Travel & Hotspots

May-britt’s Ibiza Diary

Day eight of the, if I may say so myself, much deserved holiday on Ibiza and I’ve got my hands on a unique one. When I check out Instagram, I should run into someone I knew a couple of times a day, because my feed is continuously updated with friends or vague acquaintances that are within a radius of ten kilometers, yet thus far, no spontaneous bump-ins. I would even be able to walk around unwashed and unkempt but then I bet I’d suddenly bump into Doutzen Kroes.

The fact that we didn’t want to continuously be surrounded by people we knew doesn’t mean we don’t mind bumping into someone every now and then. So we decided to invite our friends C and A for lunch. One of those lunches that will undoubtedly turn into an afternoon of drinking followed by dinner. If there were an award for serial drinking without getting drunk, then we would have won that one with flying colors. It terrified me that I ended up laying off the alcohol the following day. Well, until 7 PM at least because that’s the first time we actually bumped into someone we knew and had to celebrate it.

Besides, we had all just bought dresses which was reason alone to raise a toast. Ibiza is filled with the cutest little boutiques with bags, kaftans, crochet bikinis and a bunch of things along those lines. It all makes me immensely greedy. They ooze ‘bohemian’ and ‘let it go, lay back’.

The beaded necklace with feathers has to come back with me, the high hat and that embroidered scarf does too. My daughters danced in the dressing rooms and decorated themselves with bracelets and necklaces which included absurd two hundred euro price tags. And so it was the perfect time to leave and head to the terrace where my love was having a good one on one with his gin tonic.

How many hats I had currently collected was question number one. Okay, I put the hat back. I was allowed to keep the necklace though, and the bracelets for the girls. Then the scarf. He loved it, but I could feel a ‘but’ coming up. “But”, he said (I knew it, I knew it), “the scarf is like a glass of Hierbas, the local liquor. It tastes good, but only on Ibiza.”