alex311279
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**** that moody sentimental ****, let’s get down to the nitty gritty. It was awesome I am going to detail every single ****ing second of it. If you’ve stumbled across this in search of information then look at my honest and most humble opinion and decide how much you trust my judgement. Am I like you? Are we compatible people? You decide.
Okey dokey, let’s get started then… This is an x-rated review, if you don’t like swearing you can **** the **** off.
Two years ago we stayed at the Jet Apartments, Ideal location for the Über-clubber. That’s not really me these days. Bit too quiet for non-club nights i.e. **** bars and **** restaurants. In search of that missing something to do at night last year we stayed at the Hotel Bahia, in San An Bay. Closer to what we were after but the Hotel clientele just weren’t for me. So our requirements as a mid-twenties couple, that are into clubbing, but not as much as we used to be, have a taste for eating out and a penchant for a quieter relaxing time were to find a location close to Ibiza town, not in Playa D’en Bossa and not surrounded by your typical 18-30’s reveller crowd. We decided that Figueretes or Talamanca would be the ideal locations. But I am a creature of habit (this will playa role repeatedly through this recollection) and having had my holiday time slashed by inconsiderate airlines in the past, well once actually, (but that once was enough for me to never want to book separate flights and accommodation again) I trawled the internet in search of the ideal package holiday. I found only one tour operator with one hotel in Figuretes, Thomson offering up the formidable Mira-Mola Apartments. Research into these shone an unfavourable light all over there gaudy décor and so we gave them a wide berth. With no available options left we plumped for the family orientated hotel the Sirenis Jabeque advertised in the brochures as being in Playa d’en Bossa. Further research showed that the Jabeque is actually in an area called Es Vive, North of PDB and just south of Figuretes . Sweet. Just a year to wait for this mother-****er of a holiday to arrive.
Sunday 6th Aug
Awoooga. Awooga. No! That isn’t the sound of John Fashanu in mid-nineties hit action game show , Gladiators celebrating a bad-ass take down by steroid ridden muscle man, Shadow. It’s actually the closest I can come to describing the sound of my alarm clock. I ****ing hate it, it signals the start of every working day but not today. This will be the last time I am hearing this ****er for at least two weeks. It’s 4:30 AM in 2 hours I plan to be drinking hard alcohol In Manchester Airport before jetting off to the White Bastard Ibiza ****ing Island. The drive there is smooth but a couple of queues at check-in and passport control means we, that is, Michelle, my fiancé and I, hit the lounge pretty late. £17 buys you as much booze as you can stick away in that time and the comfort of a moment’s peace and quiet in the middle of a bustling terminal. In our short time there I manage a few swift vodka and bitter lemons, a definite taste of Pacha.
The call comes for boarding and we head to our gate, over the past few years this is where we’ve first come into contact with our “like-minded” revelling travel companion, such as the guy with the positive record label tattoo on his head, the gigantically obese couple dressed in academic gowns and various well gelled boys in number tee-shirts with matching stupid nicknames, a particularly skinny boy called “The Groom” springs to mind. This year was different, the gate was surrounded by families of all ages ready to make on their jollies. However a trip to Ibiza wouldn’t be right without something odd at the gate. Opposite our gate is a flight heading to Zurich. A family of orthodox Jews are going that way. They make their way off around the corner to wait in a quieter area. Five minutes later another Orthodox Jew heads toward the gate looking slightly lost. A kind Christian sees the problem and so directs the older Jew to his to his missing family. Oh dear these Jews don’t know each other, you’ve made the racist mistake of assuming they must be the same family just because they all practice the same religion. An easy mistake to make really I suppose but this feller felt a twat, I had seen it all and was feeding of his embarrassment and obvious discomfort when he realised his mistake.
We get on the plane it’s a 757, biggest I’ve ever been on, awesome. It’s a Sunny day and a combination of JD and coke and Kronenberg make the flight time literally fly by. The clear skies make for some spectacular views and before we know it we’re taxiing along the runway of Ibiza airport. The door opens. I step into the bright light the heat hits me, but that is not the only assault on my senses. A smell of **** blasts deep into my nostrils. It’s good to be back. Actually part of that is lie. It was cloudy, but it did stink of ****. Onto baggage reclamation, which is painfully slow and then to Hiper Rent-a-car.
Hiperrentacar.com, hiper rent a car, car hire
This was to be the third year we have planned to have a car. It’s an absolute must for me now, I wouldn’t go to Ibiza without one. That is the impact it has on my holidays. The first year we used Carjet.com and ended up being supplied by Hiper. The service was ideal, cheap, no excess, pretty efficient in the office etc etc. Last year through Carjet we were to be supplied by Centauro. Carjet’s advertised nil excess wasn’t provided and ended up losing money through a small prang. Carjet became a faceless, in-contactable business as I tried to get my excess back so this year we searched for a new broker. Amigoautos.com were comparable in price and offered nil excess. I was weary though as not a penny was to be paid until pick up. What if I got there and Hiper were not expecting me. It would have ruined my holiday, but rest assured 20 minutes after walking into the office I was driving away in a Fiat Panda 4x4. The total cost for 2 weeks is £[/]220 + a refundable deposit of £40 for fuel.
The key to driving in Ibiza for me, I believe, is to get the smallest vehicle possible. Gaps are small, roads are narrow and parking spaces are tiny, the smaller your car is the more chance you have of NOT having some type of bang. The Panda is ideal and I am sure there wasn’t this many last year but this summer there were swarms of them heading all over the island.
The Sirenis Jabeque
Would I stay here again? That’s the best way I can think to rate this hotel. The answer is a resounding yes, here’s why…
We settle into the room and by the time we are unpacked it has brightened up and has turned into a very hot day, it’s 3pm so we decide to head down to the pool and chill out for a few hours prior to Space.
Ca Na Ribes
Evening approached and there was no sign of contact from our friends that were already at Space, so we decided to go late as we prefer, and that it’d be nice to go after a good meal, so we head to Santa Eulalia and one of our favourite restaurants, Ca Na Ribes.
Last year we ate here twice, the service was excellent and the food hearty and tasty. Unfortunately this year’s visit wasn’t up to scratch. For starters we both opted for the battered squid. When it came I was shock at the size of the portion, there was probably enough for 6 people in these 2 bowls and being over-cooked meant that chewing fast became a chore. The service which had been attentive and friendly last year was again warm but practically non-existent. I think due to the location of our table hidden behind a small shrub. The main courses arrived, eventually, the daunting filling before we had even taken our first bite. I opted for my favourite roast lamb leg, which is excellent. Roasted with a herb crust and sweet tomatoes until the meat falls off the bone but after a sustained effort there was hardly an impact made in this huge cut of meat. Michelle opted for the Cod au Gratin; 2 huge cod steaks which a creamy cheese sauce. The second steak was unnecessary Gordon Ramsey would have a Kitchen Nightmare if he saw the huge portions these guys give and by the end of the meal they had killed off any chance of dessert or coffee. But it’s not the food that let this visit down it was the repeated slow service, I asked for the bill twice, I eventually had to go and get it, then there was a 10 minute wait where no-one came and so I took the money to the manageress. Our 2 courses with a jug of sangria set us back €70.
Go here for a romantic, homely setting and huge portions of rustic, tasty food.
We Love Sunday @ Space
Fed and watered it was time to Rock’n’Roll,, we headed into PDB to get some tickets for Space. We got them form Coco’s and were set to go, just to go and get some dosh. Unfortunately it seems the whole Island had run out of money. ATM after ATM yielded zero dough and with time pushing on I thought it was going to be a case of all dressed up with no cash to go. But, AWESOME a cash machine finally spits out a couple of hundred euros at me and it’s off to space we go.
