A night out with the locals

On June 20, 2014December 4, 2014 By Conversations with StrangersIn Entertainment, Ibiza, Life, Parties, People you may have heard of, Travel/vacationsLeave a comment

Things happen in Ibiza. Nice people pick you up from the side of the road at Es Caliu restaurant and take you to VIP at the hottest gig in town.

“Who is this guy?” I asked my hostess once in the car. “You know” she replied, “He sings that song: “I need to know now, need to know now, can you love me again?” “Oh, yes, I do know it!” “He’s phenomenal” she said.

We drove through the wilds of the Ibizan countryside towards the setting sun and the even wilder environs of San Antonio.

On arrival at Ibiza Rocks Hotel we were yellow wristbanded and ascended to the VIP area. Upstairs from the balcony, we took a view – literally. From our premium vantage point we could see the by now infamous swimming pool and a young buoyant crowd, eager to see their peer perform.

It was so happening, with the buzz of a singer about to appear on stage who I feel we’ll be hearing about for years to come, that I struggled to keep up.

The charisma of John Newman’s performance was something to behold. A strong voice, a unique look and a way with words: “I know you’re all here for the week you’ve saved up all year for – so let’s ‘ave it tonight!”

Hands were in the air and R – the hostess with the mostest turned to me excitedly: “This is it! This is the song!” Everyone sang along to an anthem less intangible than those of the 90’s – closer to the heart, and transmitted from a man who wears his on his sleeve – enhanced by a voice that’s still in my head today.

The after party took place at a small rustic hotel, deserving of a guided tour such is its history on this island. I stood in reception and took in the illustrious photographs adorning the walls.

Suddenly there was a commotion at the entrance. I heard the the Northern tones of a dominant force and immediately made my way through the fray to introduce myself.

“For goodness sake, how old are you with a voice like that?” “I’m 24” he replied. He smelled lovely, hair slicked back with a blonde streak, a gold necklace around his neck ..and I spotted some white socks. “Are they a tribute to Michael?” I asked. “No! Don’t look at the feet!” “But I love your look! It’s different. Where did you get that interesting pendant though?”

“Thank you” he said. “I try, I try. Oh…I designed the necklace myself.”

Of course he did. It goes without saying.

New kid in town

On June 13, 2014July 26, 2015 By Conversations with StrangersIn Entertainment, People you may have heard of, The Cuban BrothersLeave a comment

T and I approached the venue. The music was thumping and I wondered if we were in the wrong place. The pictures of this beach club looked so nice – so sexy; lots of people lounging casually by the pool drinking buckets of champagne with the sun shining down upon them.

If Pinky was there he would have said ‘What fresh hell is this?’ as we walked in and tried to make our way through a seething mass of semi naked bodies. Never mind, we’re adventurous types and with one Caipiroska down we started to move to the music.

Kengo ‘the bastard’ as he’s fondly known, hopped on the decks and suddenly everyone woke up.

I looked at a tall sultry looking figure standing beside him. He seemed like the new boy, suited and booted, a little shy and slightly ill at ease – Domenico’s been around for a few months now, but I’d yet to witness him in the flesh as it were.

Miguel arrived. “Ocean Beach, Ibiza, it’s great to be here, the feeling is nice, the feeling is nice.” He walked up to a man tattooed from head to toe with a large beer in one hand, and pulled the free hand over to his crotch: “Hey! Security! Security!” he shouted in protest.

He turned to another group: “You from Birmingham? Lovely place. Before my porn career, I used to run a brothel there, I think maybe your mother worked for me. No, sorry, sorry, it was your grandmother!”

The dancing started. Archerio, a Dad for just 11 days now took to the floor with Kengo San as the new boy looked on. “There’s just something about him..” I said to T.

Miguel officially introduced Domenico. He somersaulted out to join them and then breakdanced in the most graceful manner I’d ever seen. Tall and lean with an incongruous sort of Made in Chelsea look, his body seemed to be made of rubber.

After the performance I asked Archerio where they’d met him. “At a dance off” he replied. “We were so impressed we asked him to join us. He’s only 19! He does this amazing thing with his legs where he makes them a dead weight and then just spins around.”

I turned to Domenico. “So, is this your day job now?” “Well, I’m in a band as well; we don’t have a name yet, but we will – look out for me.”

We will Domenico, we will – and we like how you fit.

Boy stuff

On June 13, 2014December 4, 2014 By Conversations with StrangersIn SportLeave a comment

I sat next to some heavily tattooed gentlemen on the beach. They were talking about ‘Gumbo’ or so I thought. Suddenly it occurred to me. “Excuse me, did you say the Gumball was arriving in San Antonio tonight?” “Yeah, then they’re driving into town. There’s going to be a skateboarding park too.”

Hmmm, I thought as I lay back down enjoying the now cooler rays of the days’ sun. That can only mean one thing: Los Hermanos Cubanos are in town.

I What’s App’d my host and told him the news. “Yeah, we thought we’d go down there later, speak to a few people. Watch Tony Hawk do his stuff. “Who’s he?” I asked. “He’s like a world famous skateboarder – been doing it for ages.” “So what’s he up to here?” “Good question” said the ever prescient A. “It’s a sort of add-on to the spectacle of the rally – something extra to keep the punters happy.”

My chariot arrived and I picked up my things to head home for dinner with A and T. “I’m cooking curry” T told me. “Ah, unfortunately that won’t wash with my braces – I mean literally; the colour of the curry powder turns them yellow”. “No problem, we’ll have a curry without curry!”

