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6 Months in Ibiza

 

Hi everyone! Long time no blog... Lets catch up :)


Since I lasted posted a blog I've genuinely lived 10 different lives. Aside from graduating university (with a first class honours!) I've also spent 6 months living in Ibiza! 




You may be wondering how this came around and it's actually quite simple. I was living my Holylands, final year student life when I seen a job advert on Facebook for Ibiza Rocks. I applied on the spot, on a whim, thinking to myself nothing would come of it but if it did, it would mean I could escape grad job life (for the summer at least) and delay adulthood for a little longer. Thankfully, I was in luck! I passed all the stages, got the interview and got the job!

However, being me, things are never straight forward. I'd originally planned to move to Ibiza and start working on the 6th of June, as I would've finished all my university exams and assignments, spent a week or so at home, saying goodbyes and packing my things, and would be well organised and ready to set off. This did not happen, obviously. 




Instead, the next months involved stress about accommodation and getting an NIE number. For those who don't know, an NIE number is essentially the Spanish equivalent of a national insurance number. It stands for Numero de Identidad Extranjero - which translates roughly to foreign identity number. You need this to work in Spain, but unfortunately it can be very difficult to get. Especially in Ibiza. This is simply because you have to get this number from the police stations, but because so many people need one, they are always too busy with appointments and unable to take you. This is where my plans fell apart. The only appointment I could get was 26th May, the day after my final EVER university exam. And it was around 2 weeks away by the time I got the appointment. 

But knowing what was at stake I took the appointment anyway. I went to Belfast and did my final exam at 9am, rushed home to grab my suitcases at 12pm, was in the Lagan Bar drinking a crisp Orchard Thieves at 1pm, was in Mallorca airport eating a meal deal at 6pm and was FINALLY in Ibiza at 8pm. Did I mention the only flights from Belfast on a Wednesday in June were connecting flights? Of course they were. It was one of the most hectic days of my life but it was worth it in every way. I got the summer in Ibiza and I got the university result, an all round success I'd say!





So here I was, two weeks early, living in Ibiza. Thankfully my friend had moved over a few weeks prior so I was able to stay with her until my apartment was ready to move into. Considering the fact my phone broke at Ocean Beach and my new apartment actually fell through (on the day we were supposed to move in) and I was technically homeless with no form of communication, I owe her my life for being there. 

Anyway, traumatic events aside, I had a great time. My job was easy, I was getting a tan, I was meeting loads of new people, I was going to the best and most iconic superclubs in the world and I was ultimately getting paid to live on holiday. Obviously, there were hard days (or weeks in my case, I also ended up in a Spanish hospital because one side of my head was completely swollen up and I couldn't hear lol) but looking back, I honestly can't complain. It's all part of the experience, eh?




In my next few blog posts I will give you all an update of what I got up to during my 6 months on the white isle but I think that’s enough trauma dumping for today! 


Thanks for reading,

Clodagh xx 


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