Winter in Ibiza - Southside Beach-Hopping

Having checked out a majority of the north the day before, Sunday we reserved for exploring what the southern half of the island had to offer. In the pre-trip research we learned the south was known for its numerous and beautiful beaches. The sun was shining and the sky was clear so we just started driving south and took the very first road towards a beach. The map we had been given was rather rudimentary and did not include precise directions to towns or beaches, rather an approximate representation of where certain towns were located. This being the case we started off sans plan, and figured we would just go with the flow. The tank of the car was full so if a road looked interesting we would follow.

As in France, most places on the island were closed (more so than usual) because it was Sunday. It seemed that gave locals more opportunities to get out and enjoy their surroundings. This was evident by many more cars on the road, and more of the beaches occupied by families spending time together having picnics or fishing. The first beach we stumbled upon, Cala Bassa, was the closest south of Sant Antoni. It was the biggest beach we had come across yet, and it was definitely a major tourist stop during the summer. The actual sand was flanked on both sides by rocky outcroppings that some local families had posted up on with their fishing poles to relax in the sun and hopefully catch some lunch. There were also several signs advertising lounge and umbrella rentals, but being the offseason the only things laid out on the sand were twigs and leaves blown over from the forested area behind the beach. The water was crystal clear, and warmer than you would expect for being the middle of winter.

The next stop on our beach tour was Cala Corral about 15-20min farther south. It was a little more secluded and really a combination of two or three different beaches separated by natural sandstone cliff walls. This gave a better feeling of isolation even though there were a few more couples here. It also provided a wind barrier so you could soak up the sun without getting chilled by gusts blowing in off the Mediterranean. There were also a few restaurant/bars built up along the edge of the beach and water, but they were totally abandoned and offered a great lookout point. We decided to return later that evening to this same beach to watch the sunset thanks to the fact that it had an unobstructed view due west of the island.

The signs we had been following all along were directing us towards Cala Tarida, and after these two slight detours we finally made it to our originally planned destination. Cala Tarida was one of the biggest beaches on the island, and this was apparent when we got a good view it from the cliffs overlooking the city. This beach was totally surrounded by hotels (both standing and under construction) and restaurants, but they were also closed for the winter. Like the rest of the island, Cala Tarida was a ghost-town that obviously exploded with visitors in the summer. Instead of hiking down to the main beach we went off the beaten path and walked along the massive cliffs that lined the bay. It gave an unbelievable panoramic view of beaches, cliffs and the sparkling sea, and eventually led us to the edge of a rather hidden cove at the bottom of a cliff about 100ft. high. With a little bit of effort and some sure footing we could have made it down to the bottom, but without being able to actually go in the water it seemed like a waste of time. So instead we found a good spot to dangle our legs over the edge and warm up on the rocks while discussing options for lunch.

The next “larger” city of Cala Vadella was a short drive away so we decided to check out the beach and town to try and find some fresh fish for lunch. The drive took us up and down the cliffs along the coast until we pulled into Cala Vadella. On our map it looked like one of the bigger towns on the southern half of the island when in reality I probably could have hit a golf ball from one side to the other clear over the entire town (and that’s taking my slice into account too). We parked the car on the side of the road (just out of the way not in a spot or anything because that’s how Europeans do it) and began walking along the beach. We weren’t expecting much based on the level of activity in the area, but there were two restaurants that had just opened up for the lunch hour; it was about 2pm. We chose the one that had seating available just off the sand, and would allow us to eat in the sun. Of course soon after we sat down the first real clouds of the trip rolled in. It was still warm and the clouds weren’t dark so there was nothing to complain about.

After our incredible meal of seafood from the day before both of us were in the mood for some more fresh fish. We asked the server what they had and he told us about three or four different fish that had just been brought in a few hours ago from local fisherman. Perfect. The only problem was that he only knew the Spanish names for the fish so we asked if there was one in particular that stood out as the best. In true European fashion he shied away from giving us a direct answer, and said it all depended on what our taste and personal preference was. We told him we love everything so he recommended one that we eventually found out was grouper. They started us out with more bread, olives and a homemade garlic butter spread that was difficult not to fill up on. Next they brought out fresh rolled sushi for an entrée as a compliment of the house. Until that point we were having a nice quiet and relaxing meal. There was only one other family at the whole restaurant with us, and they were Spanish with a new puppy that occupied most of their time.

