Recovery day
Steve and I spend the day recovering. Steve partied harder that me, and spent the day in the hotel room. I felt a lot better in the evening and went out for a nice walk and grabbed an ice cream.
Pacha nightclub, Ibiza town, Ibiza
In the evening we catch the bus into Ibiza town. We stroll around and find some bars we had seen on our last visit. We take up the offer of buy-one-get-one-free, but beer costs €9, so its still very expensive. We get chatting to some people from Manchester. We then buy our tickets for Pacha. Many people had told us this is the club to visit, so we deicide to head there tonight. We find a great Italian restaurant and get a god meal inside us before the night begins.
Steve and I both dislike cues and walk over to Pacha at around 1am. We get in quickly and head around the club. Once we have our bearings he head out to the terrace bar, where the heat is cooler. We spend the night milling around between the house room, the terrace and occasionally the main room, although the music gets harder and harder as the night goes on. Steve ends up chatting to a Russian girl who is very friendly. Steve and I both are wary of her, but Steve ends up chatting with her. We later deduce that she is a prostitute, and her ‘boyfriend’ is her pimp. We laughed when we realise. Steve later goes back and talks with her. She suddenly forgets how to speak English when he says he thinks she is a prostitute. We say goodbye and leave her to her work. Steve had changed some notes with her before, and later thought that she had given him a fake €50 note, as the note did not have a foil. The day after I realise that the €50 and €100 notes have different foils, and she did not rip him off. We also saw a guy getting ejected with force. He kept shouting that the bouncers wanted his money. The put up a good fight, and it took the bouncers a long time to get him downstairs. A big crowd has formed. Steve and I both thought about what was actually going on. Was it someone being removed for partying too hard, or something more sinister?
We have a great night and when the sun rises, and the club starts closing at 7am we head back to Ibiza town. We wander up the streets and wait for the bus. We don’t wait long. The bus is busy, and we have to stand for the first part of the journey. It is perhaps the hardest 30 minute journey I have ever done. We were sweating right from the start, even though the bus was air conditioned. The bus seems to stop at every stop, with people jostling for position. We get seats about half way through the trip. There are some other clubbers on the bus. The Spaniards, making their way to work, don’t bat and eyelid at us; they have seen it all before.
Scooter day 2 – around the north of Ibiza Island
Steve and I jump on the scooter early. We head north to Sant Agnes, and grab a coffee.
We then wind our way through the beautiful mountain roads of the north. We stop at Port de Sant Miquel de Balansat. We take a swim in the warm and clear water. We soon hit the road again, stopping along the mountain road as the views are amazing. We continue to a gas station near Sant Joan, and then head south. We cut inland to Es Cana. We stop for something to eat. When we set off again we head down the coastal road, stopping at the hippy market which we pass.
We head further south, stopping at Cala Llonga, for our last swim of the day. The Jellyfish we have seen earlier in the week are around, and we only have a brief swim. We jump back on the scooters and head back towards San Antonio.
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Scooter day 1 – around the south of Ibiza island
Steve and I arrange some scooter hire. The friendly English guy picks us up and he head over to San Antonio bay. We do all the paperwork and head off. It is great fun riding the scooters. They are definitely the best way to get around the island. We head east and ride until we get to Cala Conta. There are lots of people around and the views are beautiful. We hand around and enjoy the sun.
We then head south along the coast road to Cala Moli. We take a swim and relax for a while. We then head further south to Cala Vedella. We stop at the top of the hill and enjoy the amazing views. We head down and park up. There are lots of families enjoying the beach. The water is surprisingly polluted. Steve gets chatting to a crazy Italian guy, and gives him a lift to the top of the hill on the other side of the bay.
We continue on south towards Es Vedra. We’re not sure where to stop for the best views of the island, and eventually pass Es Vedra. We decide to keep going and return there another day.
We carry on riding, passing lots of beautiful vistas. We end up in Ibiza town, where we park up. We take a good walk around, taking in the various sights of the capital town. We stop for food at a good looking Spanish restaurant. The food is great and the atmosphere of the narrow streets is also great. After talking to some people we jump back on the scooters and head back towards San Antonio. The drive back along the main road is not good, as the road is big and busy. But at least it is a quick road. We park the bikes up near our hotel.
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A bit of rest, and another night in San Antonio
We get some rest in the morning. We decide to go out again tonight, although it might be a bit risky for a couple of old dodgers like us. We go out and explore more bars. We avoid the west end as we realise it isn’t really our thing. We do discover the bars around the lower end of San Antonio bay, especially Itaca. We go back to Cafe Mambo and Savannahs, which we like a lot. We meet 3 Spanish girls and enjoy chatting to them. Steve does most of the talking, as his Spanish is better. We say goodbye to the Spanish girls and head back to the hotel room, where we wind down.