It was after 1am when we finally got into the club, the sunset terrace had a few people milling around and so we head into the cauldron that is the new terrace. It’s jam packed and AVH is whacking out the big hits, we meet up with some friends and it’ s game on for the next 5 hours. Headed inside the discotecha to see JZ but was too early, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Tiefschwarz were on and although I was familiar with there productions I wasn’t particularly fussed about seeing them DJ. I am glad I did. They cracked out some of the most intense tracks I have ever heard, proper face melters. NO idea what they were but they played 3 outstanding tracks in a row. One wouldn’t have sounded out of place in Gatecrasher at it’s peak, dark atmospheric pads with a big rolling synth over the top. They followed this with one of the most Jackin’ tracks I have ever heard. Chicago house on a large dose of roids. After this they played the face melter which climaxed the set. Screaming ravers, an ice cannon and a synth riff that literally compressed every internal organ. After this they cooled it off as JZ set up the last of his equipment. In fact they killed it a bit for me by looping a breakdown rather than a drum loop while he did so, there was a good 5 minutes with out any percussion that I actually timed. It was playing out for a long time before I became conscious of it happening. Zabiela was good finishing with some pretty intense Sasha-esque melodic numbers. Meanwhile Tenaglia was going insane on the terrace. He started out much more fierce than I’d have thought playing some cool tribal/percussive techno. At 5:45 we called it a night and headed back to the apartment.
The Air-con at the Jabeque…
Last year was the first year that I’ve ever had a room with air-con that worked. It was good but took a long time to get going and then it wasn’t that cold. The Jabeque’s is a bad boy. It gets seriously cold seriously fast. It took me days to master this.
I get in from space feeling tender at best. It’s hot and I am a sweaty mess. I adopt my usual position on top of the bed nude. I set the air con to snow flake. The hotel book recommended 18, was that degrees or just a setting, I don’t know, I don’t care either I am an intelligent experienced traveller I know all about sleeping in hot weather, we get hot days at home and I deal with them by getting nude and sleeping with no covers. I’ll do the same in Ibiza and have the aircon on ****ing snowflake mate. No bother.
I wake up 2 hours later about to die of hypothermia. Do I turn the air con up? Do I ****. I am British I am used to temperatures of -2 outside of my centrally heated, duvet warmed house. I get under the 2mm thin cotton sheet and drift off to unconsciousness. An hour later I wake again. It’s Baltic. How to I rectify this situation. Turn the air con off? No way Pedro. I use biology degree to its best and put my head under the cover to conserve some of the 90% of my body heat that I am losing with my exposed noggin.
This rigmarole is repeated for 3 days until I accept defeat and set the air-con to the mystical setting of 18. Snowflake had beaten me.
Monday 7th Aug
We wake up at about 1pm feeling surprisingly fresh. Quickly we get our **** together and set off on our first day out. There is one slight complication. As time had been getting on last night without actually being anywhere near Space, I had decided to drive the car to the club, park it up and get it the next morning. So we’re faced with a 30 minute walk in the blistering Sun, which is surprisingly painless actually and by 2pm we’re heading off towards San Josep in search of a beach.
Restaurant Es Savine, Cala Jondal
We opt for Cala Jondal, a beach that we haven’t been to before. We arrive to park in the car park of the beach side restaurant Es Savine. Cala Jondal is a beach spanning, I estimate, about half a mile distance between 2 large hills. I am not sure if the beach is a man-made creation but the golden sand stops quite abruptly about 10 meters away from the sea. At this point a bank of small boulders point quite steeply down toward the turquoise waters. Quite large breaking waves crash against the rocks. As the waves retreat the water pulls the rocks ever so slightly creating a very hypnotic rippling noise. There is plenty of space on Cala Jondal, no-where near as popular as Cala d’ Hort and Tarida in the surrounding area.
After an hour or so of attempted photosynthesising we realise that we lack the ability to absorb carbon dioxide from the air and so must receive nutrition in some other way. Eating seems favourite and so off we head to Es Savines.
Many tables are reserved in the Pine tree shaded terrace and those that aren’t seem to be occupied by large Spanish families out for meals together. All of the families seem to be having paella, and they look to have made wise decisions as the waiters bring out various size paella pans over the next 2 hours, including one which was probably around 3 feet in diameter and contained enough paella to feed a table with 30 hungry eaters.
Not hungry enough to face a paella Michelle and I choose Mussels Marinara and Garlic prawns respectively. Which we choose to wash is down with a large jug of sangria. The dishes arrive. Mine a small earthenware dish with 20 or so peeled prawns sizzling in boiling oil. Michelle’s mussels arrive. There must be 50 big mussels in the dish, far too many for her to eat and so I volunteer my services to help out and I am rewarded with a taste sensation. The sauce is a salty blend of wine, herbs and a dice of peppers and onions. Delicious. This dish is so nice I consider booking a table for an evening meal, when it’d be a good chance to sample the extremely popular paella but in the end I don’t. I’ll consider it for next year, maybe, who knows? More from Es Savine later. Anyway we finish up and a bill for €47 sees us on our way. The next few hours are spent relaxing on the beach with various sorties into the sea to cool off. At around 7pm we make a move back to the Jabeque, not before stopping off in PDB to visit La Sirena for some vital beach equipment.
We get to PBD and I park behind the shop in the Jet complex car park. We stroll off to get our purchases. Just as we’re about to leave the car park a local youth emerges from a hut and starts to approach. No problem. I know that this guy thinks we are NOT residents at the Jet complex, and yes he is actually right, and so he is going to challenge us and get us to move on. This is not an issue as I am going to lie our way easily past this guy and carry on with our lilo seeking mission. He makes his move but it’s Spanish. No fear I am well versed in the local Castillian dialect. I am not really but I can say that I don’t understand. The youth doesn’t speak much English either and so my job of lying is going to be much more difficult. He is however a master of international sign language. You know the deal make some primitive actions with your hands whilst saying things slowly and loudly.
It turns out this youth doesn’t care where we are staying but his job is in fact to ensure people do not walk in or out of his entrance. This is probably some type of safety procedure. What’s funny is that he obviously cares about his job and will not let people past. But he will spend 5 minutes arguing with them stood right in the middle of the road. As so, we got his message we turned around but we did see a couple of lads stand and argue with him. I think next year I will push this boy and see what happens if you try some childish dodging moves. I think it might get a bit heated with a bit of pushing and shoving. Hopefully. At La Sirena we get a bat and ball and a swimming mask, unfortunately no lilos appeal to Shell. The hunt continues.
Night time approaches and we’re undecided with what to do. I want to go to Cocoon to see Hawtin and Villalobos, I also fancy Carl Cox the day after. Three clubs in 3 days would be nigh on impossible for me I reckon. Some friends are going to Carl Cox, none to Cocoon. Michelle hates Drum and Bass and Roni Size is playing at Carl Cox. Decisions, Decisions. We decide on Carl Cox, Space is also easier to get to and from and that seals the deal. This is a decision I sort of regret now as we don’t make it to Cocoon on the second week and apparently Hawtin and Villalobos have destroyed the terrace.
With no dinner reservation made we head off into Ibiza town to try our luck. It’s a half hour walk. We did wait for the bus, the stop is 50 meters from the hotel, but it seems the bus have no regular times. We get to Ibiza town before the bus and the stroll has helped us work up an appetite. First port of call is into Dalt Vila to book a table for Tuesday at La Torreta.
La Bodega
With nowhere booked to eat that night and all of the restaurants in Dalt Villa looking fully booked we headed down the ramp and to La Bodega Tapas Bar. We get a table on the street right under the flowering Sweet Pea plants that crawls it’s way up the face of the bar.