Just before our main course was brought out, all of a sudden a British family of about fifteen or more people rolled into town. We could hear them laughing and shouting from around the corner (one thing we’ve learned from the family we’re living with is Brit’s don’t have much respect for their volume around others), and just as we had feared they flopped down at a table on the other side of the terrace. Here we are on a practically deserted island, in a town with but one road running through it, and somehow they found us. I guess it was just a taste of what the island is like in the summer when the rest of Europe (mainly England) invades.

We did our best to ignore the ruckus being made on the other side of the restaurant, and that was made much easier once our food was delivered. The fish was cut into four pieces and each of us was given a part from the top half and a part from the tail half. It was covered in a balsamic wine reduction sauce and accompanied with a mélange of potatoes, onions and peppers all sautéed together, and some roasted zucchini. Had it not been for our amazing lunch the day before this would have topped the list of meals we’ve had in Europe during our five months here. The only thing I regret is not getting the name of the restaurant, however given the size of Cala Vadella it would be impossible to miss should we ever find time (and funds) for a return trip.

Following lunch we were once again in the mood for a late afternoon siesta to help energize for the evening. We drove back to the hotel following the main roads this time rather than taking the more scenic route along the coast, and made it back in half the time. No matter where you are on the island it will never take more than 30min of driving to get where you want to go (that is depending on your own driving and navigation skills).

That evening after getting cleaned up and Kathryn taking a siesta, we drove back over to Cala Corral for the sunset. It seemed we had made the right choice as to which beach was best because there were already about three or four other cars parked waiting for the sun to begin going down. Unfortunately the clouds from earlier in the day had only partially cleared so we were left with a slightly worse show than the night before, but by no means disappointed. Once the sun had gone below the horizon it turned the sky and clouds a magnificent hazy magenta that was totally unexpected.

The rest of the night was spent walking the beach near our hotel and looking for a restaurant to stop in for tapas. The first place we came to looked very promising with a wide array of dishes posted outside. However, as we were approaching the dining area we noticed a portly Spanish lady holding a microphone then all of a sudden she belted out: “This is grrrround contrrrrol to majorrr Tom!!” (Imagine the “r’s” being rolled in a Spanish sort of way). We just turned and walked the other direction. Eventually we settled on the place we had eaten paella at the other day. They had an assortment of tapas that seemed light enough seeing as lunch was still fresh in our minds (and stomachs). They brought out four little tapas plates that we ate (and finished), but didn’t ask what they were until the meal was over and we were ready to leave. The first was like a fancy tuna salad, the second was warm, cut up octopus with an interesting vinegar sauce poured over the top, the third was some chorizo and tripe, and fourth was described to us as “hands of pig.” Well we said we’re always up for trying new things. The meal was memorable to say the least. I’m not saying the dishes were terrible or inedible, just not something we would order a second time.

Hasta luego

-Jordan and Kathryn

Winter in Ibiza - Exploring the North

Before we ever left for our vacation Kathryn and I had discussed the possibility of renting a car (depending on prices) to have a better opportunity to explore the little island, and after the recommendation of our server it was a necessity. We figured Saturday would be perfect because we could have the car for the weekend. There was a little flyer for rent-a-cars at the front desk of the hotel and after breakfast we inquired with one of the hotel staff about how to go about renting one. The woman at first didn’t understand what we were asking, but when we pointed to the sign she said (in a rather matter-of-fact voice) that they were closed because it was Saturday. I mean what good business that specializes in tourism amenities closes down for the weekend? At first we were slightly discouraged and worried that we may have missed our chance to go exploring, but the woman seemed to recognize our trepidation and told us about a couple different companies within walking distance that most likely were open.


With our hope renewed we walked not two blocks down the road when we came upon another rent-a-car place with a very charismatic and helpful attendant. He hooked us up with a very affordable little European-style mini Chevrolet, and provided a map. Next he suggested that we check out the north of the island the first day (then drew out a convenient route to take us past the most interesting towns/beaches), and see the southern half the next. It sounded like a good plan so we hopped in the car (started off nice and slow so I could get the feel of driving stick-shift again since it had been a good two years) and took off north partially following the path we walked the previous day towards Santa Agnès.

