The Chosen One: Stokes Ibiza Beach Camp

Editor’s note: over the winter we ran a competition to find the “Chosen One”, a one-of-a-kind, absolutely average, everyday hero who would win our Most Ordinary Extraordinary Job In The World — a summer of back-to-back Stoke Travel trips, where not only would they be expected to have the time of their life, but to also much in and set up tents/serve you heathens your beer. Well, our old mate Ryan is the winner, the Chosen One, and this is his blog about his time with Stoke Travel. Four trips down, who knows how many to go, get ready for the most fun of your life, Ryno. 

I rocked up outside of the campground La Playa Ibiza in Cala Martina where, after I was let in and directed, I dropped my bags in the outdoor living room and sat down on one of the furnished, pallet-made couches. I looked over the dining table, the bar top and kitchen, and a van, parked with broken brakes and functioning as a wall for the straw canopy overhead which displayed when and where the party was going on for the day, as well as pertinent social media information. I began with yoga and the welcome beer, sat down for crepes, walked a tour of the campground, and finally relaxed at Stoke’s ace card, a beach camp on an island in the Mediterranean.

The month that came and went was hazy like the backdrop of the coastline opposite the beach on any given day. We sat still all day, or enveloped ourselves into the endless cycle of clubbing, swimming, and baking in the sun, regardless of the amount of shade we were situated in. Twice a week we could go down to Chirincana, the bar through the wrought iron gates within the campground, and listen to live music. The Stokies hosted cliff jumping, snorkeling, boat parties, and day trips to Cala Nova, a nude beach only a twenty-five minute walk away, and continued to enjoy themselves in their down time with drinking games, traveling with the guests to various parts of the island, and ushering the horde of us to the beach at night. In Es Canar, the town you walk through on your way to Cala Nova, you can buy a free shot with a club ticket at Roxy’s (so long as you say you’re with Stoke), visit Mr. Kebap from eight at night to five the next morning and feast for cheap, go to karaoke every night of the week, or have the Stoke logo tattooed on your body free of charge. Whenever you want, you can take public transport to a beach or a sunset or a memory and share it with the general public, as well as your new friends, in droves and limitless.

I took a page out of Mike Posner’s book, but instead of feeling ten years older, I felt lost in time for the month I spent in a summer town. Ibiza breathes life into all the luxury, the club scene and discos, the perfectly sculpted beaches, the relaxed Spanish heritage, the sweltering heat with its assaulting cicadas, the breeze off the beach, the endless stars. It is true that people who want to party should come here, but it can be said that people who want to grow should also come here. Stoke’s tone here is inclusive, supportive, engaging, enthralling, and mindful of the madness which they perpetrate. If you find yourself here, you’ll find yourself home.

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