Last party night in Ibiza, and Black Coffee had the honors of closing the cycle. UNVRS turned out to be the most expensive club of the entire trip — but I have zero regrets. There are places where you pay the cover and immediately wonder if it was worth it, and then there are places where the price makes sense the second you walk in. This was the latter. The crowd was noticeably better-looking, more respectful, and — something I genuinely appreciated after the previous nights — very few people smelled bad. That alone already justifies the price difference over any other spot on the island. Black Coffee's set landed exactly where it needed to: not overreaching, not boring. A solid, confident performance. He didn't try to reinvent himself that night — he just did what he does well, and that was more than enough.

While smoking a cigarette outside, I met a German guy. He told me it was his first solo trip and that his main mission was to meet women. I told him this was literally the perfect moment: Ibiza, Black Coffee night, beautiful people everywhere. Ideal conditions. He listened, nodded like he was convinced... then walked straight to the dancefloor and danced alone all night. I never saw him talk to a single person. That's the real truth about Ibiza: the place sets up every condition for you, but you still have to take the step yourself. He chose to dance. Respect.

On the venue itself: the lighting was very well done — the kind that pulls you into the atmosphere without you noticing. But the sound left something to be desired. It lacked punch. For a Black Coffee set, which lives off bass and weighted silences, that's something you feel. It didn't ruin the night, but if you're used to proper sound systems, you notice. The bar, on the other hand, no complaints. The girl serving me never once hinted at a tip — something other bartenders that week had practically turned into an unspoken obligation — and she was stunning, with a Slavic look that made me think Ukrainian. Great service, great attitude, no drama.

What I didn't love: the walk between the taxi drop-off and the entrance. Getting there it's fine — you have energy, you're excited. But on the way back, after hours of dancing with your feet completely destroyed, that walk feels eternal. Every step is a reminder that you've spent days moving like a savage across the entire island. Not a dealbreaker, but worth knowing before you go.

Bottom line: solid close to Ibiza. An intense, expensive, loud, and physical week. Cocoon, Café del Mar, Marco Carola at Pacha, Claptone at Chinois, Keinemusik, Circoloco at DC10, and Black Coffee to wrap it all up. No complaints. Now the atmosphere shifts completely — next stop, Berlin. Different city, different energy, a completely different way of experiencing music at night. We'll see how far I get at Berghain.

Me at UNVRS for Black Coffee

Me leaving UNVRS at dawn