Ibiza: Living the Dream (Day2)

We woke up to the sound of a drum and a shrieking from a woman who seemed like she was having her 5th orgasm for the day (it was just seven o'clock in the morning). When I looked down our window, I saw this: A hippie playing his drum while the woman (also a hippie) was dancing with his beats that accompanied the loud flamenco chillout coming from their van.

It was absolutely mad. At seven o'clock, the whole world was still tucked in bed or has just started to and they were creating this (nice) noise that woke up every veins in one's body.We immediately had shower and escaped the hotel to find a better one. Criteria: Must have a lift, an Aircon, a swimming pool, and most important of all, it has to be quiet.

After breakfast, we walked around San Antonio and voila! we found a rather nice hotel Called OROSOL with all the criteria we were looking for.

As for the pool, we had to go to their sister hotel, Tropicana. Since it was (and still is) the peak of the summer season, we had to pay a hundred euros per day for the accommodation but that's ok since the room that we got was on the penthouse overlooking the city (not a breathtaking site but manageable) and we didn't have any neighbors so it was so rightfully so, serene.
After we sorted out our stuff--which means going back to the previous hotel, dragging down our suitcase down from the 4th floor then go to Orosol, check in, unpack again, etc.---we hunted down hotel Tropicana for a quick dip in the pool. Obviously, it was quite difficult for us to know where it was however, the locals are nice people and I mean it. They are very helpful, always ready to flash a smile and tried their best to speak in Castellano (they speak Ibecencan, much like their own mix of local dialect and Catalan). Four turns in rather same streets, we found the hotel and the pool, finally. The pool is impossible to use if you are above 18 years old, we discovered. It was flocked with 18 and belows with music that even the next isle can hear...and actually feel.

So, Since it was about 2pm already, we decided to have lunch and asked the hotel receptionist for the nicest restaurant in the area free from the tourists but something that is the locals' favorite. Voila! We were pointed to Es Ventall (The Fan) . This place is probably the best for lunch. Cozy with a nice garden and superb camarero (waiter) who knew a lot about his wine. Quite a feat for a rather 20-ish year old guy.

baked calabacin on curry sauce topped with crunchy bacon strips.Main Course: Grilled Blue Marlin with Seafood sauce and vegetables. (It was their fish of the day)

It was a sumptuous meal though a little bit expensive for lunch (90 euros for two).

I had to see an old Malaga friend that afternoon in Ibiza town so with a full belly, we drove to the capital to see Jessie. I've known this guy since I came to Spain and he just moved to Ibiza with his relatives to start anew. After 30 minutes of catching up with each other's news, I bid goodbye as we have to go still to San Carlos for the inauguration party of my blog-pal's boutique.

This is Hannah. She runs a blogsite called My Life In Ibiza and she just put up her own boutique. Her collection is a mixture of elegance and fun. See it for yourself.

She was quite busy with her guests so we didn't have much time to talk. We drove to Ibiza Town after a couple of minutes since it was already getting dark and we didn't have a complete grasp of the roads yet.

It was too late to find a decent place to eat and everything is full so we ended up in one of the many Italian restaurants in town. The chef was Italian, the waiters were Italian, the clients were Italian, even the street musician was Italian. Must be an authentic place, I thought. The food was a disappointment for an authentic place though. Bad. I don't even want to mention it here.

Too hammered to do anything, we had a quick walk to around the city and while this loca was begging for attention (and money I guess), we ran to the car and sped off.