We had planned on stopping in Santa Agnès but it was such a small town with nothing more than a church, and the weather was so warm and the countryside was so beautiful that we just kept on driving. The road twisted and turned first through some farming communities where we saw old Spanish couples walking through rows of olive trees carrying chainsaws and pruning their crop. The trees were just starting to bloom, and they were covered with tiny whitish-pink flowers. Next the road narrowed and we began climbing in elevation up into the more “mountainous” central region of the island (I use quotes because for someone coming from the Midwest they were mountains, but someone from say Oregon may not see them the same).

The first stop on our trans-island journey took us to the town of Sant Miguel de Balansat. It was the first town we passed that had a “main” street, and more than one restaurant/bar. Unfortunately our reason for stopping was less than ideal. When traveling by airplane recently it has become common for Kathryn to get sick, and this time was no different. She contracted a flu-like virus from the flight over so we stopped to find a “Farmacia” to stock up on aspirin and throat lozenges. Luckily as bad as she felt, just being in such an idyllic setting with warm sun beaming down constantly gave her the strength to power through the illness, and she never let it slow her down (well that and at least an hour or so siesta each day).

Once Kathryn was sufficiently medicated we got back in the car and followed the signs down towards the coast and the Port de Sant Miguel. One of the best parts of our excursion was the feeling of isolation, and that we had the whole island almost entirely to ourselves. When we got to the port the surrounding town was totally deserted save for one tiny bar/café right off the sand. There was also an elderly gentleman combing the beach with a metal detector. After basking in the sun for a few minutes we discovered a small trail leading around the edge of the water that then went up the hill and along the cliffs that lined the bay. We followed it for about five minutes or so before it opened up into a very secluded second beach that was surrounded by miniature boat houses. There was also a large concrete slab about 100ft. from the water that in the summer appeared to be built up into a bar to cater to all the tourists.

Leaving the Port de Sant Miguel we headed to the most northern point of the island and a town called Portinatx. This town, like most of the others we came upon, was all but deserted. After pulling multiple u-turns and one wrong turn down a one-way street we found a decent parking spot, and walked down to the water. The beach once again looked like a major tourist destination in the summer months ringed with bars, hotels and restaurants, but at this time there wasn’t another soul in sight. While relaxing in the sun on the beach we noticed a very faint stone lookout structure in the distance, and decided that even though it looked relatively far away we could probably hike to it. So we crossed the beach and began walking in the general direction of the tower (if you look very closely in the picture you can see it on top of the hill). The path we chose took us through some closed down resorts and along some cliffs overlooking the water, and after about 45min the structure finally came into full view. There were no identifiable markings or plaques explaining the history so I can’t tell you the exact purpose for it, but based on the location (and the fact that we saw about five or six others around the island as we were exploring) leads me to believe it was an old sentry/lookout tower strategically positioned to observe and guard the island from invaders. Unfortunately the exits were sealed so we couldn’t climb inside and see the view from the top.

By this time we were starting to get rather famished. We thought back to the meal we had the day before of paella as well as the recommendation from our server. He had mentioned that the restaurant we needed to try was also on the northern part of the island, but he also told us that it gets so busy you need to call ahead for a reservation. Since technically it was in the same direction we were going to get back to the hotel we figured it couldn’t hurt to swing by and check to see if they had a table available (if so great, if not we would just make a reservation for the following day and come back).

The name of the restaurant was Restaurante Pou d’es Lleó and it was in the town of the same name. The town itself we never saw, but by following the well marked signs we made it to the restaurant in about 15minutes. By the time we arrived lunch was just getting started (it was 1:45pm) and they had a number of tables open. The first lady we asked for help spoke no English, and she called over a gentleman who knew enough to tell us where to sit. The first encouraging sign was that all the customers there were Spanish; the second was the size of the menu. They had three different options, either paella, grilled fish or a type of Spanish fish stew. If a restaurant’s menu is that small it means they have perfected their craft, and you cannot go wrong with whatever you decide to order. Our choice had been made for us by the server who recommended the place. Underneath the name of the restaurant that he had given us he had written “Bullit de Peix” so of course that’s what we got.

