Latest

07/08/2018 - Un tal Toni. Sabiendo que nunca llegaré a ser m ... +++ 07/07/2016 - La primera edicion sale a la calle mañana viernes 8 de julio !! +++ 19/05/2016 - special thanx for the perfect day in paradise to George Solar, Rico from Blue Bar and Daniele from Tipic ! +++ 31/03/2016 - ha llegado la primavera y la isla se despierta – por fin ! +++ 03/12/2015 - only when the power of love overcomes the love of power will we live in peace . +++ 08/09/2015 - oh si oh si – verano se termina pronto ! +++ 16/04/2015 - oh si oh si, verano se esta acercando ! +++ 31/12/2014 - FELIZ ANO NUEVO PARA TOD@S !!! +++ 10/04/2014 - nuestro propio evento ‘local heroes’ va a celebrar 6 eventos especiales junto a carl cox’ music is revolution en space esta temporada ! +++ 09/04/2014 - poc a poc calentando motores por la temporada – y tu ? +++

23.03.2014 // Text: George Solar // Pix: artiG


I am new here.

I’m new here.

Wind North/Northeast, 7 Beaufort at least. It’s raining cats & dogs, with the sky almost black at lunchtime. My DJ booth faces east, located right outside a cute beach bar up north, about where the eye of the storm seems to be. The sea is heavy, waves crushing in on the rocks and sand just a few meters from where i try to play music and keep the equipment safe simultaneously. I wear 2 trousers, 3 pullovers, a scarf, gloves and 2 jackets, and still I shiver freezing. 40+ people are watching me from the warm & dry inside of the chiringuito, enjoying their food while listening to my selection. It’s the end of november, year 2012, and here I am in Ibiza, living the dream. Down on the beach, chilled to the bone.

How on earth did I get here?

I’m new here… then again I’m not. For more than half a decade, Ibiza to me was not much more than a transit stopover on my way to Formentera, the mystic neighbouring island. Okay, I did the occasional sunset at lovely Kumahras on Cala De Bou once in a while, visited Ibiza Sonica in San Rafael, maybe friends in Santa Gertrudis or sneaked sideways onto outer Playa D’en Bossa for a little session, but most of what I knew or had experienced so far in terms of Ibiza more or less easily lived up to the bad & tacky image the „capitol of electronic music“ has where I originate from.

GeorgeSolar2

Beached out pseudo-Miami style cheapness all over the place, the same annoying bad taste oomph-oomph music even in the most magic locations, of course during the most absurd daytime… and all sorts of other rip offs on all levels. Meanwhile, most crazed out fiesta sheep desperately wondering how to get to the next party and therefore not being able to contribute to the vibe of the one they’re already on. Nothing, really nothing close compared to even the ugliest spot on Formentera (and there’s not a lot of those there).

Time to take the boat, leave the madness behind (because that’s what I always came to do in the first place anyway) and get out of here asap. Ibiza? A giant, shallow & depressing 24/7 tourist trap, a continuous energetic failure pushing a highly overrated, foolishly misinterpreted marketing gag down people’s throats: to make the youth of today (and, sadly, also the better part of yesterday) believe the illusion of „the party never stops so why care about the real issues“. Burning and looting included. No way would I swap that for the dream of living on Formentera, playing boss music for sunset on Platja Migjorn and die there in peace.Full stop.

Little did I know…

When asked to look after a finca near Benirras over the winter of 2011, I heard myself saying „yes, sure“ much to my own amazement. I had been to that area a couple of months before, so I instantly recalled the sheer magic and beauty. The fields, the amazing vegetation, the colours, the aroma, that overall sense of effortless happy easiness even when there’s no beach and sea involved – everything up there made me think: this must be as close at is gets to hobbit land. The shire. Middle earth. The spot probably most far away from those big city urban blues I was still suffering from then. In other words: I had finally arrived in paradise, and healing was on the way. On any regular sunshiny day, everything surrounding you in the north of the white island is so beautiful, rich and tranquilo that quite often I sat under one of those fantastic trees, staring into a ridiculously blue sky while being completely humbled and very very happy, almost as if time stood still. Just bees & birds & flowers… my life my life my life in the sunshine. Sometimes I even pictured Frodo and Gandalf coming down from just up the next hill on a unicorn, offering me a toke from the pipe and a piece of elves bread… in fact it wouldn’t even surprise me if that really would happen one of these days. It’s that sort of vibe up there on a regular. Up until today, I sometimes mistake the white horse by the tree at Can Curune for a unicorn to be honest.

Ibiza? Yes please!

