The island of Ibiza is our last port of call before ending the cruise in Barcelona. I’ll be honest, I hadn’t heard of Ibiza. Apparently, I need to get a subscription to some celebrity magazines. Where have I been? Ibiza is a small island (25 miles long and 16 miles wide) off the coast of Spain. Back in the ancient day, the Phoenicians and Catharginians thought it was a hot place for trade, but it was pretty quiet after that for a couple of thousand years.
Spain had a terrible civil war in the 1930’s. Prior to that Spain had become a popular retreat for bohemians like Earnest Hemingway. They wanted off the mainland and moved to the island of Ibiza, which was out of the path of the civil war.
It took the Love Power of the Hippies in the 1960’s to really cement Ibiza’s reputation as a party place. The Hippies came and the parties began in earnest. And apparently never stopped. From May to October this is the place to flaunt what you got, baby! After that it quiets down, shuts down and hits the snooze button on the party clock for the year. But during the peak months of the year, this is where the big names hang and the party goers flock to have a good time.
We were there on a Sunday in November. As you can imagine, it was like visiting a party house after the party is over and the guests are all gone. Almost everything was closed, even the McDonalds! The Hard Rock Café at least had a sign thanking everyone and saying they will reopen next Spring. There were a few places open for the locals, and one dress shop that was mobbed by the cruise ship patrons. But the Burger King was still open – and doing a huge business, because they had the only open bathroom in town!
It was kind of surrealistic walking the nearly empty streets. One apparent leftover party girl sat sobbing next to a building like a poor abandoned puppy. She had the thin, aged face of an addict who had been left behind by the party goers. It broke our hearts.
The town is built on the side of a small mountain. The old part of town was built high upon the mountain with a large fortress. It has an absolutely breathtaking 360 degree view from the top. And an absolute totally take your breath walk to the top. George took one look and decided to wait on a bench. I decided not to miss the photo opportunity and started up the old cobblestone street. Which entered the old fort and became fort steps. It went up. And up. And up. Oh my, this was more than I thought. It felt like I hiked up 1,000 feet – straight up. I’m not sure how high it is, but it is steep!
There was a tiny village very near the top, and it had the look of an old greek village – all painted white, with narrow winding streets. It is the tourist spot of the hale and hearty – and, of course, all closed.
We saw some real estate for sale posters in a window. For only 3 million Euros you can get yourself a sweet little four bedroom house with a pool. For 6 million you can get six bedrooms. Interested?
Well, I’m not! It’s a lovely place, and when things are open, it must be quite a sight to behold. Yachts and lots of lovely bodies in scanty clothing. Now, if it had a Roman amphitheater, I might be more excited….