And so to the Balearics… what can one say… it was an
interesting 2 months but how to go about relaying the facts… perhaps in order
of islands visited…
Ibiza is the epitome the expression “an island of contrasts”. Essentially it is an old hippie hangout and
it has retained its very relaxed and somewhat lawless roots. It’s also not as built up as you would expect
and highly treed. Walking and biking
tracks are everywhere and there is a sense of “freedom to roam” and a let it
all hang out mentality (you can’t move for fear of falling over a naked man)
but this seems to bang heads somewhat with pockets of tourism.
Take for example San Antonio (popular with the younger British hooligan) and our first port of call but not at all representative of the rest of the island. Here, as it was early season, I am informed by billboard and poster that I can get a job as pornographic star (yes, did you know that at the most expensive clubs that your little darlings are just dying to go to, the “climax” of the night is a live sex show) or perhaps I would prefer just a little light striptease work instead… easier on the back I suppose… on the other hand did I know that the community is trying to promote better relations between the locals and the tourists and there are now fines for unacceptable behaviour including public sex acts – go figure??!…
It’s an interesting town all right and we saw some rare old
sights,( most of which contravened the above rules - three spring immediately
to mind; the poor young guy accosted and bullied by a group of Nigerian or
Senegalese prostitutes, the barely
dressed male and female exotic dancers touting for business and number of bars
selling gut buster meals – and boy was that going to be a hard ask with the
size of some guts we saw – no shirts on; of course!) . But something that struck us as we delved a
little deeper was the desire of the islanders, at this, the most cash strapped
time in their economy, to start laying down the law to the tourists that write
their meal tickets, even going as far as to limit the hours music can be
played. (Only between 4pm and midnight if it can be heard outside the
establishment and only till 3am otherwise.)
Bearing in mind we are talking about a country that relies heavily on
tourism with an unemployment rate of 27.2%, (youth unemployment stands at 57.2%)
and an economy that is contracting by nearly 2% per year; is now really the
time to heavy handedly try and change an
islands image?? The Spanish business
model in action again, still it’s their island and their choice I suppose. Still whatever they are doing must be working
as we also discovered that there really aren’t suffering from the recession in
the Balearics or, if they are, they are taking the “buy the latest BMW and fake
you way through it” option. Outside the
bucket ‘n’ spade resorts and younglings hangouts, the restaurants were
ridiculously expensive (115€/kilo for lobster and 38€ for a starter of Iberian
ham – and full of Spanish people!), the houses are swanky as anywhere we have
seen and no one was interested in doing without anything or working particularly hard in the name of getting
the country back on track.
Looking back at Ibiza now what comes to mind are great
walking opportunities, lots of trees, millions of jellyfish, winds that liked
to turn 180 degrees in the night, safe anchorages full of mooring or swimming
buoys and a really irritating constant swell (pack your seasickness tablets and
no wonder people opt to day sail and return to the safety of the marina at
night – shame we couldn’t afford to!!).
We had some of the roughest nights at anchor we have ever had. Not something that makes us want to go back.
Puerto de San Miguel – nice under the right conditions but
absolutely not under the wrong ones!
Just watch out for the crazy Italian that likes to swim the bay and
really shouldn’t as he needs rescuing every day! (“Hello, I am Italian” Murray – “That’s Ok,
I’m sure it will wash off”) Definitely
not the full lira/euro! (The bloke, not
Murray – how rude!)
Ibiza
Just the name conjures up all sorts of images for Kiwis but most revolve around the lazy dalliances of the rich and famous and this is kind of true but we only really saw this in Ibiza town but even then it is only a one street wonder. Sure there is a parade of yellow hummers patrolling the streets and some of the beautiful people do swan around all dressed in flowing white linen flashing their cash but literally go one street back and the roads are more like to be paved with weeds and rubbish than gold. It was a real eye opener for us.
Just the name conjures up all sorts of images for Kiwis but most revolve around the lazy dalliances of the rich and famous and this is kind of true but we only really saw this in Ibiza town but even then it is only a one street wonder. Sure there is a parade of yellow hummers patrolling the streets and some of the beautiful people do swan around all dressed in flowing white linen flashing their cash but literally go one street back and the roads are more like to be paved with weeds and rubbish than gold. It was a real eye opener for us.
