Routine. That describes this morning. I'm very meticulous about packing my bag though. I haven't flown for weeks and I want to make sure I don't have a repeat experience. I'm up much earlier than necessary so I can shower, pack my bag, and head off in search of food.
The first thing I find that seems like a decent place to eat at this time of day is a pizza place.
Go figure.
Aside from the leftover pizza I'd eat for breakfast in college, this is the earliest I'd eaten pizza. I order a pizza napolini and wait 20 minutes before someone comes out to tell me in Italian that there's a problem with the oven. I'd have to wait another 20 to 30 minutes. Can I wait? I'd have absolutely no clue what the man was saying if it didn't sound an awful lot like Spanish. After a very long wait, I'm finally presented with a pizza. An anchovy pizza. I didn't order an anchovy pizza.
I can't afford to wait for something else. Dig in Mack.
The first couple bites are really good, but when I finally get a mouth full of anchovies I can't handle it. All that fish and salt at 9am is not what I had in mind. I removed the anchovies.
After breakfast I walked to the bus stop, caught the bus, and got off at the airport. My flight leaves from the Rome Ciampino airport. This airport says it's something different.
Not again.
After a short panic and a quick google search I'm relieved to see I'm in the right place with plenty of time to spare. I decide to experiment. Instead of putting on the majority of the clothes in my bag, I decide to put on just the cargo pants and a shirt. Then I took everything out of my bag that wasn't clothing and filled up my pockets. Combination locks, cards, a notebook, toiletries, camera charger, iPod charger, etc. Then I bring my bag over to the bag drop to weigh it. It's over 10 kilos.
The maps have got to go.
I'd accumulated a fair pile of maps along my journey and they were in my bag. Now they're in the trash. I weighed the pack again. Too heavy. I take out the ziplock baggie with my sunscreen and other "potentially dangerous liquids" and put that in my pocket too. Just under 10 kilos.
Let's go.
Through security into the waiting area filled with degenerates and party animals, onto the plane, and off to Ibiza. The passengers roar during take off. Everyone's in high spirits and full of energy. They're going to party. I'm going to sleep.
An hour later I wake up to the sound of the passengers going nuts. We're about to land. We finally do, and I head outside to find the bus.
When I was in Slovenia I decided to book a place in Ibiza Town for two nights. All hostels required I pay for the entire room, including the empty beds. All hotels required a minimum four night stay.
Where am I going to sleep.
The way i saw it, I had three affordable options: no sleep (which I managed to pull off in Vegas), a nice park bench/spot on the beach, or Pepita's house. A BnB sounded much better that the other options so I booked it. Apparently Pepita gets good reviews.
After a short bus ride and a quick walk I find the street her apartment is on, but I can't find the address: 3,4 b. None of the apartments have letters. I stop into a Internet cafe, make a call, and get her on the phone. She repeats the same address she had sent me. I ask what floor. She says four.
Well that's a start at least.
I hang up and walk to the counter to pay for the phone call. The girl won't let me pay. She says I have to call first. I tell her I did. She says I have to call first, then walks away.
Is my Spanish really that bad?
I give up trying to give her my money and head next door. I decide that #2 on the fourth floor is what Pepita means by "b." I ring the intercom and she buzzes me in. Then I take the elevator to the 4th floor, which is actually the 5th, and and as soon as I leave the elevator I'm greeted my Pepita. She's in her late thirties/early forties. She's very tan with a bright smile. She ushers me in, shows me around, and sits me down for some watermelon.
Sandilla del campo.
It's absolutely amazing. Especially since it's so hot out.
After we eat eat she sits me down and draws me a little map with a few things on it that I'd ask about. Food, beach, port, discotechas. She writes it all down. I thank her then head off. I attempt to head to the plaza near by but I ended up on some stairs. That go up and up and up. There's amazing views at the top of the stairs. It feels like Key West with all the palms and the blue water in the background. I head down the other side of the stairs and down to the rocks at the water's edge. Waves crash and people bathe. I keep walking along the rocks and eventually come across more people sunning themselves in the nude.
No big deal. This is Ibiza.
Back at the house Pepita tells me about El Zaguan, a tapas restaurant that I should eat at. It's absolutely delicious and I eat 8 tapas and love them all. Now it's time to discotecha.
I walk down to Space around 1am. It's on the other side of town. It's just getting started, and the place is absolutely nuts. People everywhere sweating, dancing, and not caring about anything whatsoever. It continues on for hours. The place is heating up, way above 90, the beat is building, and BOOM. Jets of freezing cold air are blasted down on us. It happens a few more times.
Keep the crowd craving more.
Eventually I'm just too tired to keep going. I head home. The beaches of Formentera will be waiting for me in the morning.
