6/8/06-20/08/06

alex311279

Active Member
Quick reference:

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.
The 757 plummeted through the thick blanket of clouds. Outside of the windows the vivid green pastures of Lancastrian England were lain out like some king of sodden welcome mat. Within seconds there was a screech and a jolt as the wheels impacted the tarmac, accompanied by a huge increase in noise as the jet engines went into reverse thrust to bring the massive aeroplane to a shuddering halt. Ibiza 2006 was over.

**** 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.
The downsides are that getting a taxi in the local area can be difficult – ring one, and the local area can be difficult but not impossible to park in. The main gripe I did have is that the reception won’t/don’t hold your key for you while you go out. No biggy at all really.

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.
 
Friday 10th
Yes!!! It’s sunny. Off to Benirras. Before we go we pick up some bread, chorizo and cheese for dinner. Benirras is hot. We get some sun beds and start the hard process of chilling the **** out. Which is slightly more difficult than it sounds. I have got a really active mind and I get easily distracted. The thing about most Ibizan beaches is that English voices are in a huge minority and as a result the usual mixture of Italian and Spanish conversations a just a background noise. When I’m by English people I find myself increasingly concentrating on what’s being said. Benirras has a substantial number of English visitors, in fact this year I think more than ever. I think the majority of people there on this visit were Brits. So I am sunbathing, eyes closed, on the point of sleep and a voice draws my attentions. I know this voice. It’s coming from the lounger next to me. It sounds like Jo Whiley. I open an eye. The voice is coming from a woman that looks extremely like Jo Whiley. Anyway I am 99% sure it was Jo Whiley with her family and father-in law. If it was then I can say I have seen her camels toe. Nice.

After a homemade bocadillo for lunch we amble over to a beach side bar for a cooling jug of sangria. The ****er sets me back €20. Here we see a hippy-off.

The account that follows may be 100% fabrication by myself but this is how I saw it.

We’re sat in the bar and in front of us are two hippy chicks chilling out. Over sidles a wiry looking hippy guy. I would give him a hippy rating of 5 Neils. He looked a lot like Mr Burns from The Simpsons, wearing a cheese cloth granddad shirt and a crap sarong. He has worryingly short hair for a hippy. He sits himself by a chick. I tell Shell to watch this as I am certain he will make a move. He does but he struggles. He rolls a joint while chatting to the girl. He offers her it. She doesn’t smoke weed. He starts talking about eating meat. D’oh. Turns out these girls are veggies. Defeated on all fronts the wiry hippy leaves. He enters the bar. A Benirras super hippy who is apparently called Brian arrives. Brian gets a Neil rating of 10. He is wearing a sarong and sandals, no top and his hair is so long he has it ties into a sport of top knot. He also sounds like Del Jones from Wayne’s World 2. The wiry hippy is looking to see Brian, I believe to score or arrange something, maybe even to just try and be his friend.

They start to talk. It’s obvious from the start Brian doesn’t rate this chancer, in fact he stares out to sea as the wiry hippy stands at his side trying to talk to him. The wiry hippy asks about a night out and asks Brian “will you be taking drugs?” Obviously a stupid question as Brian pulls a face like he has smelt a bad fart and says “of course.” The wiry hippy continues asking if some guy can get some **** or other. Fart face by Brian again as he replies “of course he’s the biggest dealer in Ibiza.” Brian wants out. Mr Burns turns away momentarily. Brian makes his move and is gone, off to talk a young hippy girl into a session of tantric sex I imagine. I told Shell to watch out for Burns’ moment of confusion that was about to occur and right on cue….Burns turns around and to his amazement Brian is no where to be seen. He doesn’t know what to do, he looks around and then accepts his rejections and leaves. Who’d be a hippy hey?

We leave Benirras at 6pm and head back towards base camp. At this point I look at the fuel needle. We must be running of fumes. It’s a race to San Rafael to fill up. This little panda was a right fuel guzzler. I can see why people are so against big SUVs. I had to fill up the panda 3 times in 2 weeks during our stay. We make it safe to San Rafael and then head onto the Jabeque.

Tijuana

I’d been slack on making reservation and so again we find ourselves with no where to eat. We decide to head over to San An for Tijuana. Again using the San Josep route and get into San An for 2200. We get a table at a filling Tijuana and are served by a girl with an attitude that well out-weighed her position as a waitress in a Tex-Mex restaurant.

We share 3 starters of chicken wings, breaded chicken and potato skins, which are quite tasty but taste highly processed compared to the food we’d eaten previously. Shell has the Chicken Fajita for main and I have boccadillo. We pass on desert and settle the € 58 bill. Next year I won’t be going to Tijuana the food it too processed and there isn’t much substance to the place apart from the Blackpool style interior.

Pure Pacha

After dinner we pop into the west end and get tickets from the Pacha shop and with it still being early we decide on having a drink in a bar. We go into the tiny bar, Tropical on the strip where a DJ is playing some uber euphoric trance. The bar is empty apart from two raving English youths. One is peaking hard. It’s 2330 and this guy is gurning like a bastard. He kept kneeling on this tall stool panting hard shouting “come on” to absolutely no-one. It was a lovely site.

