I'm going to blog about Ibiza while I have the time and inclination. Strike while the iron is hot! (Or lukewarm, I guess, seeing as I got back from Ibiza almost three weeks ago.) Go, go, go!
OK. Quickly now, keep up, come on...
Tuesday was Carl Cox at Space which was my favourite night last year. Carl Cox has had a residency at Space for eleven years now, he must really love that club. Or maybe they just keep upping his fee...
(I was asking everyone whether they thought Resident DJs played the same set every week, all summer, or if they do a different set every week. Most people thought that the DJ would have a list of tracks they always played, but that they would mix in different stuff each week, depending on their mood and the vibe of the crowd.)
Iit was supposed to be house music/tech-house, but all I remember is thinking it was really techno-heavy, I felt quite dark and didn't really speak to anyone all night, I just bopped about in my own little world, composing mad emails to people in my head and thinking about what it would be like to live in Paris forever. I wish when I went clubbing I could switch my brain off, because normally I can't remember any of the music but I can remember the stupid conversations I had with myself inside my brain, or things that I thought happened between other people that it will turn out, the next day, didn't happen at all...
Sometimes in clubs things feel a bit edgy and dark and you see danger
Someone wants to rob me, the bouncer wants to throw me
out, that creepy guy is trying to dance behind my friend and she
hasn't noticed, I have to tell her, I have to get her away...
In fact, nothing bad is happening and I've made everything up.
For example, at one point on Tuesday, the crowd parted and a girl ran through the middle of the dance floor. It was bizarre, because the dance floor was packed and there was barely room to breathe, let alone make a path for somebody to run through. I decided that the girl was chasing after a robber who had snatched her bag. Then I remembered that there had been another figure running ahead of her, so I deduced that this was the guy who had robbed her...
It was only when I was discussing the event with Hollie afterwards that I realised my reality was different to everybody else's. Hollie said that everyone had moved out of the way because the girl was going to throw up.
"Look, there's a bit of sick on the floor where she ran past." she said.
It's so weird- I can't be sure anymore of what is really happening, and what is my (wrong) perception of what's happening... Maybe I'm not even an au pair. Maybe I've been assigned to a French family so that they can keep an eye on me, letting me look after their kids in a way so I feel like I have some purpose in life. Maybe they're not even French and I'm not even in France! Maybe when I look at the Eiffel Tower, I'm really looking at the Blackpool Tower. It would explain why I can't speak French.
I think my mind just exploded.
What... was I talking about before all that started?
Ibiza! Carl Cox! One two three... and you're back in the room.
We stayed on the terrace for agesss, which was Tim Green and Yousef, before we decided it was time to brave the crowds of the main room for Carl Cox, Just Be (Bushwacka)- click here to listen to his set from that night- and Umek. Now shut the door because I'm going to tell you something in private...
I have no idea who Umek is.
Actually, all holiday I was a bit on edge, scared that someone would ask me what my favourite track was by a DJ I had never heard of and I would panic and say: "It's a toss-up between 'Jolene' and '9 to 5'."
But I think I got away with it...
Anyway, Tuesday was good, then on Wednesday it was ZOO PROJECT. (Technically it's called 'Channel Zoo' on a Wednesday, but it's the same thing if you ask me... Are you asking me? Forget it then.)
"Did you try and go as a tropical bird?"
I'm never going to Ibiza again. It's too hard to think of outfits. Every year I get home, look at the photos that people upload onto Facebook and wonder why I look like I'm on a different holiday to everyone else.
But nothing can spoil my enjoyment of Zoo Project, not even looking like a peaky tropical bird. We got there as soon as it opened at six and secured ourselves a huge table under a canopy of camouflage netting. There is even a photo of us on the Zoo website, although I don't why, because we don't look like we are having a particularly good time:
Everyone was knackered from the night before, but that is why Zoo Project is so good- you can chill out and get something to eat from the BBQ while you ease yourself back into a Party Mood, then you can get a pitcher of cocktail and see how you feel, then before you know it you are dancing about in the seal pit, having the time of your life and trying not to rub against the girl next to you whose entire body is painted in glittery zebra stripes.
The cocktails are very alcoholic. For Ibiza, they're not particularly expensive either (it's twenty euros for a pitcher I think) and soon every single one of us was really, really drunk- Ricky was telling everyone he'd gone blind. It's funny because it's the first time I've seen the Rave Team so drunk, all at the same time.
It was the bestest night ever, I love Zoo project. We danced and danced more enthusiastically than we had all week, right until they played the last song which was, rather controversially, 'I'm Every Woman.' we loved it, of course, because we were all smashed.
Zoo Project finishes at midnight, so we decided to have a little party of our own back at the villa rather than go on to a club. We left on a high, then queued ages for a taxi, then went back to the villa for our 'pool party'. I wanted everyone to get in the pool and was convinced everyone was going to do it, but in the end I think it was only me and Sarah who got in. Not quite the Dizzee Rascal video I was imagining but it was still really fun.
Shitting Hell going to be late for my au pair job now.