After our mishap with the Asshats stealing Ali’s purse and a diversion to Barcelona (Plan B) for a replacement passport we made it to Ibiza. As is usually the case, things worked out for the best. Although the Airbnb in Barcelona wasn’t great, we had a really good time there. Given that we’d originally scheduled more time in Ibiza than Mallorca, and I liked Mallorca more, it was all good.
Ibiza’s old town and Castle were lovely. There’s something about the heart of a city that makes my soul sing. Like people, they’re unique, each with it’s own vibe and color pallet.
The views from Castell de Eivissa were appropriately amazeballs.
We had quite the adventure the first day as the wind was intense—gusts that nearly knocked you over as we stood on the observation area. Later, we’d stopped for a drink and something below us exploded and the sound of glass and metal tumbling down the narrow street followed. The narrow streets act as a funnel for the wind, and a large light fixture had taken a short flight with an explosive ending. The metal were bits of decoration and a serving tray that wanted an adventure. That tray will never look the same again, battle scars from a grand journey, but as with our lives, some things are worth it.
As we started to leave, the rain came like the hounds of hell. We turned tail and dashed back up the stairs to wait it out. Mother natures colors our days regardless of where we are. Unless it’s on the ISS. Things are pretty stable there aside from the radiation blasts and occasional impacts. A lunar base will have very boring weather…Mars on the other hand… Sorry, squirrel!
I had to research the centerpiece at the roundabout. The hounds of Ibiza! Natural exterminators.
Ibiza was great, but I wouldn’t want to live there. At least not where we stayed. Club life is large and in charge with many not opening until midnight. I respect that, I just have no desire to join in.
I had my first and last Hooka experience. Not overly impressed.
Ibiza was bookended by disruptive events. Arriving two days late due to the theft, our departure was accompanied with torrential rains and horizontal winds. The agent for our host was supposed to meet us at 7am for a checkout. I figured he’d have the taxi info for our ride to the airport. A little before seven the not so helpful gent (didn’t even offer to help with any luggage on our way in, and Ali’s suitcase is bigger than she is. Lol) texted to say he wasn’t coming out in the storm.
I searched for a taxi service online while Ali texted back. He didn’t reply till after I’d found one. We gathered out luggage in the lobby and I stood out front with my umbrella waiting for the taxi. I flapped my arms like a crazy woman, nearly losing my umbrella, when it cruised by and ran back to get Ali and the bags. The rain was coming down in buckets and the wind whipped it sideways. The parking lot was a river and the driver wasn’t going to get out until we were at the boot. Can’t really blame him, but what a cluster fuck! Everything, including us was drenched and Ali’s larger bag kept trying to escape in the river as we handled the other bags.
It’s a real pity there was no one filming that fiasco, it would have been hysterical. Finally, seated in the back of the cab we glanced at each other—two drenched, disheveled blonds—and burst out laughing.
We weren’t the only drowned rats at the Ibiza airport that early morning. Good times!
The flat was nice. Lovely balcony but quite as depicted. It was directly over a busy street. The 10min walk to Old Town is more like 30. I did it once in twenty but that was walking at my long-legged quick pace so it’s not quite as represented. As mentioned above, the man who checked us in was perfunctory at best.
There were two pods of coffee for the two of us for three nights, no bedside lights and a Whip!
Yes, you read that right. I couldn’t find the WiFi password but I found a whip. Giddy-Up!
We’ve never had a host say they’d be there to check us out before. I’m guessing things tend to get a bit wild in Ibiza. Left me trying not to think about the stains on the pillow I pulled from the closet the night before. #IgnoranceIsBliss
I’m Sabine Priestley, an electrical engineer and author of Science Fiction Romance novels (yes, that kind of novel). I am a dreamer and a chaser of magic. Fluent in sarcasm.
Officially nomad as of June 1st, everything I own is in a 10’x10’ storage in Florida. It’s never too late to chase your dreams, and after a recent divorce, I’ve decided to live those dreams and make them real. I’m looking for home.
Next up on my nomad adventure is Mallorca and Roving Herds of Germans.
I invite you to come with me while I explore! Sign up for my blog at www.sabinepriestley.com