I was a bit apprehensive about going to Pure Pacha, I think Pete Tong can play some good music but as of late the stuff he has been championing had been a bit bland in my opinion, also he is crap at mixing. Well I have to admit I was wrong on both counts. Tong was playing via a laptop, I dunno how much he was using this or what program he was using but he didn’t drop a beat in either of his sets, there wasn’t a sign of the tunes going out of time at all. Also the stuff he played left out the dross that pops up on his show.

We arrived at Pacha close to 2am with Tong about to start the first of his 2 sets, the majority of time spent flitting between various parts of the main room and the roof terrace. I’ve got to say I love Pacha, it’s my favourite club on the island by a long shot. I often read about it’s snobby, pretentious crowd, but yet every time I go I fail to see this and the main room, regardless of who is playing, becomes a right royal rave up.

So we’re sitting off on the roof top terrace not long after arriving. I’ve just paid €25 for a JD and coke and a water. ****ing €10 for a water. That’s the same price as a San Miguel. Disgusting. Well anyway, I am at the bar and this Mikey from Big Brother Look-a-Like. I retreat with the drinks and tell Michelle to get on to the Mikey clone. It turns out that this guy is actually Vernon Kaye, out with sexual wife Tess Daly. So that’s Jules, Tong, Whiley and Kaye we’ve seen out socially. I was revelling at the thought of which R1 DJ would be next, maybe we’d see Westwood nude on Formentera, or Westwood off his face at Gatecrasher. I didn’t care where it was but I was just hoping to see the Big Dog in some crazy scenario.

Lawler started at 4am in the main room of Pacha. A set of sheer quality. After being a big fan of Lawler I found the route he was going with the electro house a bit boring, over the past year or so I’ve seen him a couple of times but not really digged his whole set, but this was amazing. I hate the term dirty house but this was filthy, climaxing with a remake of Radiohead’s Street Spirit. The main room of Pacha was going off something rotten. Tong came on again at 6 and continued to belt out the big tunes until finishing at 7:45am. Tong never quite captured the intensity of Lawlers set but it was certainly interesting enough to keep up going right until the death. A short trip in a shared illegal taxi later and we’re on our way to bed.

Saturday 11th

It’s ****ing cloudy again when we wake up, but it’s OK as today we plan on going to the Hippy Markey at Las Dalias. Last year I was disappointed with the one at Es Canar, it was full of lucky lucky men selling fake designer shades and after that experience I didn’t hold much hope for this one.

Setting off at around 1pm we call into McDonalds for a spot of breakfast, which all I can do is look at in my tender state. We head north towards and through Santa Eulalia towards the market which is located in a village called San Carles. A big queue of traffic awaits us but it turns out there ample parking right by the market.

The whole vibe here is a lot more what I was after, not a lucky lucky man in sight but plenty of traders selling unique clothes made of linen and cheese cloth, others selling natural beauty products or quirky handmade gadgets. We make our way around the stalls and buy Michelle a kaftan style dress for the beach and set of fairy lights. After a 2hr stay I was still feeling pretty rough and so we made our way back the Jabeque for some R&R.

Cellar C’an Pere

Getting up at 9pm feeling really refreshed we decided on heading back to Santa Eulalia. We aimed straight for the road of restaurants and chose to go Cellar C’an Pere. I rate this restaurant highly, it’s probably the “classiest” on that street touching on fine dining at a reasonable price. The service is great and very attentive but not as to encroach on your evening. Fish dishes are the pick of the menu in my opinion. The selection of starters is pretty weak. I chose the garlic prawns with Shell going for the Vegetable soup. The prawns arrived as usual in a bowl of sizzling oil, which continued to boil for several minutes after serving. The soup which is served at the table is a light and IMO verged on bland. For main course I have the grilled Angler Fish which is served with a simple green salad, Michelle has the steak in pepper and mustard sauce which is very good but doesn’t beat my grilled fish. The dessert menu is another weakness, none real capture your interest and make me think of the 80’s for some reason. I have the pineapple icecream, which although not very inspiring is very tasty. Michelle finishes with the banana flambee. With coffee and a bottle of rose the bill comes in at €99. This is probably a better restaurant than I have made it sound. The menu could so with revamping, but the few dishes on there that do appeal are done very well. The problem with this menu is that very few things really excite you, unlike some places were you could gladly pick from most dishes, on this one I think there are definite areas that need looking at.

With the bill settled we head off back towards the car, on the way we find a fiesta going off in the town square. A DJ is playing Spanish pop songs and 50’s and 60’s rock and roll classics to a big crowd to local families. It’s great to see everyone enjoying themselves and we hang around for a bit to soak up the atmosphere and bust out a bit of the twist. It’s sad to think but I just couldn’t see this happening at home. I can’t imagine families going out together for a thing like this in the town centre of Birkenhead or Liverpool, across the age groups as well. And I just can’t see English people dancing around without having to have had a skin full of ale, or the event being marred by local scallies ruining it. Maybe I just have little faith in today’s English society.