A waitress brings us the menu from which we chose; Black pudding (superb), pork sirloin (cured not cooked meat) with peppers, peppers stuffed with cod in a cheese and tomato sauce and meat pasties. These are small tapas leaving ample space for desert, and if you go here you HAVE to leave space for desert. I had the maracuya cream which was lovely, light and fruity but was easily outclassed by the chocolate bomb with cherry sauce that Michelle was tucking into.
The only downside to this meal was sitting by a table of Americans. They like totally annoyed me with the way they like totally talk and totally like over analyse everything not only that but like they are like totally cringe-worthy in the way they are always totally correct.
This was a great dinner, the bar is meters away from the throng of activity yet remained tranquil throughout. It’s cheap as well, €47 in total for us.
Full up we headed off to do some shopping. After an hour or two of perusing every shop in the winding streets of the marina and a quick couple of drinks at one of the bars we head off to the taxi rank with Michelle being the new owner of a bracelet to match the ring she bought last year, a jewellery box and a fridge magnet. I am carrying a new mug for school.
Taxi queues never fail to amaze and fill me with despair in Ibiza and I have decided it is solely to blame on Italians. The idea of a queue seems totally alien to the nation of mullet sporting colour-clashing white stripe chanting idiots. I love the way they ignore the 100 person strong queue like its just not there. I can’t believe they actually try to stop cabs literally feet away from the end of the queue. Or they just go straight to the front and pretend nothings happened. What’s even more shocking and laughable is the way when confronted they just shrug and tell you to calm down. Calm the **** down, I’ve been in this queue for an hour mate I am willing to die for my place in this line. You can **** the **** off you dooo do do do do dooo dog**** bastards. In fact Italians really piss me off. That chant is ****. They walk down the middle of the road like they are invincible and look confused when you want to drive past them. Nice one mate the pavement was created especially for your pedestrian self, now get the **** on it. They’re worse on mopeds. At one set of lights I was both under and over taken by the bastards in their 1980’s dayglo-sports clothes. Doooo do do doo do do one. And if they’re not driving the twats badly on the road then they’re doing it on the pavement. No wonder their country folk fancy their chances more on the road. And all this accompanied by that ****ing white stripes chant. Italochavs - spaghetti eating twats. And I haven’t even started on their behaviour in the clubs.
Tuesday 8th
We wake up at midday to the tail end of a thunder storm. This typified the weather of our holiday. Easily the ****test I’ve experienced in Ibiza. No two consecutive days of hot Sun. Either cloudy mornings or cloudy evenings, and rain on several occasions. That said the Pine Islands are really green and for a place with no natural fresh water this frequent rainfall must help to keep the island’s natural beauty.
The rain shows no signs of stopping and so to kill time we head to local English Eatery “Mike’s Kitchen.” I am first to criticise people that eat at this type of place every day on holiday but I must admit sometimes I get the craving for some English food. Some English places though are utter hovels. Mike’s Kitchen is as good as they get and dirt cheap. We get two of the biggest breakfasts available and chow down. Breakfast, tea and orange juice costs us €16. The relentless rain shows no sign of slowing down. We retire back to the apartment to sit on the balcony drink some booze and listen to some music, on the way Shell spots a lilo she likes the look of. It’s pink with multicoloured spots. Lilo selection is a very serious part of Michelle’s holiday.
With no option of doing much else we head into San Antonio to do some shopping. With the aim of getting a specific t-shirt I had seen in Pacha’s Ibiza shop. This is the first real encounter we have with the new motorway. Getting across to San Antonio proves to be a nightmare, it takes the best part of an hour. They have made huge inroads into this massive undertaking but it soon became apparent to me that it’s making travelling around certain areas of the island a nightmare to navigate. I pick up the latest Amnesia underground CD but again no luck with the t-shirt. A painful trip to an ATM later and we’re on our way back to the Jabeque. The roads works proving worse on the return journey.
By evening the rain has stopped and the heat has dried the area up, we get ready and walk into Ibiza town ready for 2300 booking at La Toretta.
La Toretta.
My favourite restaurant in Dalt Villa. It has a prime location in the old town. The staff are all polite, friendly, and attentive. The setting is romantic and the food is delicious. Michelle once again wins the taste test with her Beef Carpaccio starter, it’s incredible, raw beef with a balsamic reduction and parmesan shavings. My Octopus salad is great, but doesn’t compete with the beef. I win the main course round though. I have the Cod au Gratin, the cheese sauce is combined with a soft alioli which perfectly accompanies the fish. Michelle has the Sea bream stuffed with sage and Iberian ham. Tasty, but a little dry with no sauce. The final dessert round goes to Shell; warm choc sponge with mango sorbet just edges past my chocolate mousse with orange jelly.
Whilst sitting eating our meal we meat a couple on their 19 and 15th year of visits to Ibiza. I think at first they were shocked to find two young English people that sort life outside of San Antonio but soon it turned out we had lots in common had been to some of the same restaurants and shared a career in teaching.
Our meals came to an end and with a coffee and wine included out bill came to €91, easily worth it for such a pleasant start to the evening. La Toretta is my top-tip for anyone wishing to eat in Dalt Villa ,everything is top class, including the décor inside. Be sure to have a peak in at the table they keep down stairs on your way into the toilet. The stained glass and stone backdrop to that table is awe inspiring.
Carl Cox @ Space
The bill paid we head down into the marina area to visit the space shop, where we get tickets for tonight’s rave. Ready for action we head off to the taxi queue. It’s huge and going no-where fast. A guy approaches.
“You wanna taxi?”
“Yeah, Space, How much?”
“40 euros.”
“No thanks.”
The guy then goes into detail of how an official taxi will cost me €30 anyway. I know it wont having had a €6 taxi to Ibiza town and a €6 euro taxi to space and knowing our hotel was half way. It doesn’t take Hawkings to work out that this journey would be no more than €15 in a real cab.
A rival approaches.
The same conversation occurs except this guy wants €15. Sweet. We’re in. Ten minutes later and we’re in the queue for space. I’ve got to say we’d have been lost without the use of illegal taxis this year. Obviously some try to rip you off but official cabs just seemed scarce at all times, especially when the clubs hit peak hours.
We get into Carl Cox for 1:30am. Ideal time IMO. I’ve been earlier on a few occasions and can just never get into it. On previous occasions I have found the residents to be weak at best, playing pretty bland house music, and there’s been a long wait in between Cox’s sets. As we get there they are just opening the new terrace and people flood in. I don’t know who is playing but they are playing straight up Chicago house. I love it. It’s a genre that’s missing on the island IMO, this set is just what the doctor ordered. We spend an hour or so jackin away to some boompty boomp music with a smattering of acid. In this time said friends are no-where to be seen.
On to inside and John Digweed. He is hammering it out. Bit riffy house music with trademark perfect Digweed mixing. The crowd are loving it. We see the 60 year old superstar DJ Pete Tong shmoozing it up with a bit of totty in the VIP. Incidentally, what is going on with VIP areas in space? I thought this club prided itself on all punters being treated equally. At CC they had the area behind DJ box cordoned off. Totally insane as there were about 8 people in there, and they turned back some people that have obviously paid for VIP access. A totally stupid waste of space in a club short on space on this occasion.
After a quick chill out it’s back to the terrace to see my main draw, D’n’B supremo Roni Size. He is just starting, I think, and plays 7 nation army. Is this a clever move to get it out of the Italians systems? I think so, because after that it’s straight into 3 hours of heavy drum and bass. Mc Dynamite is on Mc’ing duties as Size plays loads of heavy beats. I am loving it. The Heavily Italian crowd are not. There are lots of confused faces stood around and lots of people trying to get into the discotecha. Suits me just fine; plenty of space to do my thang.