And so, I used that wintertime to look around, feel it out, get a vibe, go deeper and catch a fire. I got infected by that Ibiza bug big time. Upon returning to the big bad city that spring, I sold my furniture, almost my entire record collection and the better part of my studio equipment, just to get back to paradise and live there all year round as soon as I possibly could. Just a couple of months later, I arrived to stay with just 2 armchairs, a table, 250 vinyl records, my old battle mixer, a mirror ball (you never know do you…), two computers, a couple of books  and some clothes. No doubt, now I made it…

GeorgeSolar1

Little did I know – again…

Fate sent me down to serve time on the orks loaden fake frontline called Playa D’en Bossa in my first summer season as an Ibiza based dDJ. Maybe I should mention at this point that being a dj in Ibiza nightlife is one thing – being a chillout/sunset daytime dj though is something else altogether. While the world out there might fall for „that other“ truly ironic island stereotype („Ibiza is SOOO chill“), manipulated by all those cheesy pseudo ibiza chill compilations and tacky handbag house collections that are out there flooding streams, clouds and itunes in an almost disgusting way, the fine art of selecting a decent eclectic sunset in a truly balearic fashion (and without incorporating any of the standard boom-boom 4-to-the-floor) is an almost dying artform here. Good taste, if there is any, lasts just until the second round of chupito shots hit the brainwaves of those present. Thats when the inexplainable desire for „party-at-any-price“ pointlessness sets in. Sometimes Ibiza reminds me of that weird planet mentioned in „Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy“ – where the everlasting party already goes into the 4th generation, without anybody remembering what the party was all about in the first place – neighbouring planets and recent visitors get looted for drink supply on a regular just to make sure the beat goes on, and the constant dark thunderstorm clouds seen above that planet are in fact caused by battleships of rivalling carpet cleaning companies trying to land the deal of the millenium for the big cleanup. With the exception maybe that a long overdue big cleanup might just never ever happen in Ibiza.

For roundabout three months, I tried all sorts of trumpets to at least bring down those walls of Jericho on Playa D’en Bossa (or maybe, to stay in the genre, let’s call that area „Saruman’s land“)… with hords of either white, rather see-through or completely sunburned orks, drinking buckets of chupito and kanya for breakfast while watching me/listening to me die between all that flashy, artificial, candy flossy pam-pam, oomph-oomph and blam-blam. To put a downtempo dj with a chill mission on Playa D’en Bossa equals… maybe putting a teaspoon of water in hellfire. One tiny hiss, a little fluffy white cloud and poof: hardly any better way to completely go unnoticed while getting totally consumed and trampled on by the party orks of Saruman’s land. For some reason, I understand Don Quixote much better now – in fact I am really feeling him. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. I am back to only going south for airport runs and port business now.

Part of my favourite Ibiza theory anyway is that Santa Gertrudis would be Minas Tirith (the last fortress), and guess which island town (clue: turn west) would easily qualify to be the balearic version of Mordor? Exactly. But maybe that’s just because it’s winter again as I type this and I have just watched the new Hobbit movie. Then again… think about it.

The next summer season – the one we just survived actually – treated me way better and made me discover the beauty of the north east of the island. Not only because that’s where I live (in the campo… to be adressed again in detail later on), but also because meanwhile I had landed a residency in that funky new beach bar I mentioned earlier… located just above Santa Eulalia on the road to Es Canar. A pretty decent spot as also it stayed open during the most difficult winter months and so allowed for paid work and some social life while the rest of island businesses went into their routine annual hibernation.

Routine annual hibernation? Oh yes, there is such a thing on Ibiza, like on all islands and in most summer tourist spots. But believe me: the winter hibernation on the balearic islands is deep, long and not to be taken lightly.

No, winters over here ain’t exactly cold, more like middle european autumn. Yet, wherever you happened to find a place to live: in the countryside (aka „campo“) or in an appartment („piso“) in or near one of the little towns, or elsewhere, you are close to the sea no matter what… and so, for example, the (sometimes unreal) humidity at night hits on more than just one level. Combined with heavy wind and constant rain, it makes quite some daily routine things taken for granted normally (heating, dry laundry, no moulding clothes in the drawers) a bit difficult to handle. When you live in a little casita in the countryside, chances are there’s constant draft, you have a stone floor with not much isolation – and the beautiful pine trees that protect your place from the burning summer sun might cause that your home is guaranteed to be safe from any ray of warm, dry winter sunlight. Humidity: 80% + on most mornings. Up to 10 liters of water filtered from the in house air in a couple of hours on a regular winters day by your new ugly buzzing friend, the dehumidifier.

No problem if you have decent central heating of course (although the energy prices in Spain are the most expensive in all of europe, increasing by 70% over the last years) – but since in most Ibiza houses there’s nothing but a cozy, romantic fireplace or oven, you are doomed to get back to archaic basics and get/chop wood. Lots of wood. 100kg a week for a small house during winter months is not an exception… rest assured that still 2 hours after the fire went out (that was on all day and has left the smell of smoke and carbon monoxide all around), your home will be just as cold and damp as it was before you started the fire in the first place.

Outside morning temperature 15 C, inside the house: 08 C. Welcome to paradise. Oh, and did I mention you will need that dehumidifier on all day so you better get used to an additional humming & buzzing from the other room while you try to keep the fire burning. Because outside, there’s another storm raging. Maybe even it is going to last for a couple of days, so you hopefully stocked up on all sorts of supplies.