After leaving Santa Eulalia we drive into Ibiza town and park in shady car park by the BP garage. The Spanish air is flowing through my veins as I park the panda with one wheel precariously positioned on a pallet in a ditch. After finally securing the car we get out to see the car next to us has a lone guy sat in the dark. Nothing out of the ordinary there. Into town we go. We make another reservation at La Torretta to eat with friends and stroll around the shops. We stumble upon the Calle de la Virgen, a street we’ve only seen during the day before. At night it’s like a queer version of Harry Potter’s “Diagon Alley.” We amble through the winding alley way passing various bars and boutiques until we head to a shop with some wetsuit trousers hanging outside. “ah Shell,” I exclaim,
“here’s some wetsuit pants I am after.” I reach out for the bottoms turn them around and ‘hello there’ there’s a little wetsuit penis extension built in. Incredible. We move on. We go back into the Pacha shop to check if the t-shirt I am after has been re-stocked. It hasn’t but we leave with a new bag and address book for Michelle. I try my Spanish out when asking about the bag.

“How much?”
“yyreyyffhi 50 kewywqeyewi”
“It’s 50-something euros Shell, do you want it?”

We get to the till and the bit I had failed to pick up at the beginning of the assistants sentence was one hundred. €160 lighter we leave the shock, I mean shop, I am in shock, the shop is fine. A Ben and Jerry’s and a McPiss later and we walking back to the car.

I notice as we get to the car that the loner in the car next to us is still there. There surrounding area is desolate and I am pretty nervous carrying a **** load of money, having found a ATM that works. I am half expecting this guy to get out of his car wearing those wet suit pants, to rob and rape me and leave me crying in the ditch the panda could fall into at any second. He doesn’t and I am in the car safe. Doors locked just in case. I start trying to reverse off this pallet. The 4 wheel drive is straining and I can smell the burning clutch. I get the Panda off the pallet but the car is in a tight spot. Then the loner starts up his engine and reverses at us. The next 5 minutes are spent in a strange series of manouvres and counter manouvres with this weirdo. I am now almost certain at this point that he is wearing those pants. We escape, drive home and sleep.

Sunday 12th

It’s ****ing cloudy again when we get up. Where the **** is the Sun? After a quick trip to the shops we spy a break in the clouds towards the south and so that’s the direction we head. We turn of the road and head for Porroig. Porroig is a small strip of shingle. We move on.

On various maps we see some list es Cubells as a beach and some as not. We drive in that direction to check it out. Some stunning scenery awaits us as we drive west along a road that hugs the southerly cliffs. We drive past some luxurious villages and reach Es Cubells; a small village made up of exclusive looking properties. We see the brown sign that read Playa de Es Cubells. Onward. I don’t know if we missed a turn off but the road eventually lead straight into someone’s driveway. A 5-point turn later and we’re heading back out towards San Josep.

Our journey ends at Cala Bassa. I love this beach. It’s very popular and gets full to bursting but I love the look of the cove, the rock and the sea always seems so blue. It turns to be a reasonably hot day but our late arrival means the only loungers are in quite a shaded area. Luckily we’ve brought bread and chorizo with us at the only thing lacking here is a decent restaurant. The few establishments we check out all serve burgers and chips, which isn’t bad except they generally look filthy. We spend the next few hours lying about and swimming in the sea which is unusually cold. Shell gets stung by a jelly fish but will not let me piss on her leg. I continually offer my services. I want to piss on her. Injured, we head back to the Jabeque where I prove I am master of the bat and ball.

Rias Biaxes.

A bold statement but I would go as far as saying this is Ibiza’s best fish restaurant. It’s high class establishment in all areas. The menu is strong in all departments and I can’t believe this place is slap bang in the middle of San An. If your in San An with no car and no desire to travel but after a very good dining experience then here is for you.

There’s loads on the menu that take my fancy, all exciting and my mouth is watering at the prospect of eating. I choose the Galician Mussels to start. A huge dish of big mussels cooked in wine, herbs and spice. This is divine. Perfectly seasoned, tasty, I can’t help but mop up the remaining liquor with some bread. Michelle starts with the scallops. I’ve had these before. They’re A1 but don’t come close to my mussels. For main we have the oven baked John Dory. Thirty minutes after ordering the waiter brings the tray straight from the oven and serves us at the table side. The fish is baked with par boiled potatoes which soak up the sauce of which flavours I can pick out are onions, bay leaf and pepper. The highlight is the huge John Dory which is sitting in the pan. The waiter carefully removes the fillets which fall of the bone and coats them in lashings of the remaining sauce. Stuffed with the huge main course we take a while to digest the food and the dessert menu. There’s no sign of weakness here. The deserts are top class. I have the dark chocolate mousse with minted strawberries and Michelle has the hot profiteroles. Two bottles of wine and a coffee complete our bill which comes to €130.

We Love Sundays @ Space

Ready to burst we walk into the west end to get some Space tickets, which we pick up from the Café Mambo shop. We pop back into Tropical for a quick drink. It’s rave central yet again. A huge gang of fun-boys come in and start raving hard from the off. I am cracking up watching a stripey t-shirt clad scall bust out the robot followed by a moonwalk. No one is watching him except for me, he just does it because it feels great. Awesome.

We get to space for 1am and I am distraught as we bump into a friend that tells us Mills has cancelled. What’s worse is the prospect of David Guetta standing in for him. I am considering leaving. It’s made worse when we go into the Terrace and hear tepid house music producer Bob Sinclar play atrocious anthem “World Hold On.” I am close to tears until we go into the discotecha and Tiefschwarz start to play some belters. They aren’t as good as the previous week but still manage to bang it out. At one point a huge white sheet is passed across the crowd. The lights come on and the ice cannon blasts through the cover. Sweet.