We break up time in with Roni Size with frequent trips to the sunset terrace to chill and various attempts to get in to see Cox. The discotecha is like I have never seen it before; unbearably full and as hot as a blast furnace. Towards the end of his set Size tries again to play 7 nation army. There must be no Italians in the place, he has cleared them all out. Dynamite tries starting the chant. No replies. On the 3rd or 4th attempt with no music playing a small crowd do the chant and so Size continues with his last tune. A full on metallic jungle master piece. It’s time to go. Not a taxi in site we decide to walk home. Raving hard to drum and bass in flip flops has ruined my feet.
Wednesday 9th
We wake to be greeted by a Sunny day out at sea. Time to head to the beach. It’s as we leave the hotel we see that half of the island seems covered in thick cloud. No worries as we have the technology in the form of the mighty Panda 4x4. We head north, and then north some more eventually landing at Playa de Figueral. Quite a small beach is enclosed by some small cliffs from the surrounding hills. It’s nice enough and cooled by an off-shore wind. The clouds arrive and then pass and we’re left with a warm day. The sea is clear, warm and refreshing with lots of swimmers.
Hunger returns and we head off to the restaurant Kon Tiki. After a few minutes a really miserable waitress brings over a specials board and a menu. I order drinks in Spanish. Now this is something I know that I can do, I’ve done it loads before and never had huge problems, what I do have problems with sometimes is talking English as I have a reasonably strong accent and tend to talk fast. This waitress though looked at me like I was a piece of ****. I’ve had this a few times when trying to speak Spanish. On the whole it’s met well, appreciated and tolerated, on the odd occasion it gets the exact opposite.
She brings the drinks and takes our food order. I order in English and she has a clue what I have just said. I revert to international sign language and talking slowly and loudly. She doesn’t get it. I ask in Spanish and all of a sudden she can understand me. She is a wopper. I could tell she was just being difficult for the sake of it. She is not getting a tip.
I have the Spanish Salad, which is an average green salad with bits of fried chorizo, fish and squid. Michelle has the seafood salad, which is two fillets of different fish on a bed of lettuce. I win. With sangria and some beers this meal costs us €44.
After dinner we head back to the beach for some sun bathing, lilo-ing and swimming. Well in fact it’s just me does the swimming. Shell won’t go out very deep and prefers to lie on the lilo, ordering me where to drag her. It cracks me up. I take a stroll to a rocky out crop with has lost of people fishing on it. I love watching continentals fishing. They have no idea. Surely people must realise when fishing for fish 3 inches long that you don’t need a hook that would injure a Marlin? We eventually leave the beach at 8pm as the surrounding cliffs cast their shadows to the seas edge.
Back at the pad I make a reservation for Sa Capella. In Spanish. Throb On. With no reservation made for tonight we decide to try our look at Destinos in San Josep. We get in the car and head off. I realise all I know is the name of the bar and that I am not 100% sure it’s even in the town we are going to. We park up and head off towards the main road. I need to visit a cash point and dart over the busy road to visit the Telebanco machine. Worried for Michelle’s safety on the busy road I tell her to use the crossing, as she reaches the crossing she sees our venue 20 meters behind her, on her side.
It’s busy. In fact it’s packed. We go in and the head waitress says she can’t fit us in until 11. We accept the booking and retreat back into the centre of San Josep. To kill time we sit on stool at the bar on the side of the road and have a jug of sangria. The time to eat quickly arrives.
Destinos, San Josep.
I’ve read about this place on spotlight and it seems just the type of establishment I like to try. We’re seated and told they don’t have a menu but that the maitre d would come out and take us in to describe the dishes to us. And she’s right, 5 minutes later a guy asked us to follow him into the bar. He very quickly names all of the dishes and then takes your order. Loads appeal. There are many cold and hot options to pick from. We choose the majority of ours from the hot selection, which are meats and vegetables in various sauces. Another way, like the guys next to us went for, is to pick from the selection of hummus type dips to eat with bread. We opt for; cod stuffed peppers, lamb kebabs with chilli sauce, salted cod with oil and olives, beef in a spicy sauce, turkey in a peanut sauce, leeks in a coconut and chilli sauce and cauliflower and broccoli au gratin. We wash this down with a bottle of the house rose. For desert the waitress brings around a large tray of mini gateaux from which Michelle has a Banana cake and I have a chocolate and cherry one. I have a coffee to round the meal off, which actually I needed as a cool breeze had picked up in the area. We settle the bill of €57 and head off home.
Thursday 9th
We wake up to a sunny day. After sorting ourselves out it’s into the Panda and off to Cala Tarida. This beached was new to us last year and is one of my favourites; lovely golden sand and clear water. It’s a popular place though and when we arrive it’s very busy. We get two sunbeds and spend the majority of the day trying to catch some of the elusive sun. The blister between my toes has burst and I am not keen to move but do venture across the sand to visit Beach Bar Chiniquit. They serve typical fast food, burger and chips etc. I have a kebab with chips and Michelle has a Pizza. Beer and Sangria help quench our first and complete our bill of €39.
More time is spend on the beach until we decide to call it a day and go to buy our cream tickets. We drive straight to PDB and get tickets from the club shop by the pizzeria. We get back to the Jabeque and have a short siesta before its time to get up and head to Sa Capella.
Sa Capella
We’re booked into the restautant at 2200. We leave for it at 2100 and I take the route via San Josep, which gets us there 30 minutes early. After last years parking fiasco I strategically position the Panda in a spot which is practically impossible to get blocked in in…. we’ll see if I am right.
Sa Capella is an incredible setting, Photos fail to do it justice and so will my words. I’ll try by simply saying that if I was going to propose in Ibiza I’d consider doing it here. The waiting staff and management are great, extremely efficient. The menu has numerous dishes that I’d be happy to eat.
This evening I select Beef Carpaccio to start. It’s served with parmesan shavings but lacks the tangy balsamic reduction of la Toretta’s version. Michelle starts with salmon rolls stuffed with a tuna tartare. Nice. I reckon she wins this one. Slightly. For main course we both have what is described in the menu as ox steaks cooked on a baked rock. The waiter brings to our table a paraffin burner, above which sits a slab of rock which holds a bed of tightly packed salt. This is perfect. It’s a fun dish, it’s tasty and you get your meat cooked as you like, you can cook and eat it at you own pace. I know all about this meal, I did want it last year but Michelle really wanted a fish dish and so as this is for 2 people I missed out. After a year of waiting I wasn’t let down. We finish the meal with Banana tart and ice cream and Cheesecake. Both stunning desserts. The bill including a bottle of wine and drinks as aperitif comes to €125.Judge Jules is outside eating with what I can only assume is a gay lover as we leave.
The meal is over in a surprisingly quick time and before long we’re back at the Jabeque with time plenty of time until cream. Feeling full to burst we decide on a rave nap. Unfortunately for me Michelle proves impossible to wake on several occasions and in the end I admit defeat and give up on cream.
Read this if you are looking for information/opinions on:
- Sirenis Jabeque
- Tapas/Tapas bars – La Bodega, Destino, Home Loos
- Renting a car, car hire, Hiper rent-a-car, amigoautos, amigo autos
- Restaurants – Ca Na Ribes, Es Savine, Mike’s Kitchen, La Torretta, Kon tiki, Sa Capella, Tijuana, Cellar C’an Pere, Rias Baixes, Crossaint show, Port Balansat, Pacha, Blue Bar, Ama Lur
- Beaches - Jondal, Tarida, Benirras, San Miguel, Porroig, Sa Caleta, Bassa, Playa de figural. Migjorn (Formenterra)
- Las Dalias Hippy Market
- Clubs – Pacha, Space, Carl Cox, Pure Pacha, Subliminal Session, We Love Sundays, Bora Bora.
**** that moody sentimental ****, let’s get down to the nitty gritty. It was awesome I am going to detail every single ****ing second of it. If you’ve stumbled across this in search of information then look at my honest and most humble opinion and decide how much you trust my judgement. Am I like you? Are we compatible people? You decide.
