The three best things about the holiday were:

1. The bar that served great mojitos while a constant parade of beautiful people, drag queens and muscle boys sauntered past
2. Celebrating my birthday with a 3 hour lunch at an almost ludicrously attractive beachside restaurant (with an almost ludicrously attractive waiter, come to think of it)
3. Fried doughnuts for breakfast

The three worst things were:

1. Given that we were pretty much the only non-Spanish on our beach, my glow-in-the-dark whiteness looked almost cadaverous. Once in the blue blue ocean, I looked like some kind of ship's beacon.
2. Getting horribly sunburned in a tiny narrow strip where my cream rubbed off around the edge of my cozzie on my right hip. It looks like I've leaned on a barbecue.
3. Suddenly discovering one night where all the English tourists hang out prior to clubbing. I'll give you a hint - it's not the fab mojito bar.

But can anyone tell me: what is all the fuss about with the clubs? We went to one and although it was ok, I wouldn't rave (ha ha ha) about it.