Mills arrives in the DJ box; an awesome wave washes over me. Michelle hates techno. She especially hates Jeff Mills. I love him, and he doesn’t disappoint. Percussive, groovy Detroit techno at it’s best. Hypnotic and deep. I love it. He plays a few housey crowd pleaser, Inner city – Big Fun, Man with the Red Face, French kiss, Knights of Jaguar and I go insane as I hear him mix in the intro to The Bells. On the terrace 2manyDJs are playing their standard set, all good fun, we catch Silver Screen and Blue Monday but the room is too pack to enjoy the music. At this point Michelle starts to feel ill, so we make our move.

Monday 13th

The lost day. We planned on sleeping late and then going to DC10, followed by a trip to Cocoon. Unfortunately Michelle is ill and wants to stay in bed all day. She finally rises at 7pm, not wanting to go to Circo Loco. I am starving so on the way back from the pharmacy we call into Mike’s Kitchen for steak pie, chips peas and gravy.

After eating Michelle retires back to bed again. I take the time to do a bit of washing. When she wakes she is looking much better and so we decide to head into Ibiza town. Last year we bought my mum a present of a sangria jug from Fransico Prats Crockery shop in the marina area. We decide to complete some of the matching sets and end up leaving with a big box full of various plates and bowls. Michelle has decided when we get our own place we’ll have to visit the shop for our own crockery and for those number tiles you see so often on the island.

At this point we’re on 90% going to cocoon, but by the time we get back to the pad Michelle is feeling poorly again. We’d forgotten to take the phone into Ibiza town and so some friends are waiting in PDB for us after DC10 to head to cocoon together. By the time we go to meet them cocoon is a 100% no-go. I’m up for a rave but it’s not going to happen. So we drop off said friends at amnesia and head back to Es Vive. Starving again we call in at Coco-Roco where we get ½ chicken, chips and gravy. I take this fast food back to the apartment, devour it and retire, ****ing full.​
]Tuesday 14th
No surprises as we wake up to an overcast day. For breakfast we go into Ibiza Town and aim for the Croissant Show. The counter inside holds host to a glorious supply of baked treats both sweet and savoury. I fancy something savoury and choose a quiche, Michelle fancies something sweet and lets me choose for her. I select a slice of a very tasty looking cherry pie. It’s 2pm by now and behind me in the queue is a disco casualty. He is struggling to get a selection of small coins out if his pockets. In fact his appearance is disgusting.

Fuelled and ready for action we decide on heading up towards the cathedral. Last year we took a route that took in a few strange corridors cut into the rocks and walls. This year we tried to find a new route through the streets. When we got there the cathedral turned out to be shut and so there’s nothing to do apart from make our way down. As like last year we stopped off for a drink at the strange tiny bar with the odd bar man that painstakingly methodically took down the price of the drinks we bought. Again we walked down then picture postcard street “Calle Conquista,” at the bottom of which we noticed a new trend for drawing handprints on the wall of the hotel. I am not sure whether I agree or disagree with it tbh. A few turns and staircases later and we emerge out of the western side of the citadel.

Bora Bora

It’s still quite overcast and pretty early, there are hours to kill before our 11pm booking at La Torreta. It’s perfect time to hit Bora Bora. We get to PDB and get to the beach bar just as things are staring to warm up. We get a table and have some drinks. There is some great people watching to be done.

First up is this Beckham like character, he’s got the full Bora Bora kit; Havaiana’s, large tattoo, fan, huge shades and a killer pout. This guy is the king of clubs and knows it. He is the only person dancing. His pout so strong it’s almost like a face they pull in those gurning contests. He accompanies his pout with a fancy dance which encorporates his fan. Whilst doing this he is looking around to see who’s looking. I am. We make eye contact a few times, now he knows I am watching him and he now can’t look back otherwise he’ll know that I know that he is looking to see who’s looking at him. I continue to watch him until my attention is distracted.

At the table next to us is a group of girls that also have all the kit, they’re got their sangria and are chain smoking. A curly haired stud, that’s had his afro-esque shaped into a mullet walks over. I can hear what he says. It turns out that the bar maid actually made him an extravagant cocktail by mistake when he just wanted a beer and he thought these girls might like it. He retreats. He’ll be back in 5 I tell Shell. Like a fisherman checking his nets, loverboy reappears. He starts his courtship. What I notice then is something verging on pathetic. The chain smoking girls offer loverboy a refreshing cigarette, which he accepts and then proceeds to hold on to unlit for the next 30 minutes. He even has an unlit drag a few times. On several occasions he gets a lighter and is so close to lighting this that it’s untrue, but conversation just happens to distract him. Eventually the un-smoked cigarette mysteriously disappears. Chain smoking girl is on her 3rd or 4th by now and offers him another. Our obviously non-smoking loverboy gratefully accepts again and the process is repeated until chain smoking girl lights it for him. Oh ****. He is going to have to smoke this bastard. Luckily he needs a toilet break and comes back seconds later minus said offending item. He probably did get to back scuttle one of these girls later. They definitely seemed very impressed when he regaled stories of frequenting school disco doing an arse slapping dance.

