IBIZA for €14 p/Night – Pros vs. Cons

You expect certain things to be present when you pay to stay at a hotel. That being said, there are certain things you expect to be absent; for example, remnants from previous guests? I mean, let’s not be presumptuous. I’m only paying 14 euro a night… so in true sorority fashion, let’s pro-con-pro.

    I pride myself on being a pretty easy-going travel partner. The closet door’s broken? I don’t need a closet, I guess. Smells like cigarette smoke? Pshh, whatever. It’s like “eau de Dunwoody Tavern.” Home-y. There’s hair in our sheets? Oh, no proble— OKAY. WAIT. There are a few qualities a girl just can’t overlook. Seeing as sketchy bedding is one of them, we started our vacation by becoming the front desk’s favorite guests and requesting new sheets. At this point, it was around 10pm, so we opted to change them ourselves rather than wait for the maid the following day. Nothing says raging party pre-game like cheap beer and hospital corners!
    Although the proprietors behind the good ol’ Marco Polo may have cut a few corners on sanitation, I can’t complain about the location. We always felt safe walking around (okay, so one of the guys we met got a little stalker-esque, but since he was only a temporary resident, I’m not counting that) and we were just a skip away from lots of bars, clubs, restaurants, and docks. Even though we went in the off season, we certainly found places to go and people to see.
    No one comes to Ibiza to hop on Facebook and surf the web, but hey. Girl’s gotta check her bank account balance every once and a while. Thank goodness they have a community computer, right? Operated by coins, a la arcade games? Nope. Try inserting your change. When it doesn’t work, the pleasant hotel lady will come over and unplug it. Then shrug. I guess you gotta be flexible when residing/working at the Marco P, but I’d like my 50 cents back. Thats like… 70 cents in America!!!!
    The consistent upside of vacationing in a place where your accommodations cost less than your cab ride is that you meet people from all over the map – literally. We should have guessed that the list of friends would read like a cast from the Real World (or, alrighhht. Jersey Shore. Or maybe The Amazing Race? People were mostly in pairs… okay nevermind) when our first greeting on our way to the room was a scream to “BAY WHOY OH BAY AH-ND JOIN THE PAHH-TEEE!” (read: “byob, and join the party!”)
    The instigator of what seemed to be around-the-clock madness at “The Hotel Marco Polo 2” (yes, 2) was a guy from New Zealand. He’s a professional substitute teacher in England. Yes, you read that correctly. Add to the list of comrades a PE teacher from Australia, 6 guys from California who study in Florence (small world, they live on our street here!), and a mother-daughter duo from England (the daughter was 14. They clubbed together nightly, raging til a lot later than we did. Should I admit to that in writing?) and you’ve got quite the concept for a reality show. What can I say? €14/night speaks a hell of a lot of languages.

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