While waiting for our food they first brought out some baguette with a garlic butter spread and a small bowl of Spanish olives. It was so good I had to remind Kathryn (and myself) not to fill up on bread before the actual meal arrived. Next for our first course came a fish soup, but this was not your ordinary run of the mill fish soup. This was a bowl filled with Spanish risotto rice, covered in a thick but not too creamy fish soup that was filled with bits of octopus, mussels and was garnished with crab legs. It was the best soup I have ever eaten, better than New England clam chowder, better than South Carolina she-crab soup, just unbelievable, and it was only the first course. For the main dish they brought out a platter of different fish boiled in a special sauce of Spanish seasonings, and laid over a bed of potatoes also drenched in the amazing sauce. The fish was perfectly cooked, fell apart off the bones and melted in your mouth. Even having already gorged on everything that had been brought before it (and Kathryn exclaiming she was full following the soup) we polished off the entire tray. As I watched Kathryn picked through the discarded bones that were left over making sure every possible scrap of fish had been eaten I was overcome by a feeling of disappointment. This was without a doubt the best meal I have eaten in Europe, and even though I had eaten to the bursting point, I was disappointed that it was over. Then when the waitress came back to clear our plates she uttered some of the most beautiful words I have ever heard: “Poquito mas?” What we hadn’t realized was the meal was all-you-can-eat, and after about a minute of waiting she brought out an entire new tray of fish. Kathryn was full but I finished it all until I couldn’t imagine eating another bite. It was heaven, and if someone local ever recommends a restaurant again I will fall over myself to get there as fast as possible.

Once we regained the ability to walk after such an amazing lunch we drove back across the island to our hotel for a much needed siesta. Kathryn was still fighting off her flu so we spent about an hour or so relaxing in our room until the sun started to go down. At that point we both rushed to get dressed and make it down the street to the bay to watch the sunset. Being a little groggy and still quite full from our lunch we made it just in time as the sun was starting to go beneath the horizon. Up to that point the sky had been virtually cloudless all day, but it seemed at just the right time a few tiny clouds blew overhead at the perfect moment to be turned vibrant shades of red, orange and pink by the descending sun.

As the day before we rounded out the evening with cerveza’s at the hotel bar. The north of the island had a character totally its own, and while it did have beautiful beaches it was very rural and mountainous. Sunday we planned to hit the southern region of the island which is known for having more numerous beaches. While at the bar we did a little chatting with the bartender because we were in there rather early and no one else had wandered in for dinner yet. He was an elderly guy, and we talked about everything from U.S. and European politics and the healthcare systems, to the fact that his son is studying marine biology in Valencia Spain, and his daughter is 30 and still living at home with him and his wife. He was a really nice guy, and in the course of our conversation he mentioned a little bar he recommended for us to try in a town that is just about dead center of the island. So you know what that means.

Hasta mañana,

-Jordan and Kathryn

Winter on the Island of Ibiza

Yesterday we returned to cold and snowy Lille France from 6days/5nights on the island of Ibiza (which is just off the south-eastern coast of Spain) where the temp stayed in the mid 60's all week and the sun was shining all but one day. We flew with Ryanair from London-Stanstead airport directly to Ibiza for 4pounds each way. We had five and a half glorious days in Ibiza, and one frighteningly disastrous night in London that all contributed to this totally unforgettable trip. One sign of an amazing vacation is a feeling of overwhelming need to return, and by lunch time of our first day we could not stop talking about two things: when we'll be able to come back, and a need to learn Spanish (we had a very basic understand of the language thanks to what had been picked up from the kitchen staff at the restaurants we used to work at, and from Taco Bell commercials). Every day brought different adventures, scenery and cuisine, and it is for these reasons that I am breaking up this trip into five or so different blog entries.


Our first major task was getting to the airport in London, and I know how boring it can be reading about the actual travelling parts so I just want to offer one piece of advice then move on. If you ever have to go to England/London, no matter what the reason, make sure to do your due diligence, and plan out each detail well in advance, or the city will absolutely devour your wallet.