One fine dinner later and we were back in the Ford Transit – or Betty as she’s fondly known – headed to the hottest ticket in town, and some might say even further afield.

The beats were loud – drawing us in. But there was another noise – the revving of expensive engines. I heard a voice – could it be..? Yep, sure enough I saw the back of an afro, some Hawaiian shorts.. and even Archerio – maybe not even two weeks after becoming a Dad.

“We can’t stop S, I want to get up to the skate park and see Tony.” So we carried on, through the crowds in the port past one after another gas guzzling souped up beast of a vehicle masquerading as a car.

The irony of the massive Greenpeace boat moored to one side wasn’t lost on anyone least of all T. “But that’s the thing about here – it’s an island. Everyone has to get by so there’s a myriad of interests expressed – leave your ethics at the door” I said.

We headed back to Betty. There she was head and shoulders above all the other cars in the place. “I might come with you to see the Chicken Fajita Brothers on Friday” T smiled. That was a green light.

We walked in the door, and he took his shirt off. “See, he’s getting ready for the pool party already” A said.

Conversations with strangers suggestion for an alternative World Cup theme song:

World Cup matters

On June 11, 2014 By Conversations with StrangersIn Uncategorized2 Comments

Have you ever gotten a bus to a pool party? No, neither have I, but I’ve a feeling I may be doing so this week – and on my own to boot.

Never mind about that for the moment. Here at the airport waiting on another delayed flight, I checked out the Havianas: They were everywhere from a dedicated stand in the middle of the concourse to Harrods, J D Sports, and everywhere in between. Those savvy Brazilians – and quite right too – cashing in on their imminent hosting of the World Cup.

I tried to find my size and once deciding on a pair, which took a mere hour of my time in exhausting all the various options, I asked the New Zealand manager if he thought I should customize them.

We looked at the potential embellishments on offer; miniature pin flags, baby flip flops and Swarovski crystals. “Don’t they tear the rubber though – if you stick that great big pin in?” “No, not at all” he replied. He showed me one he’d made earlier and then reiterated “Havianas wouldn’t be doing this all around the world if it was going to damage the product.”

The inevitable bottle of water purchase followed along with a quick survey of duty free and finally it was time to go to the gate.

Waiting to board, I thought about the World Cup – I always love it. When does it start? Will I miss the opening ceremony? Is there an opening ceremony? I need to get into the loop on that one. Would I find someone to accompany me to a poolside party? Above all else, I thought about my upcoming accommodation.

I am to stay with some Norweigans in the countryside. I racked my brains to try and remember if I’d ever met someone from Norway. I knew they were vegan – these particular ones – and experts in trail biking – if indeed that’s what it’s called?

I ate the vegetarian sandwich offered by the cabin crew. The carrots played havoc with my recently revised braces and I surreptitiously checked everything was in order as I looked out of the window.

The lady beside me calmly continued to read her magazine. Oh wait, no, she was asleep. Bang goes that option for a partner in crime. Perhaps she’d wake up when the drinks came around and there would be an opportunity for a persuasive chat.

The spot

On June 6, 2014December 4, 2014 By Conversations with StrangersIn Food and drinks, London2 Comments

We’d breezed into the Chiltern Firehouse at 7pm on a Friday night. It’s an inconspicuous entrance as befits a place where there are a lot of loud voices inside who know who they are and who know other people know who they are.

Naturally there was nothing banal on the menu, champagne cocktails presided closely followed by the more de rigeur martinis. I asked for one that wasn’t on the menu: “But only if it’s made with Agave Syrup” I said to the waitress, “Otherwise, a glass of rose please.” “I’m sure we make a good one here” she said confidently.

Our French waiter assured us our pleasure was his pleasure as he placed a scrumptious looking Margarita with crushed rock salt around the outside down along with a glass of white wine for Nicole. We clinked glasses and watched as two Indian gentlemen sat down next to us. I couldn’t take my eyes off the cardboard packet that was placed on the table between them.

One of them spotted me and I took my chance. “May I have one please? Are they cigarettes?” “Ah, no, but happiness is a cigar named Hamlet….if you remember the advert?” “Well, I was a baby” I replied. “But yes.” He offered me one and I accepted, then lit it for me. “Do I inhale?” I asked. “Of course, it would be a crime not to.”

Our food came and we ate, savouring the deliciousness of a May evening outside with the frisson of a ‘place’ to accompany it. We listened to an American gentleman on his phone: “I’m at the Chiltern. Yeah, it’s like, the spot. Look, about the movie, it’s metaphorical, right? I’ll meet him here, that’s all I want is to do is to reach out to James. Perfect. Perfect. Call me. Anytime. Yeah. I’ll be up at 1 in the morning.”

The Indian gentlemen paid their check as I explained to Nicole what life was really about.

Moments later Hamlet man rose to go: “I hope the cigar brings you happiness tonight. And, I listened to your advice.” “About what?” I said. “About life” he replied nodding sagely.

I headed to the Ladies. The sound of a myriad swishing doors opening and closing surrounded me. I spied an ornate gold dish and asked one of the many flat capped doorman where it came from. “It’s the new celebrity dog bowl” he replied. A suave curly haired Maitre’D opened another door, “Quite extraordinary” I replied. “There’s something very 1980’s Versace about it”. He laughed. “Yes, of course Madame.”

We paid our bill. “What’s with the plain black matchbox” I asked yet another waiter. “Oh, we’re just not sure how we want to brand it yet” he said. “The Standard in New York – it took them 10 weeks to figure out the design of the match boxes there.” “Of course” I said, “You have to live in a place for a while first before you know what colour to paint the walls.”