A Walking Tour Of Ibiza Town: The All-Natural Way To Get High.
I was going to have a bathroom update for you today, but instead there are toothpicks shoved into the hinge holes in the vanity and our shower still has no head and Justin and I spent most of the weekend completely baked on bathtub paint fumes which are apparently extremely noxious.
Seriously. High. As. Kites.
I don’t really want to talk about it.
But I probably will tomorrow.
So instead, I’ve spent the morning reminiscing on the past and going through still more photos from our trip to Spain.
While the first part of our trip was spent in the mainland’s coastal city of Malaga, we also traveled to the Balearic islands of Ibiza and Formentera. Ibiza is typically known as a “party island” around much of Europe, famous for its wild nightclubs and even the occasional water party, a couple of phenomenons we experienced for ourselves while staying in the west-coast town of Sant Antoni. Hell. Music was timed to the sunsets.
But we also discovered another side to life on Ibiza. Quiet beaches, scenic drives, the memory of paella that will feed me for a lifetime, and the southeastern historic city of Eivissa, also known as Ibiza Town.
We caught a precious glimpse of the ancient walled city on our ferry to Formentera, but I was eager to explore more of it upon our return to Ibiza.
And that, we did.
You see, Brad, my sister-in-law Becca’s boyfriend, has this travel theory. He says whenever you visit a new place, you should always — always — climb, ride, hike, or fly to the highest point.
Not only does it help you understand the lay of the land, but the views are usually worth it.
We’d followed his advice in Formentera and though my thigh muscles paid dearly, we thanked him for the cliffside Pringles and PB&J picnic in the end.
So when he suggested we climb Dalt Vila, the fortified city on top of the city, we agreed. Another questionable piece of travel wisdom to which our group subscribed was that whenever you embark on a walking tour, you should just go. Don’t think about it. Don’t consult a map. Just go.
So we saw the mountain, and we began to climb. Thus began our walking tour of Eivissa.
View from our hostel.
Stolen moment between Brad and Becca while Justin tries to figure out the ATM.
We started off in good spirits…
…but then came the stairs.
Let’s just say that a walking tour of Ibiza Town is not for the physically disabled.
Or the physically-abled, like Justin and myself, who’d had a few too many tapas so far on the trip, ifyouknowwhatI’msayin’.
But eventually, we made it to the top.
Sprawling views of the city and harbor on one side…
And breathtaking views of the Mediterranean on the other.
Since we climbed along the seaside edge on the way up, we headed back down in the direction of the city.
The sun-bleached buildings and crumbling stone alleyways breathed history and life and beauty.
We explored tiny shops and hidden pathways and I imagined waking up mornings and reading in my favorite cafe or hanging my laundry to dry outside one of the colorful windows.
We emerged bass-ackwards from the massive front gate.
And found ourselves a quiet cafe.
Sitting there, eating, drinking, talking, reflecting, I could see — quite easily — why people come to this city and simply never leave.
Our hostel owner didn’t.
View from our hostel window.
The man who served us this sangria didn’t.
And I didn’t want to, either.
In fact, I think sometimes, when I’m avoiding work or laundry or bathroom renovations…
Maybe I’m still there.
Eeeeek these pictures are SO beautiful and now I’m REALLY dying to return!!! I love that you’re rocking the LBD. We’re so alike!
Ha, I know! Me too! There’s so much more of that island to explore… And I love that LBD. I’ve had that since my wedding rehearsal dinner and still find myself frequently pulling it out of the closet all these years later! Now I just need to get better at accessorizing. ;)
Buenos Noches Señora!! Que tal?! Me encanta IBIZA!! And living in Michigan my whole life, I very, very rarely run into anyone at all who’s been to this beautiful paradise, walked up and up and up the old town steps (or worse yet, who doesn’t think of it as a wild MTV destination.)
My husband is Spanish and his family has lived in the little town of Jesus, Ibiza since…….wow, let’s just say there were farmers dressed in black, vast windy fields filled with twisting olive trees and ages old white stone houses … no hip deejays spinning discs of thumping rhythms or topless northern Europeans on the beach!! His mother tells me that when my father in law first brought her there in the late 40s from Barcelona they didn’t have power or running water; he failed to mention that part of their new venture. She wanted to swim back to the mainland as fast as possible! But they built a little home in town and, over the years, my father in law, my husband, my sister in law, etc built a sprawling, rustic traditional Spanish home in the hilly area town of San Lorenzo, and they have never left. The wind just whistles through the ancient olive branches up there. I am eternally grateful to them for following a dream as we get to travel there once a year to visit for a few weeks and I get lost in my own dreams. You are so right: some people just never leave, maybe some day it will be me. Your photos are SO familiar to me, incredible. The vino, the queso, the smells, the wind, the vino, the vino…!!! Did you make it to San Gertrudis ? I could move there in an instant. Thanks for sharing your adventure with us, I hope you’re able to return some day. Let me know if you do!
