Pacha

I wouldn´t be seen dead in a super club like Pacha back home. Not nearly enough Kylie. And waaay too many posey types in sunglasses (it´s a NIGHTclub. Take them off.) So I did kick and scream a bit. But everyone was up for it, and after a few bottles of red with Joe, Ronan, Nora and Disco Dan it was pretty much a given that I´d be going too.

And guess what? Loved it, didn´t I?









Danced like a mad thing until about 8am when the others hit the after party (wish I´d gone) but had to sub a cab for Joe and Mole who were out of cash. Got back to the hostel, necked a couple of coffees then took myself to the club over the road that was still banging (at 9am on a Sunday morning. I mean, what the?) Danced on my own to some trance (seriously, what´s THAT all about) until some French guy called Sebastian (who smelled like sick, nice) gave me a wake up call that it was probably time to go. So, that´s what I did.