Okey dokey, let’s get started then… This is an x-rated review, if you don’t like swearing you can **** the **** off.
Two years ago we stayed at the Jet Apartments, Ideal location for the Über-clubber. That’s not really me these days. Bit too quiet for non-club nights i.e. **** bars and **** restaurants. In search of that missing something to do at night last year we stayed at the Hotel Bahia, in San An Bay. Closer to what we were after but the Hotel clientele just weren’t for me. So our requirements as a mid-twenties couple, that are into clubbing, but not as much as we used to be, have a taste for eating out and a penchant for a quieter relaxing time were to find a location close to Ibiza town, not in Playa D’en Bossa and not surrounded by your typical 18-30’s reveller crowd. We decided that Figueretes or Talamanca would be the ideal locations. But I am a creature of habit (this will playa role repeatedly through this recollection) and having had my holiday time slashed by inconsiderate airlines in the past, well once actually, (but that once was enough for me to never want to book separate flights and accommodation again) I trawled the internet in search of the ideal package holiday. I found only one tour operator with one hotel in Figuretes, Thomson offering up the formidable Mira-Mola Apartments. Research into these shone an unfavourable light all over there gaudy décor and so we gave them a wide berth. With no available options left we plumped for the family orientated hotel the Sirenis Jabeque advertised in the brochures as being in Playa d’en Bossa. Further research showed that the Jabeque is actually in an area called Es Vive, North of PDB and just south of Figuretes . Sweet. Just a year to wait for this mother-****er of a holiday to arrive.
Sunday 6th Aug
Awoooga. Awooga. No! That isn’t the sound of John Fashanu in mid-nineties hit action game show , Gladiators celebrating a bad-ass take down by steroid ridden muscle man, Shadow. It’s actually the closest I can come to describing the sound of my alarm clock. I ****ing hate it, it signals the start of every working day but not today. This will be the last time I am hearing this ****er for at least two weeks. It’s 4:30 AM in 2 hours I plan to be drinking hard alcohol In Manchester Airport before jetting off to the White Bastard Ibiza ****ing Island. The drive there is smooth but a couple of queues at check-in and passport control means we, that is, Michelle, my fiancé and I, hit the lounge pretty late. £17 buys you as much booze as you can stick away in that time and the comfort of a moment’s peace and quiet in the middle of a bustling terminal. In our short time there I manage a few swift vodka and bitter lemons, a definite taste of Pacha.
The call comes for boarding and we head to our gate, over the past few years this is where we’ve first come into contact with our “like-minded” revelling travel companion, such as the guy with the positive record label tattoo on his head, the gigantically obese couple dressed in academic gowns and various well gelled boys in number tee-shirts with matching stupid nicknames, a particularly skinny boy called “The Groom” springs to mind. This year was different, the gate was surrounded by families of all ages ready to make on their jollies. However a trip to Ibiza wouldn’t be right without something odd at the gate. Opposite our gate is a flight heading to Zurich. A family of orthodox Jews are going that way. They make their way off around the corner to wait in a quieter area. Five minutes later another Orthodox Jew heads toward the gate looking slightly lost. A kind Christian sees the problem and so directs the older Jew to his to his missing family. Oh dear these Jews don’t know each other, you’ve made the racist mistake of assuming they must be the same family just because they all practice the same religion. An easy mistake to make really I suppose but this feller felt a twat, I had seen it all and was feeding of his embarrassment and obvious discomfort when he realised his mistake.
We get on the plane it’s a 757, biggest I’ve ever been on, awesome. It’s a Sunny day and a combination of JD and coke and Kronenberg make the flight time literally fly by. The clear skies make for some spectacular views and before we know it we’re taxiing along the runway of Ibiza airport. The door opens. I step into the bright light the heat hits me, but that is not the only assault on my senses. A smell of **** blasts deep into my nostrils. It’s good to be back. Actually part of that is lie. It was cloudy, but it did stink of ****. Onto baggage reclamation, which is painfully slow and then to Hiper Rent-a-car.
Hiperrentacar.com, hiper rent a car, car hire
This was to be the third year we have planned to have a car. It’s an absolute must for me now, I wouldn’t go to Ibiza without one. That is the impact it has on my holidays. The first year we used Carjet.com and ended up being supplied by Hiper. The service was ideal, cheap, no excess, pretty efficient in the office etc etc. Last year through Carjet we were to be supplied by Centauro. Carjet’s advertised nil excess wasn’t provided and ended up losing money through a small prang. Carjet became a faceless, in-contactable business as I tried to get my excess back so this year we searched for a new broker. Amigoautos.com were comparable in price and offered nil excess. I was weary though as not a penny was to be paid until pick up. What if I got there and Hiper were not expecting me. It would have ruined my holiday, but rest assured 20 minutes after walking into the office I was driving away in a Fiat Panda 4x4. The total cost for 2 weeks is £[/]220 + a refundable deposit of £40 for fuel.
The key to driving in Ibiza for me, I believe, is to get the smallest vehicle possible. Gaps are small, roads are narrow and parking spaces are tiny, the smaller your car is the more chance you have of NOT having some type of bang. The Panda is ideal and I am sure there wasn’t this many last year but this summer there were swarms of them heading all over the island.
The Sirenis Jabeque
Would I stay here again? That’s the best way I can think to rate this hotel. The answer is a resounding yes, here’s why…
- The rooms are all sea facing, with views of Formenterra, Ibiza Town and the hotel pools from the living area and balcony. The bedrooms face west, so away from the Sun keeping them cool during the day, not that that is a problem as the free air-con is immense.
- The Pools fill very early with families. But the noise for late risers is shielded by the living/kitchen area, the bathrooms and small hallway. The hotel is not on the main road and so road noise isn’t a problem. Air-traffic noise is also minimal.
- The location is a real plus point, 30mins walk or €6 to both Space and Ibiza Town. There’s also a good selection of cafés, shops and an ATM within 100 meters of the front door. It’s 30 yards down the road from the Hotel Es Vive literally opposite over the road from the Mira Mola mentioned earlier.
- The rooms are well maintained, with the maid visiting daily with fresh towels and linen.
- Security has been as issue I’ve read about this year and it’s a none issue at the Jabeque, a safe costs €2 a day, balconies are very secure, a 6ft wall provides privacy and stops any temptation that might lead to an opportunistic thief and the 24hr reception is manned by surly looking guards of a night.
- Also if you’re after a family hotel it doesn’t come any better a comprehensive day and night entertainment package and two pools for the day time.
We settle into the room and by the time we are unpacked it has brightened up and has turned into a very hot day, it’s 3pm so we decide to head down to the pool and chill out for a few hours prior to Space.
Ca Na Ribes
Evening approached and there was no sign of contact from our friends that were already at Space, so we decided to go late as we prefer, and that it’d be nice to go after a good meal, so we head to Santa Eulalia and one of our favourite restaurants, Ca Na Ribes.
Last year we ate here twice, the service was excellent and the food hearty and tasty. Unfortunately this year’s visit wasn’t up to scratch. For starters we both opted for the battered squid. When it came I was shock at the size of the portion, there was probably enough for 6 people in these 2 bowls and being over-cooked meant that chewing fast became a chore. The service which had been attentive and friendly last year was again warm but practically non-existent. I think due to the location of our table hidden behind a small shrub. The main courses arrived, eventually, the daunting filling before we had even taken our first bite. I opted for my favourite roast lamb leg, which is excellent. Roasted with a herb crust and sweet tomatoes until the meat falls off the bone but after a sustained effort there was hardly an impact made in this huge cut of meat. Michelle opted for the Cod au Gratin; 2 huge cod steaks which a creamy cheese sauce. The second steak was unnecessary Gordon Ramsey would have a Kitchen Nightmare if he saw the huge portions these guys give and by the end of the meal they had killed off any chance of dessert or coffee. But it’s not the food that let this visit down it was the repeated slow service, I asked for the bill twice, I eventually had to go and get it, then there was a 10 minute wait where no-one came and so I took the money to the manageress. Our 2 courses with a jug of sangria set us back €70.
