It always remains a kind of exciting moment. When you swing open your hotel room door and in a split second get your first impression of your room. Is it big? Is it bright? What’s the view like? Do we have a nice shower? Sometimes you do a little dance because everything is exactly as you hope. Lil and I are doing a little dance this week. Seriously, Regina George would be proud of us. Elle Woods too. Samantha van der Plas would have a heart attack from jealousy. What about ‘on Wednesday we wear pink’, we wear pink the whole freaking vacation. If you’re going to Ibiza soon, do me a favor and sleep here. Even if it’s just for one night. To be honest, I have to say that the area around the hotel is schrecklich and drunk English people squared (so immediately grab that car and head to that nice beach), but the hotel itself is so nice. Arty farty, with a touch of Miami Vice, with rooms that bring out your inner Barbie girl. The Smeg fridge in the room, the rain shower, the lounge mattresses by the pool, breakfast bar Andy’s with the mini donuts and passion fruits at breakfast, the pink pool, the gigantic balcony with a view of the sea, that gold-colored Marshall speaker next to the bed for those goooooood Ronnie Flex songs in the evening, the special evening delivery brownies in the room, the pastel-colored blue, pink, yellow tiles everywhere… Life is plastic, it’s fantastic. Paradiso, you were the shit. Bet that I’ll still be peeing pink glitter for the next three months?