Final Ibiza

1. I’m in a fog. Man was not made to fly across eight time zones. I never quite caught up while I was there, and although flying east to west is so much easier on the body, yesterday all I did was sleep. They say it’s one day of recovery for every time zone. I certainly hope not!

2. The old town of Ibiza, which is the epicenter of the island, which was in walking distance from my hotel, is dominated by an old castle, a citadel, upon a promontory, called Dalt Vila. For two nights, the IMS negotiated to have shows there, to kick off the season, yup, that’s what it is, a four month season, from Memorial Day through September, when it’s warm and the locals work seven days a week, garnering enough cash to make it through the winter. Some hibernate in the off season, some travel. That’s one thing the English have down, as well as so many Europeans, they’ve got passports and they use them! My driver plans to spend the winter in South America, backpacking.

You learn so much traveling, it gives you perspective. But it’s good to be back in the good ‘ol USA where we’ve got regulations! If I hear one more right wing nut excoriate regulations I’m gonna ship them to a foreign country and show them what it’s like. Not only do buildings collapse in Asia, but in the rest of the world railings can be flimsy, there can be no lights, never mind friction strips, upon steps, and you realize you’re one false move away from being handicapped. Yup, that’s what happens when you’ve got no regulations, some people pay…with their health, with their lives…it could be you! Furthermore, in America you’ve got confidence. I got on a rickety ski lift in South America and I was wondering…was this thing gonna break? In the U.S. there are inspections, standards, the odds of flaws are low. Kind of like when I went snorkeling in the Caribbean and almost drowned… Nobody was looking out for me, the concessionaires had no responsibility!

Anyway, on Friday night we climbed to the top of Dalt Vila for this concert, which ended early, so the locals wouldn’t be disturbed. Early? That’s midnight!

And the lights are pulsing and the crowd is moving in time and I’m standing on stage with Sven Vath, who’s telling me his story.

He’s got twenty employees in Frankfurt. He’s got a record company, an agency…

And he’s got forty employees in Ibiza.

And I ask him, doesn’t he want to shift from Monday night, when he has his residency in Ibiza?

No, he LOVES Monday night! Because that allows him to do three or four festivals every weekend!

And how does he do this?


Word is getting out, but most people in America are unaware of the vast sums of money made by deejays. They report to nobody other than themselves. They don’t need the Fortune 500 to make their numbers, they’re doing quite well, without depending upon recorded music.

And then Sven excused himself, he had to hit the decks.

Yes, Sven is old school…he uses two Technics 1200s and a mixer. And the crowd was enraptured.

Sven Vath picking vinyl

Ibiza from Dalt Vila

3. And what I want to do right now, is get you all on a jet and take you to the Lio.

It’s a club. Owned by Pacha. Which seems beamed right out of the thirties. Or maybe “I Love Lucy”…you remember Ricky’s club!

Now this wasn’t the lumpy people of Pacha… This was European royalty. Or Russians. Or somebody so rich they didn’t care about the prices, which are far from low. That’s what happens when you visit Europe, you see income inequality in action. The Russians can outspend anybody!

Anyway, the Lio has food…it was the best meal I ate on the island.

There was stuffed lobster.

And veal tartare.

And black cod miso that gave Matsuhisa a run for its money.

But while we were eating, there was a stage show. Every five or ten minutes another act would emerge. Performing acrobatic feats, singing, dancing…it was like Cirque du Soleil but without the bogus self-importance. It was sheer entertainment…as you drank and ate and laughed and danced… It was everything you think Vegas once was, alive, today. Check it out:

lio ibiza

4. Our tour guide Friday night was Massimo, who was born in Syria, lived in the U.S. and now runs the Pacha magazine. I got a complete explanation of the antics in his homeland. He said the war was all about religion. Ensuring the “wrong people” don’t gain power.

And the straw that stirred the drink was Eddie Dean, who owns Pacha in New York. Hanging with Eddie is a blast, because he’s talkative, upbeat…he makes the night come alive.

Which it did. As we sat facing the stage, with our backs to the water and…

Take a look:

Ibiza tonight. From the insane Lio restaurant.

5. I flew home on Air Berlin, so I could take two flights instead of three. They served something that looked like worms which turned out to be northern shrimp, so I ate those, I was hungry. But nothing was gonna get me to partake of the triangle of gelatin with meat suspended inside… Want great food on the airplane? Fly to Asia!

6. I asked Sven when he slept… AT THE END OF THE MONTH!

Yes, you need a vacation to recover from your vacation in Ibiza.

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