Go here for a romantic, homely setting and huge portions of rustic, tasty food.
We Love Sunday @ Space
Fed and watered it was time to Rock’n’Roll,, we headed into PDB to get some tickets for Space. We got them form Coco’s and were set to go, just to go and get some dosh. Unfortunately it seems the whole Island had run out of money. ATM after ATM yielded zero dough and with time pushing on I thought it was going to be a case of all dressed up with no cash to go. But, AWESOME a cash machine finally spits out a couple of hundred euros at me and it’s off to space we go.
It was after 1am when we finally got into the club, the sunset terrace had a few people milling around and so we head into the cauldron that is the new terrace. It’s jam packed and AVH is whacking out the big hits, we meet up with some friends and it’ s game on for the next 5 hours. Headed inside the discotecha to see JZ but was too early, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Tiefschwarz were on and although I was familiar with there productions I wasn’t particularly fussed about seeing them DJ. I am glad I did. They cracked out some of the most intense tracks I have ever heard, proper face melters. NO idea what they were but they played 3 outstanding tracks in a row. One wouldn’t have sounded out of place in Gatecrasher at it’s peak, dark atmospheric pads with a big rolling synth over the top. They followed this with one of the most Jackin’ tracks I have ever heard. Chicago house on a large dose of roids. After this they played the face melter which climaxed the set. Screaming ravers, an ice cannon and a synth riff that literally compressed every internal organ. After this they cooled it off as JZ set up the last of his equipment. In fact they killed it a bit for me by looping a breakdown rather than a drum loop while he did so, there was a good 5 minutes with out any percussion that I actually timed. It was playing out for a long time before I became conscious of it happening. Zabiela was good finishing with some pretty intense Sasha-esque melodic numbers. Meanwhile Tenaglia was going insane on the terrace. He started out much more fierce than I’d have thought playing some cool tribal/percussive techno. At 5:45 we called it a night and headed back to the apartment.
The Air-con at the Jabeque…
Last year was the first year that I’ve ever had a room with air-con that worked. It was good but took a long time to get going and then it wasn’t that cold. The Jabeque’s is a bad boy. It gets seriously cold seriously fast. It took me days to master this.
I get in from space feeling tender at best. It’s hot and I am a sweaty mess. I adopt my usual position on top of the bed nude. I set the air con to snow flake. The hotel book recommended 18, was that degrees or just a setting, I don’t know, I don’t care either I am an intelligent experienced traveller I know all about sleeping in hot weather, we get hot days at home and I deal with them by getting nude and sleeping with no covers. I’ll do the same in Ibiza and have the aircon on ****ing snowflake mate. No bother.
I wake up 2 hours later about to die of hypothermia. Do I turn the air con up? Do I ****. I am British I am used to temperatures of -2 outside of my centrally heated, duvet warmed house. I get under the 2mm thin cotton sheet and drift off to unconsciousness. An hour later I wake again. It’s Baltic. How to I rectify this situation. Turn the air con off? No way Pedro. I use biology degree to its best and put my head under the cover to conserve some of the 90% of my body heat that I am losing with my exposed noggin.
This rigmarole is repeated for 3 days until I accept defeat and set the air-con to the mystical setting of 18. Snowflake had beaten me.
Monday 7th Aug
We wake up at about 1pm feeling surprisingly fresh. Quickly we get our **** together and set off on our first day out. There is one slight complication. As time had been getting on last night without actually being anywhere near Space, I had decided to drive the car to the club, park it up and get it the next morning. So we’re faced with a 30 minute walk in the blistering Sun, which is surprisingly painless actually and by 2pm we’re heading off towards San Josep in search of a beach.
Restaurant Es Savine, Cala Jondal
We opt for Cala Jondal, a beach that we haven’t been to before. We arrive to park in the car park of the beach side restaurant Es Savine. Cala Jondal is a beach spanning, I estimate, about half a mile distance between 2 large hills. I am not sure if the beach is a man-made creation but the golden sand stops quite abruptly about 10 meters away from the sea. At this point a bank of small boulders point quite steeply down toward the turquoise waters. Quite large breaking waves crash against the rocks. As the waves retreat the water pulls the rocks ever so slightly creating a very hypnotic rippling noise. There is plenty of space on Cala Jondal, no-where near as popular as Cala d’ Hort and Tarida in the surrounding area.
After an hour or so of attempted photosynthesising we realise that we lack the ability to absorb carbon dioxide from the air and so must receive nutrition in some other way. Eating seems favourite and so off we head to Es Savines.
Many tables are reserved in the Pine tree shaded terrace and those that aren’t seem to be occupied by large Spanish families out for meals together. All of the families seem to be having paella, and they look to have made wise decisions as the waiters bring out various size paella pans over the next 2 hours, including one which was probably around 3 feet in diameter and contained enough paella to feed a table with 30 hungry eaters.
Not hungry enough to face a paella Michelle and I choose Mussels Marinara and Garlic prawns respectively. Which we choose to wash is down with a large jug of sangria. The dishes arrive. Mine a small earthenware dish with 20 or so peeled prawns sizzling in boiling oil. Michelle’s mussels arrive. There must be 50 big mussels in the dish, far too many for her to eat and so I volunteer my services to help out and I am rewarded with a taste sensation. The sauce is a salty blend of wine, herbs and a dice of peppers and onions. Delicious. This dish is so nice I consider booking a table for an evening meal, when it’d be a good chance to sample the extremely popular paella but in the end I don’t. I’ll consider it for next year, maybe, who knows? More from Es Savine later. Anyway we finish up and a bill for €47 sees us on our way. The next few hours are spent relaxing on the beach with various sorties into the sea to cool off. At around 7pm we make a move back to the Jabeque, not before stopping off in PDB to visit La Sirena for some vital beach equipment.
We get to PBD and I park behind the shop in the Jet complex car park. We stroll off to get our purchases. Just as we’re about to leave the car park a local youth emerges from a hut and starts to approach. No problem. I know that this guy thinks we are NOT residents at the Jet complex, and yes he is actually right, and so he is going to challenge us and get us to move on. This is not an issue as I am going to lie our way easily past this guy and carry on with our lilo seeking mission. He makes his move but it’s Spanish. No fear I am well versed in the local Castillian dialect. I am not really but I can say that I don’t understand. The youth doesn’t speak much English either and so my job of lying is going to be much more difficult. He is however a master of international sign language. You know the deal make some primitive actions with your hands whilst saying things slowly and loudly.
It turns out this youth doesn’t care where we are staying but his job is in fact to ensure people do not walk in or out of his entrance. This is probably some type of safety procedure. What’s funny is that he obviously cares about his job and will not let people past. But he will spend 5 minutes arguing with them stood right in the middle of the road. As so, we got his message we turned around but we did see a couple of lads stand and argue with him. I think next year I will push this boy and see what happens if you try some childish dodging moves. I think it might get a bit heated with a bit of pushing and shoving. Hopefully. At La Sirena we get a bat and ball and a swimming mask, unfortunately no lilos appeal to Shell. The hunt continues.
Night time approaches and we’re undecided with what to do. I want to go to Cocoon to see Hawtin and Villalobos, I also fancy Carl Cox the day after. Three clubs in 3 days would be nigh on impossible for me I reckon. Some friends are going to Carl Cox, none to Cocoon. Michelle hates Drum and Bass and Roni Size is playing at Carl Cox. Decisions, Decisions. We decide on Carl Cox, Space is also easier to get to and from and that seals the deal. This is a decision I sort of regret now as we don’t make it to Cocoon on the second week and apparently Hawtin and Villalobos have destroyed the terrace.