Day at the beach, and our first night out
We mill around for a bit, and then head out to the beach. We soak up the sun and chat to a few people. We notice a lot of people with lilos and decide we need to get some.
In the evening we go out in San Antonio. We chat to a lot of people and explore a lot of bars. We party pretty hard. We are surprised by how early everything closes in San Antonio. We eventually find Cafe Mambo, which stays open until 4am. We do end up sitting there catching flies though :-).
We head back to the hotel and unwind. Steve keeps going, but I get some rest.
Newquay Airport, Gatwick Airport, San Antonia, Ibiza
After waking I realise that I have left it a bit late to get to Newquay airport. I’m not late, but I haven’t left the time I would normally like. Abby drops me to airport, with 30 minutes of check-in time remaining. I wait around and catch the flight to Gatwick.
At Gatwick I change terminals and wait for Steve. We check-in together and head straight for the bar. We kill time, and as I seem to do of late, we get to the gate when they are closing it.
The flight is straight forward and we arrive in good time. The weather is scorching when we arrive. We find the bus and get to the hotel. Other people are dropped off at a hotel some way out of the town of San Antonio. When we get to out hotel, the Galerea, we are grateful it is so close to town. We shower and head down to the welcome meeting. The meeting is a typical 18-30 speech, which we ignore and decline their offers of drinking games, and so forth.
We had out into San Antonio. We take in the sights, and discover the west end; the plethora of bars and clubs built to entertain the rowdy Brits and other visitors. We have some food, a few beers and call it a night.
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Girona, flying back to Newquay
I try the breakfast at the hostel. The buffet selection is a classic Spanish breakfast of breads, cheeses, hams, chorizo, cereals, juices and coffee. This suits me fine. Whilst I am eating a mass of kids staying at the hostel descend on the dinning room.
I have been a bit disappointed staying at the hostel. Although reasonable new the hostel is in bad condition. It isn’t a good place to meet people either.
I wander through the streets of the told town again. The Arab baths are not open until 10:00, so I wander over to the gardens. I walk and find what I think are the gardens, but am disappointed with them. On my return to the town I find the real gardens. Although smaller than I had imagined, the canopy of the trees offers shade from the already hot sun. Several pathways have been cut into the heavily wooded area. There are a number of sports facilities in the park. One of these buildings suggests that it was connected with the 1992 Barcelona Olympics. A small version of the Olympic rings hang on the flag posts, and it is called Olympic Girona. The building does not suggest its purpose though.
Girona, Figueres and the Salvador Dali Museum, Catalunya, Spain
I wake up at 07:30. It was a much cooler night. I had to shut the windows. I pack and make my way to the bus station. I catch the bus to Girona. My flight home is from Girona airport. Before seeing the town and flying home, I will take a day trip to Figueres, to see the Salvador Dali Museum.
Girona is a pleasant city, calmer than Barcelona. The temperature is 26 degrees, much cooler. I get to the tourist information office and get a map. I make my way to the youth hostel. On entry I see a sign saying they are full. I ask and the lady says they have one more dorm bed, it seems I am lucky. I leave my bag in the cupboard, and head back to the train station. I buy a train ticket to Figueres, which coasts €2.55. Whilst the ticket machine gives some instructions in English, the tariffs are unclear. I ask a cute girl at the tourist information at the station, but she does not know the difference in the tariffs. I opt for the express (blue) button on the machine, and then the top option, assuming this is a full adult single fare. The price suggests so.
I have a coffee and a pastry at the café. I had my typical fruit and sesame biscuit breakfast on the bus to Girona this morning.
The train leaves platform (via) 2 at 10:36, 2 minutes late. I see an English speaking couple with mountains of bags, including what looks like a laptop in a hard case. I can’t imagine backpacking with so much stuff, or a laptop. I guess a laptop is ok if you stay in hotels. The view is ok, being a mix of built up areas and countryside. The train is fast, modern and air conditioned. The ticket inspector comes through asking for tickets, and seems happy with mine, so I must have made the correct choice at the ticket machine. I am looking forward to the Dali Museum.
We stop at Flaca. The seats in the express trains have a slide-able back part, so they can face in either direction. It’s a clever idea. They also tell you the name of the next stop. The trains in the UK are becoming very dated now, in comparison.