Our plane touched down in Ibiza just after 9pm local time, and we carried our bags onto the plane (to check them would have cost 3x what we paid for the flight) so it didn't take long before we were in a cab headed towards our hotel. The place we stayed at was in the second biggest city (which isn't saying much) of Sant Antoni de Portmany located on the western side of the island. We stayed at Hotel Puchet (Putxet) which was only about two blocks away from the beach and marina. It was a decent sized hotel and our room was clean and comfortable, but we didn't plan on spending much time there anyway. Something that did stand out about the hotel, and really everywhere on the island, was the geniality and kindness from everyone we encountered.

The trip started off with a lot of intrigue and anticipation. Neither Kathryn nor I really knew what to expect. Ibiza is internationally recognized as the party capital of Europe for about six months of the year, and February is not one of those months. Winter in Ibiza was described to us as a time when the locals take back the island. Approximately 75-80% of all the restaurants, bars, shops and hotels had closed their doors for the off-season which gave the island a very peaceful and calm ambiance; something that is unheard of once the weather reaches the mid 70's. Driving in the pitch black of night from the airport to the hotel did not ease our minds. We were still very excited to get our first real views of the island so once we dropped our bags off in the room we went out to explore what little of the area we could before crashing (wearing only light sweatshirts because it was still in the mid/low 50's). The hotel, being so close to the water, we quickly found a boardwalk that ran along the bay. We followed it all the way around until we got to the marina, and that was about the time Kathryn started getting cold so we turned back towards the hotel to call it a night.

Breakfast was included in the price of our hotel room so we got up nice and early to ensure we didn't miss out. It was slightly confusing at first because we were expecting some kind of buffet set out like is customary in many European hotels, but instead there was just an instant coffee and juice machine. So we got our drinks and sat down. Soon a server came over, and after we kindly explained "no hable Español" he preceded to list off the breakfast options in broken English. We settled on simple bacon and eggs on baguette toast, and after a few cups of coffee we were out the door ready to get our first glimpse of the island.

Having an idea of what the harbor/bay looked like at night we figured the boardwalk would be a great place to begin our morning urban-hike. Even though it was only about 9am there was no real need for a jacket, and after an hour of walking the clouds were blown away and we were blessed with warm sunlight for the rest of the day. Once we had rounded the bay the path began weaving its way around the coast and past some of the closed and barred hotels that lined the waterfront. We walked along the water until the pavement ended, and then turned up into the hills, and began following signs in the direction of Santa Agnès. This took us up through some sparse residential homes surrounded by open fields and rows of olive trees until we stood at a round-a-bout overlooking Sant Antoni.

By this time we had already hiked a good couple miles so we turned back down into the city and headed towards the hotel to change clothes (it had reached the mid 60's before noon). During our descent we passed the famous "Egg" statue of Sant Antoni that sits in the middle of one of the intersections. It wasn't anything too spectacular, but I had read about it on a couple of websites before we came here so it was an interesting landmark. As we were walking back through the city signs of the islands infamous party scene were evident everywhere. There were flyers and posters in the windows of almost every shop or business, or plastered on the walls of buildings at busy intersections; massive billboards rested on the sides of the road advertising special deals/promotions, or celebrity DJ's that regularly headlined a club. We tried not to take much notice since all the clubs were closed for the winter anyway.

After shedding a couple layers back at the hotel we ventured out to try and find a restaurant open for lunch. The street our hotel was on, as well as the boardwalk, was lined with dozens of bars and restaurants, but they were all closed for winter. After about a half hour or so we stumbled upon a nice little place called Restaurant Koppas that was open, and had an outdoor seating area so we could have lunch in the sun. Our table looked out onto a sun-drenched plaza, and a boulevard lined with tall palm trees which ran along the marina. They had a pretty extensive menu (translated into English), but one dish in particular stood out: the paella. It took about 45min to an hour of preparation so we ordered a couple cerveza’s, and Kathryn got a tomato salad, and we passed the time enjoying the warmth of the sun, and the relaxing feeling of being on vacation. We also chatted a bit with our server who spoke almost perfect English. He asked if it was our first visit to the island, and if we were Canadian (I guess they don't get too many Americans). We said yes (not to the Canadian bit) and asked if he recommended anything for us to do or see while we were there. His first piece of advice was to rent a car so that we could experience the entire island, and second he gave us the name of a restaurant on the northern side of the island where we could get great fresh fish. He finished his recommendation by sticking out his belly, rubbing it and saying “trust me.” (Another tip: if someone local ever recommends doing or eating anything, do it!)

