Spent Friday and Saturday in Barcelona with my friend Helen. Besides Ibiza, I think this city’s the biggest tourist destination I’ve been to all summer. A recap:

• Visited two contemporary art museums: the Museu d’Art Contemporani de Barcelona and the Centre d’Art Santa Monica.
• Did a lot of hanging out around the Gothic Quarter and La Ramba, the major pedestrian walkway in which street performers and tourists abound.
• For meals: did everything from tapas to fast food to fruit from La Boqueria, a public meat and produce market.
• Hiked up to the tallest point of Park Güell, best known for featuring a ton of work from the Spanish architect Gaudí.
• Had dinner on the boardwalk with my friend Ben in Barceloneta.
• Saw the amazing production, A Disappearing Number, as part of the Grec’08 Festival de Barcelona.

Spain as a whole was fun and different, but I don’t really like tourist-packed cities for the most part (despite — or maybe because of — my birthplace being San Francisco, one of largest tourist destinations in the United States). Unlike New York or London, Barcelona seems like a place where the economy would collapse without tourism. San Francisco is the same way. And because I barely speak Spanish and definitely don’t speak Catalan, I’m attracted to establishments that serve English-speaking customers. How do you get an authentic feel for a place if the place is too busy trying to serve your needs as a visitor? This is why I’m very much looking forward to Southeast Asia this summer, and hopefully sometime next year, South America or Eastern Europe. I can’t wait to explore lesser known spots.

This is officially the most glamorous 24 hours of my life thus far, and I like to think that my entire existence is pretty fucking glamorous. (Just kidding, well half-kidding.) Since Zac wins the Best Summer Job Award for his gig at Ibiza’s premier concierge service, I’ve been enjoying VIP access to the most amazing places at an already amazing vacation spot. Immediate thought when I stepped off the plane: gee, it’s like 20 degrees hotter here than in Germany! Zac was at the gate, I squealed at the sight of him, and we were on the beach for lunch within ten minutes, no exaggeration. Then we had mojitos (again, on the beach) at Blue Marlin, ate dinner at L’elephant, and hit Space, my first superclub (it was voted the world’s number one nightclub several times over). Today we sunned despite the rain clouds and ate lunch at a restaurant that was … surprise, by the beach.

Our Monday night plans include people-watching in Ibizatown and partying at Privilege, the biggest nightclub in the world, which is hosting Tiësto, the best DJ in the world. Seriously, everywhere I’m going is either “the best” or “the biggest”. Fuck Vegas, this is adult Disneyland. Patrick is totally jealous about this DJ tonight since he’s really into techno and I’m just an indifferent listener. “This is so unfair. You’re not even going to appreciate the experience!” he said to me on the phone. (He’s currently on day three of a ten-day Israel trip, so I’m not exactly sympathetic.)

Of all the places I’ve been to in Europe, Ibiza has got to be the most foreign … at least in the sense that it might as well be television. Everyone here is extremely tan, fit, and scantily clad (or just as often, nude). The longest I’ve gone without hearing techno is three hours, and that’s because we were at dinner. There are famous people and wealthy people and politically important people, just walking around! I’m convinced this entire island is one big music video I accidentally stumbled upon. I would say “one big photo shoot”, but actually, there was a photo shoot at Blue Marlin yesterday. Um, pinch me. I’ve only been here one day and I can already tell this is going to be a week of extremes.

And also? I feel a lot better. But not because of Ibiza, precisely. Pretty sure it’s because of Zac :)

Ticket has been purchased to the party capital of the world. Zac picks me up tomorrow at 3:20pm. Thanks pal!

I’m there ‘til Friday, which means FIVE WHOLE DAYS of (homo)sex(uals), drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll. Then I take off to Barcelona for a weekend with Helen before my return to Heidelberg.

Let’s hope that the beach and sun are what I need to get out of my creative funk and melancholy. Fingers crossed.

I was vaguely considering going to Spain next week, and by “vaguely considering”, I mean that I was pretty sure I was going until I came back from London on Thursday and became incredibly depressed and tired and unwilling to travel. BUT it appears as if there’s actually a flight I can afford (thanks Germanwings!) and now I’m *this close* to booking a plane to Ibiza for tomorrow.

Last-minute, much? I haven’t even unpacked fully from London. My friend Zac is in Ibiza though, and I miss him badly. Kennedy is the only close friend I’ve seen in six weeks. SIX WEEKS. I love the girl to death, but seriously, I think I’m going crazy from isolation. Crying everyday for the rest of my time in Heidelberg is a pathetic but very realistic possibility at this point. This needs to be avoided at all costs.

Anyway, I suppose even the worst case Ibiza scenario would still involve me on a beach. That doesn’t sound too shabby at all.