gem gems aka english muffin: Isle Ibiza

Barcelone de la bateaux

We arrived at the Barcelona airport to be told matter-of-factly (and with a slight smirk, I believe), that our flight had left 24 hours prior.

As the next flight blew our budget, the inevitable fate of a night ferry pleasantly welcomed us aboard.

We cozied up on long white plastic beach chairs on the top deck, next to a group of Americans who curiously stared (I'm sure in jealousy) as we dug out the typically French munchies of Brie, saucisonne, and crackers.

First view of the islands

Awaking to a Balearian sea sunrise made me forget the past terrors of transportation malfunctions. The boat soared along the gushing water, the wind billowed my scarf around my face, and the new warmth of the day tickled my skin.

The biker gang we shared the deck with in the morn

"Upper Town", old Ibiza

My friend Gwen had warned me there was no actual culture in Ibiza, only parties and beaches, but we were able to prove otherwise. The Dalt Vila was a "walled city which devloped out of the ancient Phoenician settlement...built at the behest of Felip II". (so ha).

Found a Latin inscription at the entrance (yay!), fun little nooks and cobblestone paths to old cannons, and at the top, a stunning view of a typical Spanish town.

Ibiza may be overrun with a European population similar to South Padre and Panama Beach, but in a slightly calmer respect. Perhaps due to the attraction of the many ports, the sailors and fishermen diversified the clientele.

I think my real moments of contentment came while laying by a sweet little life house, propping myself up on the steep massive rocks at the Sant Antoni beach, and climbing the short wall which sloped a tranquil isolated view of the sailboats careening by.

As the Dalai Lama said in Toulouse this last weekend, "A drop of water let into the ocean will live as long as the ocean." Being so close to the lucid aquamarine sea put my mind at ease, making me feel small in an especially comforting way.