I got into a bit of a stare out with one of the girls when at one point she took off her giant shades to reveal the eyes of someone really fug dup. Unfortunately for me she heard every word as I remarked to shell “****ing hell she needs to put the shades back on. Look at the state of her eyes.” Oh dear. Bora Bora was in full flow by now and there was nothing else to do apart from get up on a table and get on with it. Peakin’ when the DJ played John Dahlback’s Nothing is Real. Peckish we left the revellers to go and pick up some pizza’s from the jet complex.

That night we meet up with friends and eat at D’alt Villa I have the carpaccio which isn’t as good as the previous week, but is more than compensated for by the excellent main course; Rack of lamb with a rosemary and sesame jus. Michelle has the melon and prawn summer salad followed by my last week’s main course of cod au gratin. We pass on desert and split the €140 euro bill in half with the other couple.

We head off to show them the delights of Ibiza town at night. I am particularly keen to show them the wet suit pants. When we get to the shop the first pair are accompanied by another pair, with the same penis extension but this time with the arse ravaged out the back. Nice. I am certain that these were being worn by the guy in the car park the other night.

Wednesday 16th

Up at 12 it looks to be a glorious day. After quickly getting the stuff together we head of to Puerto de San Miguel. I’d forgotten how nice this beach is. It’s a commercial version of Benirras, with a similar environment but more hotels embedded around the cove.

After setting up our stall with pangs of hunger stirring in our stomachs we head for the restaurant Port Balansat. This place is popular. Every table on the terrace is booked. We’re seated inside and before long every table in the establishment is occupied. We have a paella, which is massive but brilliant and we spend the next 30 minutes eating chunks of chicken and sucking the sweet meat from the legs of a crab. Paella and sangria here costs €37.

Content with our meal we head back to the beach to catch some rays, but as predictable as something that’s really predictable we’re soon covered by a blanket of cloud. The wind picks ups and that’s enough for us to call it a day and return back to the Jabeque.

England are playing this evening and I decide I’d like to see a bit of the game. There are a few English bars on the main road and we go to the first we walk past, Moby Dicks. It’s a typical English pub. Not that you’d step foot in a place like this in England. A dark dingy basement, but on a plus point it has got a big screen. The only problem is the big screen is showing the Irish game. I’ve bought a drink already when I realise this. The England game is on upstairs. Upstairs is actually just a few plastic chairs and a TV set. What do people think when they set up these “British” bars. What is their though process? “I know I will make a nice airy, clean establishment that serves Brits with familiar beverages but in a classy environment. Actually scrap that I will recreate a 17th century gin house and decorate is with hand painted signs and John Smiths lights. We walked past a few English bars and there was literally no-one in them. Ever.

Subliminal Sessions and the Pacha Restaurant

We’re a bit late for our 11pm booking at Pacha and so stop for a taxi at Figuretes. There’s a queue of 3 and we’re 3rd. 3 people in a queue, that’s 3 people too long for most Italians and again we have to tell several groups to **** off. At one point a cab arrives and a wired woman appears from no-where and tried to get in it. She is thwarted and walks off mouthing a few choice words. Not that I could tell. We’re first in the queue. No taxis turn up for 10 minutes. Some turn up quite close to drop off and some Italians run from the queue to get in them and repeatedly the drivers allow it, despite being yards from the rank and a waiting queue. Twenty minutes have passed and we’re going no where. And once again the illegal taxi service comes to our aid and thanks to Alex Fischer DJ bookings and VIP shuttle services we’re at Pacha just 10 minutes late. The table is ready but not all of our party of 6 is and so we take some drinks in the attached annexe. When all is right we head to our table.

Pacha is my favourite restaurant on the island. As you’d expect everything is top notch. The service is warm and attentive, the setting is cool as you like and the food is brilliant. I start with the Lobster salad which had the meat from a whole lobster dressed with a sublime garlic and lemon vinaigrette. This is a great dish and relatively cheap at €25, it is a whole lobster. Michelle starts with the Seafood ravioli with prawns. I’d have been happy to have this and even a large portion as a main. But, for me for main course it’s monkfish with bacon and peas. The salty bacon works so well with the meaty fish. Michelle has the hake stuffed with seafood, another brilliant dish. There’s some space left for desert and so we share an extremely chocolaty sponge with mango sorbet. We retire back to the annexe with another set of drinks and await the bill which including the 3 bottles of wine we’ve had comes to €450. With our drinks not finished we walk into Subliminal Sessions at 2am. €75 each for 2 drinks, and an outstanding 3 course meal with wine and a night in Pacha, must be the biggest bargain on the island.

Subliminal is as good as ever with Morillo playing all the usuals (God put a smile on my face, the egg – walking away, Rej, Dopplewhipper, Higher state of consciousness, big love, Lenny Kravitz – are you gonna go my way) while pulling his cum-face. Loads of peak-worthy moments ensue interspersed with some sketchy adventuring of the Labyrinth-esque Pacha. I am in the funky room and know I want out by the main room. I am heading towards where I can see I need to be and that guy from base or rock that wears the crazy hat stops me. “No mate, I am going this way.” He stops me again. I try to pass and he stops me again. I then realise the door I can see is a reflection and he is actually stopping me walking into a mirror. Deary me.