And when it rains over here, it pours… to say the least. An average balearic winter storm easily qualifies for a heavy blizzard in most other places around the globe. Done with chopping wood, desperately trying to dry your laundry (which of course increases humidity inside the house – the same one you tried to get rid of just before with that uninspiringly humming dehumidifier) and trying to keep your food supply from the ever crawling ghosts of heavy damp on day 2 of the storm? Good, because now it’s time to clear out the water puddles from last nights monsoon like rain and maybe place some strategically wise located buckets to ease the next day… that’s before you realize the heavy rain has set in again, adding a spooky sound dimension to the dehumidifier buzz and the crazy stormwind grabbing your house by its foundation and making it shake. Ah, the elements.

It’s early afternoon, it’s almost as dark as night outside, and only now it dawns on you that today is a national holiday (lots of those around here) so there better be enough food and tobacco in the house. Let alone any sort of movies you haven’t seen and/or books you haven’t read over & over already. Some areas have no internet connection here still (worth another complete book to write about in fact…), and defintely not during a storm so you better have your meditation- and maybe also teleportation skills going. Because otherwise you will be forced to work on just those. Try forced meditation with a side order of dehumidifier buzz, heavy storm sounds through paper thin walls under a wood/tin roof and maybe a little ongoing power cut on top at 5 C inside temperature.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

When did you check your gas bottle last time (that’s if you are into cooking food or boiling water for tea/coffee, not only but also during a power cut in the storm) – and why not just go back to bed to sleep until it’s over? Ah: because the firewood was wet so you had to use too much gasoline drenched fire starters. And so it smells like gasoline all over the place, both rooms (no door in between, of course) are filled with thick smoke so better open all windows & doors to avoid carbon monixide poisoning and make it to bed without pounding headache (for once). Now it’s cold & damp again and the fireplace is still not working – but giving off enourmous amounts of thick smoke to add to your mood. Power cut also means: no electric heating for the water in the shower, none for the well. Grab another blanket, calm down, sit back & try a smile. Just another day in paradise.

But of course, there are advantages too. Once the sky has cleared, the walk on the beach nearby just after the storm is always the most amazing & beautiful one. You turn into a nature person anyway, following the tides and  the sun/moon driven rhythm of time automatically. You develop muscles you never thought you even had (remember chopping wood, adding: collecting little branches in the forest on a daily basis to avoid the encendido fire starters in the long run), discover new in- and outside territory on a regular… when you go for a walk in the countryside (because even the same amazing beach can get a bit one-dimensional at times) and walk by some beautiful farm houses in the pine forest you can tell what sort of wood the people living there use for their oven: by the smell. Olive wood doesn’t only last longer in a fire, it also smells better (when burning, that is). And yes, you become quite a pro in the art of keeping a fire going on more than one level…

Meanwhile, it’s mid january. Almond blossom time is just around the corner. Most good people just returned from the festivities on the mainlands, time for a bit more chill and then get ready to roll on, contribute to and witness another crazy summer. It’s almost there. The many merchant souls leave for Bali or Thailand now to get their supplies going and/or collections printed, following the sun to escape a few more weeks of grim time before spring finally turns the island vibe around. Soon. Songs and books are being written right about now, and they all tell of better times. Chainsaw sounds cut through the seaside air as everybody stocks up on fire wood one last time, and on early sunday mornings gunshots shake the countryside neighbourhood. Hunting season and therefore not a good time for rabbits… but a good time to see the ever-so-mystic Podenco dogs doing their thing. Interestingly enough, the female Podencos are the best & most dedicated hunters by the way… food for thought.

No power cut last night, lots of wind outside still but sunny & blue skies at the same time. Off soon to stock up on firewood as another storm is said to be rolling in soon. It might be warmer on the outside now – inside the house it’s definitely not.

Wait: did I just see a couple of dwarves and elves out there in front of my window facing the forest garden? Somebody told me just the other day that legend has it Ibiza used to be home to a couple of dragons way back in the days. But that’s probably to be explored further in in the next part of this story.

For now, I’m new here – then again I’m not.

GeorgeSolar3

George Solar, February 2014

The author is a former journalist for print & TV and now resident dj at Babylon Beach Ibiza & Blue Bar Formentera. Besides additional music production, compiling & remix work, George is finishing his first book as well as his solo album these days. His weekly radio show COMFY DUB was on air via Formentera based Radio Illa 2009 – 2011, on Ibiza Sonica 2011 – 2013 and is about to be relaunched on a new prestigeous island station very soon.

More info about George:

soundcloud.com/george-solar // mixcloud.com/georgesolar // twitter.com/georgesolar

Tags: , ,

hofer66

you better be good.

dub - Spirit of Ibiza® is a registered trademark with register no. 2.408.873(0). All rights reserved. All information contained within these pages is protected by copyright laws. Reproduction of any information, as well in parts, of this site in any form is only to be allowed with written permission of dub - Spirit of Ibiza®. Any contempt of the antecedent will be prosecuted by law. Whilst providing external links to other websites, dub - Spirit of Ibiza® does by no means accept responsibility for content and accuracy of these websites and any loss, injury or inconvenience sustained by any person resulting from the information published by these external sites. Respect the freedom of press. To get in contact with us please send a mail to info@dubibiza.com, we will in any case keep all given personal data strictly confidential.