When the food finally came it was brought out in a big paella/wok looking dish overflowing with rice and seafood. Just thinking back on it makes my mouth water. It was the very best paella either of us has ever eaten. The rice was done perfectly and slathered in butter and Spanish seasonings. It was also filled with all different types of seafood including prawns, crab legs and claws, mussels, clams, squid, and then topped off with some tender pieces of chicken. There was so much food we couldn’t imagine finishing it all, but with a little determination (and two very large helpings a piece) we polished off the entire bowl. We finished lunch just before 5pm, and then it was time to head back to the hotel for a siesta. Lunch was so big and delicious that we crossed dinner off our itinerary for the evening.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing. We took a little nap back at the hotel, and then went for a stroll along the water to walk off a bit of the weight we gained at lunch. On our way back we stopped in the hotel bar for a couple drinks to wind out the night, and to plan out a tentative schedule for Saturday. Day one couldn’t have been a better introduction to life on the island or Spanish culture. We were already dreading the fact that we had to leave in five days, but did our best to keep that out of our minds.

Hasta mañana,
 
-Jordan and Kathryn

Unusual Similarities

The character and uniqueness of Lille France can be seen in its architecture, food, and ch'ti accent. However, as Kathryn discovered yesterday Lille shares one very unusual characteristic with a surprising number of cities and towns that I have lived in. Something that has reared it's ugly head in the National Gardens of Athens Greece, had articles written about in the Eugene Daily Emerald, and now has surfaced while riding the Metro home from work in Lille. It has become unavoidable. What I am talking about here is public indecent exposure coupled with inappropriate self...well...lets just say, manipulation.

While Kathryn was riding the Metro home from work yesterday she got a very unexpected and unwelcomed show from a gentleman sitting directly across the car from her. To better illustrate how this happened first let me describe the normal Lille Metro car. It is rather simple; seats on one side, and a half-bench to lean against directly opposite. Kathryn was leaning, minding her own business listening to her Ipod when she casually noticed the man seated across from her. He was of stocky build wearing a suit, tie and glasses, and he was seated between an old lady and a very skinny guy. The only reason she noticed him was that he kept staring at her.

In the blink of an eye and with no warning at all the man relaxed his posture, and let his "business" hang out for the entire Metro car to see. Unfortunately the French are quite self-conscious when bunched together on public transportation, and they usually just stare at the ground or do everything possible to not make eye contact with a single other person while in transit. That being the case it appeared no one else noticed. Not wanting to risk some kind of attack or really any interaction with the crazy person at all, Kathryn pushed her way through other passengers (yes the Metro was packed) to the door. Luckily as she did so the train pulled up to Gare Lille-Flanders, and she was able to flee to safety. It was quite traumatic.

After returning home she relayed the story to Fiona (the woman who owns the house we are living in). Now she is a very nice woman, but at the same time has some unusual tendancies of her own like performing unnecessarily loud home improvement projects in the middle of the night, or vacuuming the small area just outside our room for hours at a time starting at 7am on weekends. So had we not been living with her for these past four months her reaction may have seemed a bit bizarre. She said, "Oh, well, I mean, yes it happens, but they're not dangerous at all. There have been reports about various men doing it for a while now, and Transpole (the transportation authority) can't really do anything about it." Not shocked or surprised or anything, and her son's response was to go on the defensive, "Well, it's not just Lille, every city has people like that." So judging by their reactions apparently this is not as uncommon as we think, and from now on we'll be wary of large men in suits ,wearing glasses on the Metro.

Tomorrow we leave for Ibiza for the first six days of our February vacation. We'll be back on the 10th.

A bientôt,

Jordan and Kathryn