After 3 full days in Barcelona, we were quite excited to hop onto Air Iberia to Ibiza, the infamous Balearic isle off Spain. I couldn't help but feel a tad jaded about Ibiza, this been my third time here but James was obviously grinning from ear to ear. Ibiza seemed to have lost some of its magic especially the Evissa old town which looked butchered in the day. Our favourite ole hangout
El Chupito was also gone and there was an ugly crane tower looming over the Dalt Vila fortress.
On the flip side, the weather had been really gorgeous and we had perfected our golden brown tan during the first few days at the nearby
Cala Talamanca beach, staring at the titties and playing beach tennis in between naps. Our hotel
Roca Mar was quite pleasing (freakin expensive too at 150 euros a night!) with its million-dollar view of the Botafoc harbour and sleek boats. Our favourite hangout was
Cafe Sidney by the harbour where we were served by nubile waitresses and rubbed shoulders with the rich and beautifully tanned.
On our second evening, we dressed up and coughed up 50 fu%kin' euros to get into the wicked 'Defected In The House' party at
Pacha - the best club in my little black book. I still remembered the Eric Morilla's Defected party 5 years ago when I danced like a mad woman possessed in my red bikini top and red pants (what was I thinking of?!) from 2am to 10am. Soon we were being chatted up by Juan, a music producer from Madrid, who embraced us like long lost amigos and took care of us - his Singaporean friends who had come so far! Haha. We lasted till 4.30am and my head was still pounding as the sun came up at 7am.
The next day we did fuck all except woke up for late breakfast at 11am. Then napped till lunchtime at 4pm. Slacked at Cala Tala beach watching titties again and checking tan was not burnt. Isn't it just great doing absolutely nothing?? The only thing we devoted most time to after sleeping (our fav activity) was perfecting our beach tennis game. We played at the beach and in our airconditioned room from across the bed as MTV blared on all day.
On Thurs, we finally rented a Nissan Almera - a small dynamo of a car (at 60euros a day) and pretended we were in the Amazing Race exploring the isle! I got a cheap thrill driving on the left side in my bikini while James navigated with the map on his lap and a cigarette in hand. After a couple of missed turns, we reached our little secluded cove at
Cala Mestella up along the north east coast 45mins later. Determined to locate this restaurant
El Bigotes - known for their rockfish saffron stew, we risked an arm and leg by climbing a rocky path over the cliff to find it packed to the tilt instead and despite our pathetic begging, they couldn´t take us in as they only served a limited portion for lunch. Why like that one?!
We sulked and trodded back to the beach but luckily advised by the jovial chubby ice cream ah peh (who mistook me for a Peruvian!), we followed a short trail through the woods to this restaurante
Sa Seni which served a similar
pescado soupa - mixed fish and seafood stew with saffron. It was well worth the one hour waiting time and we gobbled down the rockfish stew and potatoes, thinking that was that. To our amusement, the waiter cleared our table and set it up for the main act - a big steaming steel pot of seafood stew with risotto! Still, we managed to wipe it out! At the end of the day, I was so glad we had this driving adventure which showed us another side to Ibiza.
After 3 full days in Barcelona, we were quite excited to hop onto Air Iberia to Ibiza, the infamous Balearic isle off Spain. I couldn't help but feel a tad jaded about Ibiza, this been my third time here but James was obviously grinning from ear to ear. Ibiza seemed to have lost some of its magic especially the Evissa old town which looked butchered in the day. Our favourite ole hangout El Chupito was also gone and there was an ugly crane tower looming over the Dalt Vila fortress. 
On the flip side, the weather had been really gorgeous and we had perfected our golden brown tan during the first few days at the nearby Cala Talamanca beach, staring at the titties and playing beach tennis in between naps. Our hotel Roca Mar was quite pleasing (freakin expensive too at 150 euros a night!) with its million-dollar view of the Botafoc harbour and sleek boats. Our favourite hangout was Cafe Sidney by the harbour where we were served by nubile waitresses and rubbed shoulders with the rich and beautifully tanned. 
On our second evening, we dressed up and coughed up 50 fu%kin' euros to get into the wicked 'Defected In The House' party at Pacha - the best club in my little black book. I still remembered the Eric Morilla's Defected party 5 years ago when I danced like a mad woman possessed in my red bikini top and red pants (what was I thinking of?!) from 2am to 10am. Soon we were being chatted up by Juan, a music producer from Madrid, who embraced us like long lost amigos and took care of us - his Singaporean friends who had come so far! Haha. We lasted till 4.30am and my head was still pounding as the sun came up at 7am. 
The next day we did fuck all except woke up for late breakfast at 11am. Then napped till lunchtime at 4pm. Slacked at Cala Tala beach watching titties again and checking tan was not burnt. Isn't it just great doing absolutely nothing?? The only thing we devoted most time to after sleeping (our fav activity) was perfecting our beach tennis game. We played at the beach and in our airconditioned room from across the bed as MTV blared on all day.
On Thurs, we finally rented a Nissan Almera - a small dynamo of a car (at 60euros a day) and pretended we were in the Amazing Race exploring the isle! I got a cheap thrill driving on the left side in my bikini while James navigated with the map on his lap and a cigarette in hand. After a couple of missed turns, we reached our little secluded cove at Cala Mestella up along the north east coast 45mins later. Determined to locate this restaurant El Bigotes - known for their rockfish saffron stew, we risked an arm and leg by climbing a rocky path over the cliff to find it packed to the tilt instead and despite our pathetic begging, they couldn´t take us in as they only served a limited portion for lunch. Why like that one?! 
We sulked and trodded back to the beach but luckily advised by the jovial chubby ice cream ah peh (who mistook me for a Peruvian!), we followed a short trail through the woods to this restaurante Sa Seni which served a similar pescado soupa - mixed fish and seafood stew with saffron. It was well worth the one hour waiting time and we gobbled down the rockfish stew and potatoes, thinking that was that. To our amusement, the waiter cleared our table and set it up for the main act - a big steaming steel pot of seafood stew with risotto! Still, we managed to wipe it out! At the end of the day, I was so glad we had this driving adventure which showed us another side to Ibiza.
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