We stay right until the bitter and then make our way our in to the blinding light. We join the Taxi queue and start the same rigmarole of bartering with illegal drivers and telling Italians to do one. At one point a mini mafia man does that throat cutting sign at me after I tell him to get lost. I wave and give him my own take on the white stripe chant.
 
Thursday 17th

I am ill. Dehydration I reckon. I sleep for an age without a drink and when I do wake up I feel nauseous. I make it to Mike’s Kitchen for a scran but feel light headed as soon as its finished. Back to bed. Gutted I wasted a whole day.

Friday 18th

It’s 9:30am when I wake. I feel fresh and reinvigorated, this day is not going to be wasted, but as usual is cloudy. We ponder what to do while I ravage a huge full English. By the time I am finished the weather has picked up slightly. Off to Formenterra it is.

Getting to the island is a quandary. There is a boat that takes an hour leaving from just behind the hotel in 10 minutes. €16 one way. So an hour and ten to get there, or we could go to the port and get a ferry which takes 35 minutes, but we have to get to the port which will take time. In the end we decide to go to Ibiza town. I drive there and we park on the waste ground by the BP garage. A guy approaches. I’ve paid in other places off a night time but never here and not during the day. It turns out he wants €2 an hour. I tell him that’s too much and that I’ll move it. He compromises and I give him about €5 in shrapnel. I know this guy is unofficial and would get told to **** off by a local but I needed somewhere to park and I recall the how kids in Liverpool would mind cars for you at Anfield. I don’t want to return to a damaged car or to actually have to move it so I am happy to pay. We head off to the Marina. A boat is due to leave in 10 minutes and so we pay our €30 each for a return ticket and we’re off. Two years ago Michelle and I went parasailing and she proved she hasn’t got very good sea legs, or more precisely a sea belly and as a result she puked up all over San Antonio harbour. So I was hoping it’d be a calm trip to Formenterra and it was for a while, but quite a big swell started to throw our little boat all over the place. Nothing too bad but I could see Michelle feeling every bump and roll.

Forty five minutes later and we’re docking at the port in Formenterra. What next? I have no idea. I don’t know what any thing is called except for one bar who’s website I have been on. Some taxi queue antics later and we’re heading out to Blue Bar which apparently is on Playa de Migjorn. We arrive at the bar and head straight to the beach there are a few people dotted around immediately by the bar but vast expanses either way with not soul in site. We turn left and start to walk. About 500 meters up the beach forms a natural little cove, this looks perfect and so we set up camp. The golden sand fades out into crystal clear water which is a foot deep for 20 meters or so into the sea. The next people to us are probably 200 meters to the left and 50 meters to our right. The couple at our right contains a fat nude man that spends a lot of time cooling his large testicles in the lapping waves. At one point Michelle tells me he has just stood up to reveal a large bone on which he goes into the sea to hide. Odd things nudists, usually fat old men, one guy walking down the beach had trainers and sock on and a hat. Very sensible wearing a hat mate, brings a whole new meaning to slip, slop, slap. Why wear a hat if you risk sun-burning your pink Darth Vader? Over the rest of the day the beach fills up slightly including a family that set up literally 3 meters away from us. Odd choice seeing as there’s so much space.

As I am relaxing a thought comes to mind. It starts with a memory. The episode of Ibiza Uncovered where the rubber fetishist gay gets on a rubber boat party and heads to Formentera and where the boat drops of its cargo of gimps who wade to shore to party hard. I cant help of thinking what if that happened today, a boat draws up and like a scene from creature from the black lagoon or something I look out to sea and see a herd of sex slaves emerge from the crystal clear waters. I wish I’d bought those trousers. Not the arse ravaged ones.

Blue Bar, Formentera

For dinner we head to the Blue bar. Could the staff here be any more miserable? I doubt it. We’re served by a waiter with a weathered face. Michelle orders a steak well done and I order the grilled sea bream. The steak arrives rare with chips that had been cooked to the point of non-existence. The Bream looks nice but I gladly swap it with Shell who hates really rare steak. It’s a big chunk of meat and it’s fairly tasty. It’s an average meal over all. The bill with a couple of drinks each comes to €60. We are stuck by this bar with no way of getting to the port but I don’t want to give these miserable ****ers the opportunity to say no if I ask them to ring a taxi. The whole vibe I got from this place was that they just wanted you to leave.

We head back to our little camp and after an hour of more sunbathing we decide to try and search out a way back to the port. There’s a likely looking hotel about a mile away and so we start to paddle in that direction. At times we head into the dunes. The place is crawling with lizards. It’s awesome, some are pretty big and you can get quite close to them. The Steve Irwin in me wants to catch one and stick my thumb up its butt hole. I managed to resist as we continue our way along the beach. We arrive at the hotel and as I’m about to call a taxi, one magically pulls up. We make it back to the port with 5 minutes to spare. The return journey is more of the same but with a great opportunity to look as the views of the approaching Ibiza. The hills are unbelievably green and some of the cliffs are stunning when viewed from the sea. There’s also chance to see Es Vedra and Es Vedranell in side profile. When we get back to the Jabeque I realise I have picked up some sun burn after finally seeing a whole day of uninterrupted heat.