The first thing I find that seems like a decent place to eat at this time of day is a pizza place.
Go figure.
Aside from the leftover pizza I'd eat for breakfast in college, this is the earliest I'd eaten pizza. I order a pizza napolini and wait 20 minutes before someone comes out to tell me in Italian that there's a problem with the oven. I'd have to wait another 20 to 30 minutes. Can I wait? I'd have absolutely no clue what the man was saying if it didn't sound an awful lot like Spanish. After a very long wait, I'm finally presented with a pizza. An anchovy pizza. I didn't order an anchovy pizza.
I can't afford to wait for something else. Dig in Mack.
The first couple bites are really good, but when I finally get a mouth full of anchovies I can't handle it. All that fish and salt at 9am is not what I had in mind. I removed the anchovies.
After breakfast I walked to the bus stop, caught the bus, and got off at the airport. My flight leaves from the Rome Ciampino airport. This airport says it's something different.
Not again.
After a short panic and a quick google search I'm relieved to see I'm in the right place with plenty of time to spare. I decide to experiment. Instead of putting on the majority of the clothes in my bag, I decide to put on just the cargo pants and a shirt. Then I took everything out of my bag that wasn't clothing and filled up my pockets. Combination locks, cards, a notebook, toiletries, camera charger, iPod charger, etc. Then I bring my bag over to the bag drop to weigh it. It's over 10 kilos.
The maps have got to go.
I'd accumulated a fair pile of maps along my journey and they were in my bag. Now they're in the trash. I weighed the pack again. Too heavy. I take out the ziplock baggie with my sunscreen and other "potentially dangerous liquids" and put that in my pocket too. Just under 10 kilos.
Let's go.
Through security into the waiting area filled with degenerates and party animals, onto the plane, and off to Ibiza. The passengers roar during take off. Everyone's in high spirits and full of energy. They're going to party. I'm going to sleep.
An hour later I wake up to the sound of the passengers going nuts. We're about to land. We finally do, and I head outside to find the bus.
When I was in Slovenia I decided to book a place in Ibiza Town for two nights. All hostels required I pay for the entire room, including the empty beds. All hotels required a minimum four night stay.
Where am I going to sleep.
The way i saw it, I had three affordable options: no sleep (which I managed to pull off in Vegas), a nice park bench/spot on the beach, or Pepita's house. A BnB sounded much better that the other options so I booked it. Apparently Pepita gets good reviews.
After a short bus ride and a quick walk I find the street her apartment is on, but I can't find the address: 3,4 b. None of the apartments have letters. I stop into a Internet cafe, make a call, and get her on the phone. She repeats the same address she had sent me. I ask what floor. She says four.
Well that's a start at least.
I hang up and walk to the counter to pay for the phone call. The girl won't let me pay. She says I have to call first. I tell her I did. She says I have to call first, then walks away.
Is my Spanish really that bad?
I give up trying to give her my money and head next door. I decide that #2 on the fourth floor is what Pepita means by "b." I ring the intercom and she buzzes me in. Then I take the elevator to the 4th floor, which is actually the 5th, and and as soon as I leave the elevator I'm greeted my Pepita. She's in her late thirties/early forties. She's very tan with a bright smile. She ushers me in, shows me around, and sits me down for some watermelon.
Sandilla del campo.
It's absolutely amazing. Especially since it's so hot out.
After we eat eat she sits me down and draws me a little map with a few things on it that I'd ask about. Food, beach, port, discotechas. She writes it all down. I thank her then head off. I attempt to head to the plaza near by but I ended up on some stairs. That go up and up and up. There's amazing views at the top of the stairs. It feels like Key West with all the palms and the blue water in the background. I head down the other side of the stairs and down to the rocks at the water's edge. Waves crash and people bathe. I keep walking along the rocks and eventually come across more people sunning themselves in the nude.
No big deal. This is Ibiza.
Back at the house Pepita tells me about El Zaguan, a tapas restaurant that I should eat at. It's absolutely delicious and I eat 8 tapas and love them all. Now it's time to discotecha.
I walk down to Space around 1am. It's on the other side of town. It's just getting started, and the place is absolutely nuts. People everywhere sweating, dancing, and not caring about anything whatsoever. It continues on for hours. The place is heating up, way above 90, the beat is building, and BOOM. Jets of freezing cold air are blasted down on us. It happens a few more times.
Keep the crowd craving more.
Eventually I'm just too tired to keep going. I head home. The beaches of Formentera will be waiting for me in the morning.
Macklin, reminds me of when you surprised the waiter (and me) when she suggested a plain cheese pizza and your said you'd like anchovies and capers instead. Quite an adventurous palate for a five(or so)-year-old.
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