My stay in Tossa was good value. Maybe €20 per day, excluding my €13 ferry ride, which was paid for my picnicking, and not eating at restaurants. The cash I took out in Tossa is almost untouched. [It later turns out that my credit card was copied in Tossa, but the bank cancelled it, so it was OK in the end.]
Figueres is an old town that offers little in the way of attractions, with one exception. The Salvador Dali Museum, which is real treat for anyone with an interest in the Spaniards art. Dali was born in Figueres, and although he lived for many years in the USA and France, he also lived nearby on the coast. His decision to build the museum in his birth town secured its fortune and a share in the tourist income. The building is full of delights, but you do find yourself walking back on yourself on more than one occasion. The sculptures are as impressive as the paintings. Many of Dali’s famous paintings are housed in the museum. I found it interesting that some of my favourites where postcard size, and yet others where 20m square. There are many sketches and non-abstract paintings in the galleries, showing his obvious “regular” artistic skills. Upstairs can also be found some of Dali’s collections of other artists work. I particularly like the painting of an artist painting a subject in front of a mirror. A sort of abstract self-portrait.
I walk Figueres for an hour after, killing time before the next train back to Girona. It is a town with a series of charming shady squares and a small rambla. I catch the 14:30 train back to Girona. It is 36 degrees.
In Girona, I go back to the youth hostel and check in. I have to buy a stamp to start YHI membership. I rent sheets, the total for a dorm bed is €25. The hostel is an YHI hostel and has strict rules. Quite different to the hostel in Barcelona, which was all about fun. There is no curfew, but there is a night staff. The price includes breakfast. The hostel also offers half-board and full-board. The hostel is very lively, with many young people. I have read that the hostel provides accommodation to the students of Girona. This seems to be the case, and there are loads of kids here. In the reception there is a sign stating that they are full, however my five bed dorm room is empty? A German man behind me in reception comes into the dorm shortly after me. It occurs to me that Girona is not regular backpacker territory. The last few days have taught me quite a bit about where to go and not to go to meet backpackers.
I take a walk amongst the buildings of the old town. The Cathedral is impressive, as are many of the other surrounding buildings. Of particular note are the various gardens and the tree lined entrances to the buildings. Not being catholic, or religious, I find the plants and trees of more interest than the buildings themselves. The Arab Baths are closing by the time I get there (18:55). I will return tomorrow. I walk along the top of the high town walls, which mark the boundary of the medieval city. The views are good. The walk takes me to the south of the city. I walk amongst the people and buildings of the newer city. The pace is much more frantic than the ancient part of town I have come from. I buy some supplies at the supermarket.
I walk back to the old town. The cash machine refuses to give me any cash [I later find out my credit card was copied, and the bank terminated it.] I return to the hostel and grab my other bank card, and then get some cash. I walk for a long time, around the streets of the old and new towns. I have reserved too much time for Girona, and find myself with little to do. There is a good contrast between locals and tourists. I catch up with my journal at a café. Tomorrow I will walk to the park, before catching my bus to the airport to return home.
In the evening I get a falafel (€3) from the kebab shop next to the youth hostel. It is excellent. Make with great produce and great care. I then get a beer from a café. I love the Mediterranean street life, with late night snacking. I enjoy the way I can grab a beer at a café, occupy the table on my own and take my time. People always seem happy and chatty, eating and drinking into the night. You almost never see a drunk Spaniard though.
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Tossa de Mar, a ferry ride to Sant Feliu de Guixols, Catalunya, Spain
I wake early and wake around the town whilst eating breakfast. I walk over to the beach. It is not possible to walk very far, as the bay comes to a rocky end and there is nowhere to walk. I enjoy a coffee at the beach bar, which is becoming a favourite.
I decide to take a ferry ride, as there are many good destinations. I pack a bag and buy a ticket to Sant Feliu de Guixols (€13). The 40 minute trip is pleasant with some great scenery. The weather is still great. There are lots of apartments on this part of the coastline. The mountains paint a lovely backdrop to the coast.
The item of interest in the town of Sant Feliu de Guixols is an arch. The arch once was part of a monastery, which was very important to Spanish history. Buildings are being erected near the arch and I can’t help but think that one day the arch will be lost amongst someone’s apartment.
I write my journal in the shade, on a hill, whilst watching a crew tug a concrete marine structure into place in the harbour. I stay for 2 hours before catching the ferry back to Tossa.
I spend the rest of the afternoon at the beach, swimming and sunbathing. That evening I picnic on the beach. I walk the town, enjoy an ice cream, and retire to bed.
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