The small things

I'm on the same wavelength as many others here. Much of it is based on the senses, anticipation, expectation and tradition.

I always like to see archways of the old entrance to the retro airport terminal just as we approach on the runway.

The age old photo outside the airport we haven't done as much in recent years. Probably less so since the revamp. But it still says Ibiza on it so that's enough reason just to look at it for a buzz.

Getting into the wrong side of the rental car. Classic.

100% the first sight of Dalt Vila. When you see that rising in the distance, that's the sweet spot.

The first supermarket shopping excursion.

The first full day. Checked in, unpacked, nothing in the diary and the anticipation of everything that lies ahead.

A cold tin of beer on the beach.

Breakfast at Flotante. Lunch at El Bigotes, Fish Shack or Bar Costa.

Lunch of traditional baked fish to share at Cala Martina with our feet in the sand.

As much as I love the restaurants, a cool box lunch on the beach is hard to beat. Simple pleasures.

The boat from Talamanca across the marina to town is fantastic.

A beach after 7pm.

7-10pm every day; Beach or pool done, lunch done, get ready, sit down, balcony, music, sunset time and the expectation of dinner ahead. Related to this, the light at this time is indeed a joy.

Pre dinner drinks in one of the bars around Plaza del Parque. Suprisingly inexpensive and always a brilliant atmosphere.

The buzz of La Bodega and Bar San Juan.

Stopping off at Anita's on the way back from the beaches up north.

Wandering the back streets of Dalt Vila.

The road to Cala d'Hort. Seeing those two big freaks of rock on the horizon still blows the mind.

The taxis. Always love the sound of the voices on their radios and the subsequent bleeping in between. And all the dashboards of the taxis seem like nothing I've ever seen in a similar car before - they always seem like a cockpit, ultra luxurious and with more lights and buttons than would ever be necessary.

Plus yep the radio stations while driving around the island. Amazing.

The early-ish morning shuffle in flip flops to the supermarket when everything is still quiet.

Sitting in the shade of the trees at Es Niu Blau.

The buzz and chitter chatter of a restaurant filled with local families on a Sunday.

Seeing effortlessly cool and eccentric older residents in their battered cars or jeeps.


Crisp, cold canas. Hierbas. Paella. Olives. Flao. The bread and aioli at Es Pins.

Cafes de Ibiza coffee.

We missed the Amigo review this summer!
I don't think I managed one last summer either! Dear oh dear. I've become the epitome of the phrase "the busy fool". I forgot about that post - I could probably copy and paste a lot of it every year by way of a journal at least.

Haha, same! Keep meaning to post about this year’s (three) trips.