrounded us. The water was a bit too cold for our liking and we were the first group to get back onto the boat.

The next day we went to the Island of Formentera. With only 22 euros we took a fairey. As we got closer to the island, waves of royal, indigo and blue turned into a turquoise pastel color. We then pedaled along the coastline in our white aluminum bicycles and felt the salty, sandy breeze in our hair. We then discovered a unique jagged rock shoreline and crystal blue water.

We slowly stepped over the sharp rocks that stabbed the bottom of our feet and took pictures of the ocean as the boats sailed by.

Then all of a sudden a mini tsunami came towards us. As we seen the wave about to land on top of us, I looked at Hannah and her face froze in pure shock. I grabbed our phones, sunglasses and pushed my backpack filled with other electronics as far away from the water. Holding up our cell phones, I swayed back and fourth as my body hit the sharp edges, then right before the third wave we were successfully able to escape.

No damage was done to our belongings and I realized just how close the boat had actually gotten to us. We could of died.

Luckily Cheyenne was more inland and once we caught up to her, she said, “look at your arm!”

I look down and my arm was scratched up. After that outrageous scene, we headed to a local bar and the bartender was kind enough to put iodine on my wounds. With only an hour left before we were to depart, we headed to a beach near by to sunbathe. Followed by a pistachio gelato and headed back to the Island of Ibiza.

The next day Hannah and I went to explore old town Ibiza, With not knowing where to go, we follow five British ladies and ran upon the most adorable bohemian restaurant called S’ Escalinata. It was full of bright moraccon colors of red, yellow, orange and green. I felt I was running across, my favorite fashion blogger Natasha Oakley’s Instagram page and all the trendy spots she travels to.

We sat down for 10 minutes and enjoyed our view. From working on our J.Lo glow, scrapping my arm in the beautiful Island of Formentera and discovering a hidden gem before heading back to Valencia, Ibiza has my heart.