No Regrets!

Woke up to accusations from both Matt and Dave that I’d been snoring like a chainsaw. The boys were a little salty about it, but I reiterated my longstanding policy: wake me up. That gives them the sleep they need and saves my throat the next morning. In any case, top priority was heading back to the pharmacy for some earplugs.

Despite the snoring drama, Dave announced that he was finally over the hump and feeling better! And a light schedule this morning meant this was our first chance to enjoy the hotel breakfast. An exquisite buffet-style spread. I stuffed my face.

We walked over to Dalt Vila, the fortified old town dominating the skyline of Ibiza Town. Passing through the massive gate, the walls opened up to a bustling promenade of shops and restaurants. We wandered around, and as Dave said, not all who wander are lost.

Despite the modern restaurants, shops, hotels, and offices tucked inside, Dalt Vila still retains the layout and feel of a medieval city.

As we made our way upward, Matt had plenty to say about how none of the steps had the proper width and were clear code violations. He has strong feelings about steps, it turns out.

Our tour of Dalt Vila continued. As we headed toward the more historical sections, I played tour leader, stopping frequently to share all the facts. Like a lot of things in this part of the world, Dalt Vila was built in stages, first by the Muslims and later expanded by the Christians. It was attacked many times, but once the huge Renaissance walls were completed in the 16th century, the fortress was never successfully stormed again.

An interesting pattern is emerging with the three of us. When we visit a place, Matt wants to know how it was built, Dave wants to know how high it is, and I want to know all the historical facts.

It was halfway up the ramp to the top that Dave started to stagger and make that sound somewhere between a wheeze and a groan. When he stopped and assumed the standing fetal position, I knew he was done. After parking Dave in the shade, Matt and I continued upward, motivated by the morning workout. We made it to the Cathedral of Santa Maria de las Nieves at the top, popped in for a quick look, and then headed back down for some refreshment. Matt, disappointed with the limited selection of beers in Spain, had become quite fond of Cava sangria (sparkling white sangria), and that was now his drink of choice for the trip.

Then back to the hotel, where Dave was shocked to receive a 450€ bill for the laundry he’d left with the hotel. For socks, underwear, and a few shirts, that’s completely nuts far exceeding the cost of buying these clothes new.

I headed down to the hotel pool and hot tub (more like a warm tub) to chill for the rest of the afternoon and prepare for our big night out.

Dinner was at Sushi Omakase by Walt, which Dave promised would be the best sushi experience we’d find in Ibiza. Finding the place was a trick, as it prides itself on being hidden and lacking any real signage.

Walking in, it felt like I was back in Japan with Dave again. As we waited, it didn’t take long for Samurai Dave and Samurai Jeff to make an appearance. This was Matt’s first real exposure to these characters, and I’m not sure he was prepared. With other customers sitting right next to us, Dave and I fired it up so much that Matt was embarrassed. It was interesting to see Matt, who’s very capable of embarrassing us without hesitation, so embarrassed by me and Dave.

I expected the omakase experience to be exceptional, and it truly was, with Matt claiming it was the best sushi he’d ever had. Originally from Venezuela, Walt takes his craft seriously but was friendly as he served the food, even entertaining some of Dave’s stories about Japan.

And then it was time for our first big club night at Pacha, one of the trip highlights I’d really been looking forward to.

To get us in the mood, I blasted Purple Disco Machine as we got ready. It’s not hardcore EDM stuff, more nu-disco and electro-funk, definitely more my speed.

We walked across the street for entry at 11:30pm, with the show scheduled to last until 6am.

I absolutely loved the layout of the place, with a medium-sized dance floor and corridors leading to smaller bars, quieter areas, and outdoor patios. Very cool to wander around and experience all the different vibes. And the music was fantastic, bumping along gently while the club was still mostly empty but building in intensity as the crowd grew. I liked the mix much better than what I’ve been listening to on my Spotify playlist for the last several months. The sound in Pacha was loud but amazingly rich and clear, making it surprisingly easy to talk to the person next to you despite the volume. I’m not sure the other guys felt it the way I did, but the energy of the place was fantastic.

Alas, what was supposed to be a night of partying until the wee hours of the morning was not to be. After barely two hours, Dave and Matt announced they were tired, the smoke was bothering them, and they were ready to go. Begrudgingly, I left with them. I was disappointed. Our first opportunity in Ibiza to truly let loose, at a place I was really enjoying, and I felt like it had been cut short.

At 5:45am, with all of us fast asleep, we heard knocking on our door. It went on for five minutes. I knew it was Tony, who had separated from us at Pacha to do his own thing. Dave got up to answer the door and found Tony standing there, out of his mind and still ready to party. Dave sent him on his way with some choice language that was loud but amazingly rich and clear.

I woke up freezing my ass off, learning that Matt had dialed the thermostat way down the night before. On top of that, my right nostril seemed to have caught whatever Dave had and was blocked up. My left nostril was now tasked with doing double duty to supply my body with the oxygen it needed. Then a leisurely breakfast downstairs and a long talk about Pacha, Tony, and thermostat control.

Our afternoon activity was lunch and drinks at Blue Marlin, a fancy beach club tucked away on the western side of the island. We’d barely taken our seats when the couple at the table next to us fired up their cigarettes, sending both Matt and Dave into a tizzy. We relocated to another table, where a nearby family promptly lit up as well. Fortunately, the breeze carried that smoke away from us.

Blue Marlin had a cool vibe, with gentle, loungy beats filling the air as we leisurely enjoyed our meal. The salad and wagyu burger were way overpriced but very good. And the Cava sangria went down easy.

Back to the hotel for some chill time and naps for everyone before our second big club night: the Calvin Harris Closing Party at Ushuaïa.

Ushuaïa is an outdoor venue, with a poolside stage and open-air dance floor surrounded by what look like Holiday Inn motel rooms. Calvin Harris delivered the show I expected, with smoke, lasers, and music booming big and loud. To my ears, though, the familiar tunes we all know from Calvin Harris weren’t mixed uniquely enough to make them interesting.

As old people not on heavy drugs, we stayed in the back, where there was room to spread out a bit. We enjoyed a few overpriced drinks (two drinks and a water for 80€), made friends with a crew from England, and, to Matt and Dave’s credit, stayed until the end. We were out by 11pm.

Back to the hotel, we found some drunk pizza and called it a night. Matt’s knee was hurting, so he vetoed heading out again and making it another late night.

Woke up this morning to a symphony of farts. We’re done with Ibiza, and Tony is heading home. And then there were three.

This afternoon, Dave, Matt, and I off to Mallorca.