Home Loos

On our ventures into Ibiza we regularly passed a small tapas bar that was consistently full of diners. We kept it in mind and decided that with not having a reservation for tonight it’d be a good chance to try it out. On our way to Home Loos we pass a few residential blocks, tonight though there is a bit of shouting from one and without my glasses I struggle to see what’s going on. Michelle informs me. On the top floor a woman is over the balcony threatening to jump. A morbid curiosity sets in, but deciding that seeing a woman plummet 200ft to her death might put me off my imminent tapas we move on. We arrive at Home Loos and within minutes I am ordering Estrella y uno licor de meloconton con zumo de naranaja. The tapas menu looks good and the food is nice we share tapas of chicken satay, piri piri prawns, patatas bravas, shish kebab, calamari, pollo de ajo, meatballs, Spanish omelette and stuffed peppers. With more drinks the bills comes to €51. I don’t think I’d go back to this place for an evening meal, but I’d certainly have lunch here if we were in the vicinity. The food was good enough but I think I prefer to eat in a nicer setting not on the main road of Figuretes.

Saturday 19th

Our last full day arrives. We’re up at 10:30 and with supplies of chorizo and bread in hand we head in search of a beach. We arrive at Sa Caleta, it’s picturesque but not what we’re after. We do take a moment to absorb the stunning scenery. The sea is looking a mixture of a vibrant turquoise and a deep sapphire blue. But is onwards for us and to Cala Jondal again. I am eager to have the mussels one last time before we depart.

The beach is almost empty when we arrive and we manage to get sun beds right by the sea. I spend 10 minutes absorbing the panorama before settling into some last efforts at catching the sun. Unfortunately the burning I got yesterday comes into play and I am forced under the cover of a parasol.

As the afternoon approaches we again make our way to Es Savine. The service is poor. We wait 10 minutes for some attention. I order drinks. It’s 20 minutes until they take our food orders. That’s Ok because the food is worth the wait. Across the terrace from us a commotion starts. A large English guy comes storming after a waiter. We hear his conversation. Apparently he has been waiting 2 hours for his food. A look at our watch and it turns out we’ve actually been waiting an hour ourselves. I ask the waitress where the food is and she said it’ll be 5 minutes. After another drink it doesn’t arrive and so I decide we can’t wait there all day and go in to cancel.

The head waiter takes me into the kitchen and points to a range. I can’t tell what is what, but he says our food is cooking and seeing as it is being prepared I cannot cancel without paying. No way Pedro. He seems to think an hour and twenty five minutes is an acceptable time to wait for a single course. I insist it’s not. Finally he agrees to me just paying for the drinks. I settle up and leave, a bit sad that 2 hours of our last day have been spent wasted sitting for food that wasn’t going to arrive.

We head into PDB to get some presents and La Sirena provides us with a catapult for my nephew, a sarong for my sister-in-law, a foot massager for my other sister-in-law, footballs for my niece and nephew, some glittery bangs for 2 more nieces and 2 little spirit barrel things for my bros. We nip over to the licor store opposite Coco’s to get my Bro’s a bottle of Southern Comfort and JD to put in their new thing. I pick up a bottle of absinthe for another nephew. This might not be a responsible decision, we’ll see. Just Nephew left to buy for but he’s a 17 year old with absolutely no interests apart from internet computer games.

Ama Lur

I am starving after the no-show fiasco and so we pop into McDonalds where I know I will be eating within 5 minutes of entering the establishment. I need to be careful though as we have a 2200 reservation at Ama Lur.

It’s 2140 and we’re on the San Miguel road which is home to Ama Lur. It’s reputed at Ibiza best restaurant. I have no idea what to expect. It’s going to take a hell of a lot to beat the total dining experience at Pacha. I’ve passed Ama Lur many times and from the outside its very understated. I think I am expecting something quite rustic on the inside but I couldn’t have been more wrong. This is the real deal, fine dining at its best. The décor as you enter is 5 star. The manager escorted us through to the dining area which is in a glassed off terrace area to the side of the building. The whole dining room is plush and we pick a table away from the wall.

The waitress arrives and asks if we want drinks. I ask for a Mojito which they can’t make. No sweat. Michelle wants Schnapps and OJ. The leathery waitress seems never to have heard of this and pulls a face of sheer contempt. This is the only downside to this restaurant. I found the waitresses to have massive attitudes; very cold, stand-offish and generally unhappy to help or be doing what they do. The clientele of Ama Lur is obviously wealthy; it was like a scene from the film of American Psycho. I’ve often wondered who actually buys there extravagant dresses you see on the catwalk and these people answered my question. With this in mind I get the impression that the waitresses feel they’re part of this wealthy elite, too important to be serving you food. The maitre D was the exact opposite, welcoming and happy to be of service. I don’t know if it is a slight paranoia but maybe I thought that maybe they were unhappy to be serving a young English couple. For example they often made the rounds topping up peoples wine, but not once did it for us. Maybe that’s just a coincidence because I was conscious of their attitude. What I am 100% sure of is that is does detract in a small way from the overall experience of the restaurant.