With no dinner reservation made we head off into Ibiza town to try our luck. It’s a half hour walk. We did wait for the bus, the stop is 50 meters from the hotel, but it seems the bus have no regular times. We get to Ibiza town before the bus and the stroll has helped us work up an appetite. First port of call is into Dalt Vila to book a table for Tuesday at La Torreta.
La Bodega
With nowhere booked to eat that night and all of the restaurants in Dalt Villa looking fully booked we headed down the ramp and to La Bodega Tapas Bar. We get a table on the street right under the flowering Sweet Pea plants that crawls it’s way up the face of the bar.
A waitress brings us the menu from which we chose; Black pudding (superb), pork sirloin (cured not cooked meat) with peppers, peppers stuffed with cod in a cheese and tomato sauce and meat pasties. These are small tapas leaving ample space for desert, and if you go here you HAVE to leave space for desert. I had the maracuya cream which was lovely, light and fruity but was easily outclassed by the chocolate bomb with cherry sauce that Michelle was tucking into.
The only downside to this meal was sitting by a table of Americans. They like totally annoyed me with the way they like totally talk and totally like over analyse everything not only that but like they are like totally cringe-worthy in the way they are always totally correct.
This was a great dinner, the bar is meters away from the throng of activity yet remained tranquil throughout. It’s cheap as well, €47 in total for us.
Full up we headed off to do some shopping. After an hour or two of perusing every shop in the winding streets of the marina and a quick couple of drinks at one of the bars we head off to the taxi rank with Michelle being the new owner of a bracelet to match the ring she bought last year, a jewellery box and a fridge magnet. I am carrying a new mug for school.
Taxi queues never fail to amaze and fill me with despair in Ibiza and I have decided it is solely to blame on Italians. The idea of a queue seems totally alien to the nation of mullet sporting colour-clashing white stripe chanting idiots. I love the way they ignore the 100 person strong queue like its just not there. I can’t believe they actually try to stop cabs literally feet away from the end of the queue. Or they just go straight to the front and pretend nothings happened. What’s even more shocking and laughable is the way when confronted they just shrug and tell you to calm down. Calm the **** down, I’ve been in this queue for an hour mate I am willing to die for my place in this line. You can **** the **** off you dooo do do do do dooo dog**** bastards. In fact Italians really piss me off. That chant is ****. They walk down the middle of the road like they are invincible and look confused when you want to drive past them. Nice one mate the pavement was created especially for your pedestrian self, now get the **** on it. They’re worse on mopeds. At one set of lights I was both under and over taken by the bastards in their 1980’s dayglo-sports clothes. Doooo do do doo do do one. And if they’re not driving the twats badly on the road then they’re doing it on the pavement. No wonder their country folk fancy their chances more on the road. And all this accompanied by that ****ing white stripes chant. Italochavs - spaghetti eating twats. And I haven’t even started on their behaviour in the clubs.
Tuesday 8th
We wake up at midday to the tail end of a thunder storm. This typified the weather of our holiday. Easily the ****test I’ve experienced in Ibiza. No two consecutive days of hot Sun. Either cloudy mornings or cloudy evenings, and rain on several occasions. That said the Pine Islands are really green and for a place with no natural fresh water this frequent rainfall must help to keep the island’s natural beauty.
The rain shows no signs of stopping and so to kill time we head to local English Eatery “Mike’s Kitchen.” I am first to criticise people that eat at this type of place every day on holiday but I must admit sometimes I get the craving for some English food. Some English places though are utter hovels. Mike’s Kitchen is as good as they get and dirt cheap. We get two of the biggest breakfasts available and chow down. Breakfast, tea and orange juice costs us €16. The relentless rain shows no sign of slowing down. We retire back to the apartment to sit on the balcony drink some booze and listen to some music, on the way Shell spots a lilo she likes the look of. It’s pink with multicoloured spots. Lilo selection is a very serious part of Michelle’s holiday.
With no option of doing much else we head into San Antonio to do some shopping. With the aim of getting a specific t-shirt I had seen in Pacha’s Ibiza shop. This is the first real encounter we have with the new motorway. Getting across to San Antonio proves to be a nightmare, it takes the best part of an hour. They have made huge inroads into this massive undertaking but it soon became apparent to me that it’s making travelling around certain areas of the island a nightmare to navigate. I pick up the latest Amnesia underground CD but again no luck with the t-shirt. A painful trip to an ATM later and we’re on our way back to the Jabeque. The roads works proving worse on the return journey.
By evening the rain has stopped and the heat has dried the area up, we get ready and walk into Ibiza town ready for 2300 booking at La Toretta.
La Toretta.
My favourite restaurant in Dalt Villa. It has a prime location in the old town. The staff are all polite, friendly, and attentive. The setting is romantic and the food is delicious. Michelle once again wins the taste test with her Beef Carpaccio starter, it’s incredible, raw beef with a balsamic reduction and parmesan shavings. My Octopus salad is great, but doesn’t compete with the beef. I win the main course round though. I have the Cod au Gratin, the cheese sauce is combined with a soft alioli which perfectly accompanies the fish. Michelle has the Sea bream stuffed with sage and Iberian ham. Tasty, but a little dry with no sauce. The final dessert round goes to Shell; warm choc sponge with mango sorbet just edges past my chocolate mousse with orange jelly.
Whilst sitting eating our meal we meat a couple on their 19 and 15th year of visits to Ibiza. I think at first they were shocked to find two young English people that sort life outside of San Antonio but soon it turned out we had lots in common had been to some of the same restaurants and shared a career in teaching.
Our meals came to an end and with a coffee and wine included out bill came to €91, easily worth it for such a pleasant start to the evening. La Toretta is my top-tip for anyone wishing to eat in Dalt Villa ,everything is top class, including the décor inside. Be sure to have a peak in at the table they keep down stairs on your way into the toilet. The stained glass and stone backdrop to that table is awe inspiring.
Carl Cox @ Space
The bill paid we head down into the marina area to visit the space shop, where we get tickets for tonight’s rave. Ready for action we head off to the taxi queue. It’s huge and going no-where fast. A guy approaches.
“You wanna taxi?”
“Yeah, Space, How much?”
“40 euros.”
“No thanks.”
The guy then goes into detail of how an official taxi will cost me €30 anyway. I know it wont having had a €6 taxi to Ibiza town and a €6 euro taxi to space and knowing our hotel was half way. It doesn’t take Hawkings to work out that this journey would be no more than €15 in a real cab.
A rival approaches.
The same conversation occurs except this guy wants €15. Sweet. We’re in. Ten minutes later and we’re in the queue for space. I’ve got to say we’d have been lost without the use of illegal taxis this year. Obviously some try to rip you off but official cabs just seemed scarce at all times, especially when the clubs hit peak hours.
We get into Carl Cox for 1:30am. Ideal time IMO. I’ve been earlier on a few occasions and can just never get into it. On previous occasions I have found the residents to be weak at best, playing pretty bland house music, and there’s been a long wait in between Cox’s sets. As we get there they are just opening the new terrace and people flood in. I don’t know who is playing but they are playing straight up Chicago house. I love it. It’s a genre that’s missing on the island IMO, this set is just what the doctor ordered. We spend an hour or so jackin away to some boompty boomp music with a smattering of acid. In this time said friends are no-where to be seen.