Oh, the envy. It’s palpable. You travel there once a year? Really?
I LOVE the story of your father-in-law dragging your husband’s mother to a secluded island with no power or water and the fact that she made it work! My husband dragged me to south Georgia 10 years ago (where we definitely had power and water, with the exception of a day or two during one of the big hurricanes of 2005), and that was bad enough! Oh, the things we do for love.
Your description is so lovely – I think you should write the story of your in-laws. I would be among the first to read it. :)
I don’t believe we went to San Gertrudis, but It’s been over a year now and it’s difficult to remember where we traveled. I wasn’t in charge of the map or itinerary – just along for the ride! We did drive around a bit – I think we made it to San Josep? I HAVE to ask you: Are you even the slightest bit familiar with the restaurant I wrote about in this post: http://www.domestiphobia.net/2012/12/21/there-is-a-cure-but-its-not-going-to-be-easy/ ?
It would be fantastic to put a restaurant or owner name to that incredible dish, but I cannot, for the life of me, remember even where we were that day, let alone the name of the restaurant (if, in fact, it even had one). I know it’s a long shot, but I thought maybe it might look familiar to you.
You can BET I will let you know when I return. I’m hoping it will be sooner rather than later!
Awesome pictures looks like an amazing place to visit
It is, it IS! You should buy yourself a ticket and just go. It’s phenomenal. :)
Just read the Ibiza restaurant post! It looks very familiar but couldn’t put a name to it even if threatened with no more tortilla espanol ever (the horror! make it at least once a week) There are so many of those small, beautiful little bays and beaches… Playa this Playa that… and I would have to use my dear husband’s brain with a memory bank for details like restaurant names or my sister in law who at 46 still tools around on her motor bike and has spent her entire life there. A true Ibicenco.
My mother in law also thinks no restaurant can cook as well or as healthy as she can. She still grows many of her fruits and veggies in her yard, the fig tree is unbelievable and just my photo of those huge leaves is enough to make me swoon.
She walks every day to the little market if she needs anything, and no s#%t, she has used the same wooden spoons for decades. I finally pilfered one, it’s precious, just patina-ed with love. It has a hole worn in the bowl of it!
Being a writer, (and such a wonderful talent you are; its such natural prose you put in your blog)… you would for sure love the stories behind this family!!! Quick details, as this ain’t my blog for goodness sake!!!: Father in law French, escaped from Nazi round up for inscription in city school yard … off to the French merchant marines, watched the sinking of the French navy to avoid the nazis taking it, went on to be a really skilled acrobat , (on Ed Sullivan many many times!) & traveled the world. Settled in Ibiza with a new wife and started a really new kind of place for the time he did it: wholistic health, acupuncture, massage therapy, aerobic exercise gym center. Built his little house and gym in Jesus where they lived but also his other true love: his house in the hills of San Lorenzo. Was a self taught artist who also spoke French, Catalan, Ibicenco, Spanish, English & Russian. He & my mother in law spoke French (language of love) to each other, Spanish to my husband and his sister and a mix of English Spanish and French all in one confusing sentence to me. Phew!! That’s a lot if info for a posted comment and I haven’t even mentioned my mother in law standing up to the Franco army as a child to protect her father, an ex husband who took her son to another country because divorce illegal…. gosh, sorry for hijacking this it’s hard to stop. Let me know for sure if you go again, she rents her multiple bedroom house in the hills … and if you ever want a tortilla espanol with some manchego, melon and Serrano ham – look me up in Michigan !!
Ha, don’t worry! I knew it was a long shot and a pretty big island! I wouldn’t expect you to remember *every* restaurant on it – especially when you usually stay with family.
Oh my, I WANT one of your mother-in-law’s spoons, too! Those are the best kind. My mom used to have a nice, blackened one but I think it was lost in one of her moves. I regret not snagging it. :\ Guess I’ll have to create my own patina! :)
Now I definitely want to stay at their place in Ibiza. Your inlaws sound incredible!! If you have already written these stories down, feel free to email them to me – sounds like a great read! Maybe I could create a book out of them. ;) I’m not sure when I’ll make it to Michigan, but if you come to NC, you can definitely make me a tortilla espanol!
[…] Formentera’s understated, makeup-free existence is easy to overlook next to Ibiza’s array of spectacular restaurants, unique shops, and world renowned nightlife. With not even an airport marring its ancient surface, Formentera […]