The food is outstanding though. For starters Michelle has the Scampi tempura and scampi ravioli which is slightly better than my beef carpaccio with mango and strawberry vinaigrette. For mains Michelle has the cod in orange sauce which doesn’t come close to my Lamb with red wine and mint sauce. The lamb is 2 large potions of rolled boned shoulder. The sauce is an intensely reduced jus which is verging on being too salty. I love salt on my food and this was close to being to salty for me but it was just on the button. We round the meal of with an orange soufflé for myself and chocolate sponge with orange ice cream for Michelle. With wine and coffee the bill totalled at €133.

Had the service been better I would say that this place is the best restaurant on the island, but for me it is surpassed by Pacha purely on this matter. That said it is a brilliant restaurant, a classy environment with good food.

Full from Ama Lur I am considering going to space as the MoS has put on a very tasty line up to celebrate it’s birthday. We head to PDB having decided to get my hard-to-buy-for nephew a small bottle of hierbas. After getting the liquor we finally decide to give space a miss and head back to the Jabeque.


With some Cruzcampo from the fridge I sit on the balcony watching the planes fly in as out last evening on the White Isle passes.

Sunday 20th

We get up at 930 with stuff to do. I need to wash the car and hoover it out. There is a severe lack of places open with the correct functioning equipment and time is ticking on. Finally I find a place that has a functioning car wash and we can progress.

There’s time for just one last full English at Mike’s Kitchen before we’re heading towards the airport and Hiper. Dropping the car off was a painless exercise, it took probably 5 minutes tops and before you know it we’re in the queue at the check-in gate.

The flight home was pretty uneventful but I did realise I have managed to not get a single sign of the Ibiza flu. I recon this to be down to the fact that I didn’t go in the hotel pool. I saw a watchdog program or something similar about the state of holiday pools and the fact they hardly ever tend to get disinfected.

Summary

The weather was really disappointing it’s the first time I have ever been to Ibiza and not had 2 consecutive really sunny days. This was my 5th trip to the island and I have already booked next year. The way I look at it there are still things that I haven’t done and place that I definitely want to visit again while I am young.

We or certainly I planned to do more clubbing this year but I think we managed to match last years total of 5 clubs in the fortnight. It’s a shame because it just sort of petered out towards the end when I actually wanted to get out more. Next Year I definitely will make it to DC10 and Cocoon.

I love eating out in Ibiza and I think my top 3 restaurants in order would be 1)Pacha 2) Rias Baixes 3) Ama Lur. There are restaurant that I wanted to go to this year but failed to get to such as Sa Caleta, L’Elephant, La Casita and Can Berri Vell.

Total dosh spend this year whilst on the island this year, between the 2 of us, around £2800. For me worth every penny.

Role on Ibiza 2007 when we’ll be returning to the Jabeque but this time with my parents in tow…
 
fantastic review!! :eek:

Last year we bought my mum a present of a sangria jug from Fransico Prats Crockery shop in the marina area. We decide to complete some of the matching sets and end up leaving with a big box full of various plates and bowls. Michelle has decided when we get our own place we’ll have to visit the shop for our own crockery and for those number tiles you see so often on the island.
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Starving again we call in at Coco-Roco where we get ½ chicken, chips and gravy. I take this fast food back to the apartment, devour it and retire, ****ing full.
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Looks like a good read, I'm still wading through nostrum's piece, this is next, printing off as I type :)

Some excellent reviews again this year, in fact they are simply getting better and better every year.
 
great review, I read it piece by piece over the day and had to chuckle quite a bit.

we´ll fly in about two weeks, won´t spend quite that money on food+wine, though... whew!
 
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.

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.
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and yes, the chocolate bomb rocks!! :p
 
Pleasant to read.
I noticed that Michelle is ordering the right way at each restaurant.
I wonder what you taste when you get a sea food starter and meat as main course. Wasn't that the reason for Ama Lur' waitresses unfriendliness!
 
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.


:lol: :lol:

don't forget 'ridiculously large sunglass wearing, cheapskate' - idiots
 
Pleasant to read.
I noticed that Michelle is ordering the right way at each restaurant.
I wonder what you taste when you get a sea food starter and meat as main course. Wasn't that the reason for Ama Lur' waitresses unfriendliness!

she was like that before we ordered and even if what I did does not follow ettiquette it is not a waitresses place to show her disapproval.


At ama lur I had beef followed by lamb. Michelle had scampi followed by cod.
 
I wonder what you taste when you get a sea food starter and meat as main course. !


and incidentally I imagine you taste each course seperately unless you store some in your mouth and dont drink inbetween courses.

and meals here will often go starter > fish course > meat course > dessert so you're confusion is unfounded. If you're a paying customer you can have what you like in my eyes.
 
"And once again the illegal taxi service comes to our aid and thanks to Alex Fischer DJ bookings and VIP shuttle services we’re at Pacha just 10 minutes late."

HAHAHAH...good old Alex! We encountered him more than once...got a ride to Bora Bora one day from him...where he proceeded to park the car and join us...drinking about 10 beers during the course of a couple hours...and then wanted to drive us back...hahaha...nice!
 
Fantastic review!
PMSL @ the section about the Italians. :lol: :lol:

We also found the staff at Blue bar rude. I don't know why it's such a tacky place, food was vile and it looks like a youth club. :lol:
 
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.
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http://www.ibiza-heute.de
 
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