My week in Ibiza - Days 1 and 2

Blogging about my holiday here to all you lovely people of this mostly civilised part of the Internet seems like a lovely idea. Also I'm bored. And I haven't done much on this site for a while. I'll be doing this nightly. Apologies for any grammar/spelling mistakes. My iPad is being weird. I'll scout for mistakes when I edit and add some stuff. The previous sentence was added in editing, and this one too.

Ok so I'll start from the beginning.

The decision to invest in an annual summer holiday was a tricky one this year. There were ideas for America, Scotland and now Ibiza suddenly happened. My mother, who earned around £50,000 yearly was kinda broke after spending £5,000 on a photon light wave machine that had been developing in Belgium for the last thirty years. It works, so at least it's not money wasted. The holiday this time around was meant to be a late holiday gift to my dear father, who shall turn 50 next July. (Why am I talking in this formal manner? I'll just switch now because I'll probably regret my style of writing when I wake up next morning.) So my dad paid for everything while my mum just paid for the flights.

The flight to Ibiza was scheduled at 8 AM, and to be on time my family had to be at the airport by 6, therefore I had to wake up at 4 in the morning. To avoid this, we arrived the previous night and stayed at the Premier Inn overnight. The airport was nothing special.(Gatwick Airport for those who are curious.) My brother got stopped at security possibly because he was wearing a Breaking Bad T-Shirt, because drug references, I guess? One time my friend got stopped at security because her IPhone case has a model of a gun on the back of it. The staff thought she was a threat to security, but this was in America and security is probably different there. There's nothing else to say about the airport so I'll move on.

The plane had no entertainment system/small tv thing. Luckily I had my kindle so I could continue with my re-read of War and Peace (I had skipped a lot of part 2 of book one when I first read it). Behind me and my mum sat this group of lads who were always talking about ramming their d***s up girls' butts in Ibiza. (Don't ban me admin, I censored that as best as I could.) It was so bad that my mum had to buy headphones. They did quiet down eventually, yay.

After landing in Ibiza and leaving the airport the next stop was a car rental place. And the service there was LONG. My family had to wait almost an hour outside with loads of other people until they were called up to the counter to get their car. During this time I developed period cramps (I was aware that I was menstruating at the time) and nausea. It got so bad that I had slight diarrhoea. (TMI? TMI.) And by the time the car was sorted, being alive was torture. There was agony in a lot of places. I'm glad I don't remember how it felt. I apparently (according to my brother) fell semi-unconscious for half of the trip until we arrived at the hotel complex place and he prodded me awake. I said, "Oh there you are Cameron."

Apparently my family booked a penthouse. The main room was a kitchen with a living room further back. The back wall had a screen glass door thing which opened up onto a large balcony. To the right of the kitchen area was the bedroom section. I have the room with the double bed, which I'm in as I'm typing this. My parents also have a master bedroom opposite and my brother has the bedroom with twin beds. The balcony had a dining table at one end and a corner sofa on the other. I lay in the sun on the sofa and eventually recovered. I don't know why or how the sunny sofa helped me. It just happened. The balcony had views of the sea and the nearby town. It's really beautiful at night. Upon exploring, my brother ventured up a slightly rusty white staircase onto the roof which had... A jacuzzi, a bar area, a C-shaped sofa and another dining area and a barbecue. Perfect for a TheTopTens rooftop party. We could all go clubbing and have paella and have a diving competition. My family went out for paella. My brother is taking Spanish as a GCSE so he ordered. I somehow had room for dessert even though my appetite is tiny.

Day two. Stayed up eating crisps and reading my beloved kindle. I can't remember breakfast (did I even have breakfast?) Today's plans were to go to the beach. The sand was full of cigarette butts, and I have an irrational fear of touching them with my feet, so walking in the sand barefooted (I didn't want to 'infect' my shoes) was really uncomfortable but I avoided it anyway because of perfect spraining of avoiding my irrational fear of spat-out gum on pavements and at school. Laugh at me all you want, it's perfectly understandable if you do. I paddled in the sea and saw tiny fish. I wanted to build sand fortresses (not castles, fortresses with thick walls and moats and reservoirs) but there was no bucket and spade. It's possible with hands, but the quality isn't the same without modest fortress building technology. In Florida we once made one that lasted for five days. It was a private beach belonging to the rented property so so little kids trampled it.

After the beach we had lunch back at the penthouse, and then the pool. There was this game I invented where one person jumped into the pool while the other person throws a ball, and the jumper has to catch the ball mod-air. Bonus points for style! This random Spanish kid called Daveed or something joined in and soon it became an Olympic diving competition. I got silver even though my jumps had more style. Cameron just bellyflopped. Daveed did something similar. I was doing cannonballs, twirls, and once even backwards, but that failed miserably. Soon after the fake Olympics, I swallowed pool water and eventually vomited on the poolside. While recovering no the sun loungers I engaged in a deep discussion with my mum about why vomit was depicted as green in most cases when mine has always been orange. She said because bile is green and the person is vomiting up bile or something like that, and then she said that it's not possible and the orange colour is because it's all my previously eaten food (and maybe me stomach acid too? I've heard that vomit is corrosive.) I didn't go back in the pool after that.

Back at the penthouse my brother downloaded dodgy software from his laptop to his iPad. I was playing a game on it kept lagging. We were playing Scribblenauts Remixed. I once shot a child on that game accidentally and Cameron used every opportunity he had to plant nukes and explode people. I once solved a level by summoning God to destroy the dinosaurs, no joke. That game is so weird. My mum brought takeaway which was meat, cheesy potato wedges and vegetables. I mistook this vegetable thing for pork and when my mum commented on me picking a vegetable, I thought she was talking about the tiny piece of broccoli I had somehow speared up with my fork. I deceived myself so badly. When I expected lucious tender pork, I got some alien-tasting spongy rectangle. Not as bad as beetroot, partridge, raw liver, swede or radish though. I've had worse. Such as the previously mentioned 'foods'.

So as my family watch a movie full of profanity, I lie here on my bed typing this. And you made it this far? Cool. Enjoy the rest of your August! I'll be back tomorrow.