On to inside and John Digweed. He is hammering it out. Bit riffy house music with trademark perfect Digweed mixing. The crowd are loving it. We see the 60 year old superstar DJ Pete Tong shmoozing it up with a bit of totty in the VIP. Incidentally, what is going on with VIP areas in space? I thought this club prided itself on all punters being treated equally. At CC they had the area behind DJ box cordoned off. Totally insane as there were about 8 people in there, and they turned back some people that have obviously paid for VIP access. A totally stupid waste of space in a club short on space on this occasion.
After a quick chill out it’s back to the terrace to see my main draw, D’n’B supremo Roni Size. He is just starting, I think, and plays 7 nation army. Is this a clever move to get it out of the Italians systems? I think so, because after that it’s straight into 3 hours of heavy drum and bass. Mc Dynamite is on Mc’ing duties as Size plays loads of heavy beats. I am loving it. The Heavily Italian crowd are not. There are lots of confused faces stood around and lots of people trying to get into the discotecha. Suits me just fine; plenty of space to do my thang.
We break up time in with Roni Size with frequent trips to the sunset terrace to chill and various attempts to get in to see Cox. The discotecha is like I have never seen it before; unbearably full and as hot as a blast furnace. Towards the end of his set Size tries again to play 7 nation army. There must be no Italians in the place, he has cleared them all out. Dynamite tries starting the chant. No replies. On the 3rd or 4th attempt with no music playing a small crowd do the chant and so Size continues with his last tune. A full on metallic jungle master piece. It’s time to go. Not a taxi in site we decide to walk home. Raving hard to drum and bass in flip flops has ruined my feet.
Wednesday 9th
We wake to be greeted by a Sunny day out at sea. Time to head to the beach. It’s as we leave the hotel we see that half of the island seems covered in thick cloud. No worries as we have the technology in the form of the mighty Panda 4x4. We head north, and then north some more eventually landing at Playa de Figueral. Quite a small beach is enclosed by some small cliffs from the surrounding hills. It’s nice enough and cooled by an off-shore wind. The clouds arrive and then pass and we’re left with a warm day. The sea is clear, warm and refreshing with lots of swimmers.
Hunger returns and we head off to the restaurant Kon Tiki. After a few minutes a really miserable waitress brings over a specials board and a menu. I order drinks in Spanish. Now this is something I know that I can do, I’ve done it loads before and never had huge problems, what I do have problems with sometimes is talking English as I have a reasonably strong accent and tend to talk fast. This waitress though looked at me like I was a piece of ****. I’ve had this a few times when trying to speak Spanish. On the whole it’s met well, appreciated and tolerated, on the odd occasion it gets the exact opposite.
She brings the drinks and takes our food order. I order in English and she has a clue what I have just said. I revert to international sign language and talking slowly and loudly. She doesn’t get it. I ask in Spanish and all of a sudden she can understand me. She is a wopper. I could tell she was just being difficult for the sake of it. She is not getting a tip.
I have the Spanish Salad, which is an average green salad with bits of fried chorizo, fish and squid. Michelle has the seafood salad, which is two fillets of different fish on a bed of lettuce. I win. With sangria and some beers this meal costs us €44.
After dinner we head back to the beach for some sun bathing, lilo-ing and swimming. Well in fact it’s just me does the swimming. Shell won’t go out very deep and prefers to lie on the lilo, ordering me where to drag her. It cracks me up. I take a stroll to a rocky out crop with has lost of people fishing on it. I love watching continentals fishing. They have no idea. Surely people must realise when fishing for fish 3 inches long that you don’t need a hook that would injure a Marlin? We eventually leave the beach at 8pm as the surrounding cliffs cast their shadows to the seas edge.
Back at the pad I make a reservation for Sa Capella. In Spanish. Throb On. With no reservation made for tonight we decide to try our look at Destinos in San Josep. We get in the car and head off. I realise all I know is the name of the bar and that I am not 100% sure it’s even in the town we are going to. We park up and head off towards the main road. I need to visit a cash point and dart over the busy road to visit the Telebanco machine. Worried for Michelle’s safety on the busy road I tell her to use the crossing, as she reaches the crossing she sees our venue 20 meters behind her, on her side.
It’s busy. In fact it’s packed. We go in and the head waitress says she can’t fit us in until 11. We accept the booking and retreat back into the centre of San Josep. To kill time we sit on stool at the bar on the side of the road and have a jug of sangria. The time to eat quickly arrives.
Destinos, San Josep.
I’ve read about this place on spotlight and it seems just the type of establishment I like to try. We’re seated and told they don’t have a menu but that the maitre d would come out and take us in to describe the dishes to us. And she’s right, 5 minutes later a guy asked us to follow him into the bar. He very quickly names all of the dishes and then takes your order. Loads appeal. There are many cold and hot options to pick from. We choose the majority of ours from the hot selection, which are meats and vegetables in various sauces. Another way, like the guys next to us went for, is to pick from the selection of hummus type dips to eat with bread. We opt for; cod stuffed peppers, lamb kebabs with chilli sauce, salted cod with oil and olives, beef in a spicy sauce, turkey in a peanut sauce, leeks in a coconut and chilli sauce and cauliflower and broccoli au gratin. We wash this down with a bottle of the house rose. For desert the waitress brings around a large tray of mini gateaux from which Michelle has a Banana cake and I have a chocolate and cherry one. I have a coffee to round the meal off, which actually I needed as a cool breeze had picked up in the area. We settle the bill of €57 and head off home.
Thursday 9th
We wake up to a sunny day. After sorting ourselves out it’s into the Panda and off to Cala Tarida. This beached was new to us last year and is one of my favourites; lovely golden sand and clear water. It’s a popular place though and when we arrive it’s very busy. We get two sunbeds and spend the majority of the day trying to catch some of the elusive sun. The blister between my toes has burst and I am not keen to move but do venture across the sand to visit Beach Bar Chiniquit. They serve typical fast food, burger and chips etc. I have a kebab with chips and Michelle has a Pizza. Beer and Sangria help quench our first and complete our bill of €39.
More time is spend on the beach until we decide to call it a day and go to buy our cream tickets. We drive straight to PDB and get tickets from the club shop by the pizzeria. We get back to the Jabeque and have a short siesta before its time to get up and head to Sa Capella.
Sa Capella
We’re booked into the restautant at 2200. We leave for it at 2100 and I take the route via San Josep, which gets us there 30 minutes early. After last years parking fiasco I strategically position the Panda in a spot which is practically impossible to get blocked in in…. we’ll see if I am right.
Sa Capella is an incredible setting, Photos fail to do it justice and so will my words. I’ll try by simply saying that if I was going to propose in Ibiza I’d consider doing it here. The waiting staff and management are great, extremely efficient. The menu has numerous dishes that I’d be happy to eat.
This evening I select Beef Carpaccio to start. It’s served with parmesan shavings but lacks the tangy balsamic reduction of la Toretta’s version. Michelle starts with salmon rolls stuffed with a tuna tartare. Nice. I reckon she wins this one. Slightly. For main course we both have what is described in the menu as ox steaks cooked on a baked rock. The waiter brings to our table a paraffin burner, above which sits a slab of rock which holds a bed of tightly packed salt. This is perfect. It’s a fun dish, it’s tasty and you get your meat cooked as you like, you can cook and eat it at you own pace. I know all about this meal, I did want it last year but Michelle really wanted a fish dish and so as this is for 2 people I missed out. After a year of waiting I wasn’t let down. We finish the meal with Banana tart and ice cream and Cheesecake. Both stunning desserts. The bill including a bottle of wine and drinks as aperitif comes to €125.Judge Jules is outside eating with what I can only assume is a gay lover as we leave.
The meal is over in a surprisingly quick time and before long we’re back at the Jabeque with time plenty of time until cream. Feeling full to burst we decide on a rave nap. Unfortunately for me Michelle proves impossible to wake on several occasions and in the end I admit defeat and give up on cream.