Day 24 - Pacha Time

The unfortunate thing about Ibiza is that to get to any of the decent beaches you pretty much need to hire a car. Since we'd decided to leave the car hiring till our last day we had to settle for soaking up the sun on San Antoni beach. The 'beach' consists of a man made strip of sand with knee deep water netted in before the marina starts behind it. The worst part though is the hoards of hungover brits lining the beach talking about how wasted they were the previous night and competing as to who got home the latest. The one positive was that the promotion girls and guys doing the laps of the beach seemed to avoid us and we deduced that this could be due to the fact that we actually had tans, setting us apart from the rest of the beach and therefore possibly making us look like we were semi local.

Eventually we'd had enough, instead opting to ferry back across to the hotel and try out the pool although not before we'd been and purchased our tickets for Pacha that night. €37 later we headed back across and spent the afternoon by the pool which turned out be quite a nice way to waste away the afternoon, floating about on lilos and listening to music from the hotel's sound system before sprucing ourselves up and hitting the vodka redbulls in preparation for our big night out.

Pacha was pretty impressive I have to say with its numerous rooms and levels of dancefloors and the standard of dress from everyone far surpassed what expected with no bikinis or shirts off. Our first stop was the Funk Room where we thought we'd get a drink before things started to warm up on the main d floor. Our one and only drink it turned out since they were a whopping €15 each. The night was an interesting and enjoyable one as we danced away to Freddie Le Grand on the decks and will.i.am on the mike till the small we hours. We'd stationed ourselves next to the VIP area which became filled with models and their entourage shortly after and this provided us with much of the entertainment for the evening as we witnessed them go downhill very quickly, starting off looking like respectful girls, soon to be making fools of themselves the more Veuve Clicquot they skulled from their endless supply of bottles. When they reached the point of grinding one another on couches Kelly and I had reached our threshold as to what we could bare to witness anymore and decided to move away from our spot in order to not have to witness their antics anymore.

Not having alcohol to fuel us through the evening meant by 4:30 or so we'd or more precisely our feet had had enough and we hobbled out to one of the hundreds of taxis waiting to take the partygoers home. Although the club was impressive in its size and layout I don't think it was as amazing night out as what you'd expect for on of the party capitals of the world!