Ibiza is the epitome the expression “an island of contrasts”. Essentially it is an old hippie hangout and
it has retained its very relaxed and somewhat lawless roots. It’s also not as built up as you would expect
and highly treed. Walking and biking
tracks are everywhere and there is a sense of “freedom to roam” and a let it
all hang out mentality (you can’t move for fear of falling over a naked man)
but this seems to bang heads somewhat with pockets of tourism. Take for example San Antonio (popular with the younger British hooligan) and our first port of call but not at all representative of the rest of the island. Here, as it was early season, I am informed by billboard and poster that I can get a job as pornographic star (yes, did you know that at the most expensive clubs that your little darlings are just dying to go to, the “climax” of the night is a live sex show) or perhaps I would prefer just a little light striptease work instead… easier on the back I suppose… on the other hand did I know that the community is trying to promote better relations between the locals and the tourists and there are now fines for unacceptable behaviour including public sex acts – go figure??!…
·
3000€ for performing or soliciting sex on the
street (OK in the club but not in the street – an interesting compromise!?!)
·
1500€ for urinating, defecating or otherwise
producing bodily fluids in the street (The mind boggles!)
·
750€ for not wearing a shirt in public (Put it
away people – “undies, undies, togs”)
·
750€ for drinking in public (Feel free to soak
up as many of the 5€ pints of vodka and redbull as you can but don’t enjoy a
can of lager on your overpriced deckchair, OK?!)
·
750€ for shouting in the street at night (A
tricky one as the music levels can be a bit of the loud side for normal
conversation but we are working on that too…)
·
600€ for street selling (No mention of what
here… but again I have a vivid imagination and as long as it doesn’t clash with
rule number 1…!)
 |
| An example of the terribly long working hours the Spanish have??! |
Anyway a lot of the island was pretty quiet early season and
we had most of places to ourselves however there wasn’t much love in the air
and we got the distinct impression that we weren’t terribly welcome as
non-superyachties, so we ended up trundling around the bays hoping that the
businesses would start to get revved up and hanging out with some of the
fattest people we have ever seen… England has really got to tackle their
dietary habits!!
Looking back at Ibiza now what comes to mind are great
walking opportunities, lots of trees, millions of jellyfish, winds that liked
to turn 180 degrees in the night, safe anchorages full of mooring or swimming
buoys and a really irritating constant swell (pack your seasickness tablets and
no wonder people opt to day sail and return to the safety of the marina at
night – shame we couldn’t afford to!!).
We had some of the roughest nights at anchor we have ever had. Not something that makes us want to go back.
Bays of note were (i.e. places we went more than once!):
Cala Basa (just outside
San Antonio) – great place for escaping to when the wind and chop gets too much
in San Antonio; just remember to park as close to the swimming buoys as
possible and don’t get shitty when the trip boats cut you up, mow you down in
the water while you are swimming and park on top of you. You will also need a strong stomach for beach
blubber!
Cala Llonga – pretty good in most winds and great walking
but very crowded so be prepared to take some flack for close quarters parking
and in return don’t be prissy about your own personal space!
Cala Cana – better protection than it looks but again don’t
be intimidated by the extremely rude trip boat operators and Bramble says watch
out for the “bad kitties” after she was attacked outside a bar by the scrag-tag
team from hell! That was the closest I
have every come to booting a cat – not nice!
Puerto de San Miguel – nice under the right conditions but
absolutely not under the wrong ones!
Just watch out for the crazy Italian that likes to swim the bay and
really shouldn’t as he needs rescuing every day! (“Hello, I am Italian” Murray – “That’s Ok,
I’m sure it will wash off”) Definitely
not the full lira/euro! (The bloke, not
Murray – how rude!)
Cala Serra – a great spot if you longline to the shore. Better protection than shown in the pilot and
you will probably have it to yourself and a great beach bar with happy-to-see
you operators.
Cool things:
·
The Hippie Market
·
The abundant walking tracks
·
The Ibizian Hound (Supposedly the oldest breed
of domestic dog)
·
Watching the old folk in San Antonio get their
kicks out of ogling the tourists!
·
How nice the vets were in San Antonio when
Bramble got food poisoning(?) with Murray after sharing prawns on the barbie! Turns out after extensive blood and “caca”
tests she has IBS – and like Grandad Graham isn’t allowed to eat all things she
likes – Bummer!! Upside is she loves the
fancy gastro biscuits she now has to eat…
“At the height of my addiction to junk food I was doing at least line of smak(o) a day and dropping 20 cheesy bites… something had to give.”
“At the height of my addiction to junk food I was doing at least line of smak(o) a day and dropping 20 cheesy bites… something had to give.”
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