Thursday, September 22, 2011
This is not Inception
I have a long history with the Ibiza; any attempt of recounting stories or divulging the depth of belonging that place fills me with would lead to a never ending story. When I first met my friend Ripp, my original experiences were still a fresh wound. Three months of a dream job in a dream location will leave an impact on you. He swears it was all I ever talked (about at the time) to the brink of irritation. Thankfully he never punched me in the face, but he did introduce me to Claire for which I gave him a very heartfelt, though alcoholicly motivated, "thank you" via his wedding videographer. She would also come to love the island the way I do, but fortunately for Ripp, she won't be talking his ear off about it any time soon.
There will always be unfinished business with Ibiza, you simply can not do it all. It's a comforting thought knowing the island will always be there. With the things that remain the same and the many things that change, it keeps calling us back. This time was no different. Even after three weeks of the place, we would go back there in a heart beat given the chance. Our friend Virginia asked how we didn't go broke after three weeks in Ibiza and the answer was simple: we didn't go clubbing. We went native. We went deeper into the dream.
Sure there was every DJ we ever wanted to see playing every night in the worlds best clubs, but there was a long list of things we always wanted to do the and know was our chance. With the exception of Cocoon on Mondays, we only went to three other parties, one of which we only stayed for an hour. The rest of the time was spent exploring the island. Of the 80 plus beaches some guides will list, we maybe hit 20. This included the very north of the island in Sant Miguel (where we caught the folk dancing exhibition), to Cala Llonga in the east, Es Cavallet in the south and Cala Comte in the west. The last of which was the most confusing to realize as we had been looking for Cala Conta not knowing it was the same beach, just listed in a different dialect (they speak up to three on the island, Spanish, Catalan and Ibicenco).
We had a manageable "to do" list, but still missed some of the islands highlights. Every new experience or adventure created two or three new ones. Swimming became snorkeling, snorkeling became deep sea fishing, and deep sea fishing became roasting the days catch on a cliffside bonfire over looking Es Vedra under a full moon while naked. We got as far as snorkeling. Even after four trips together, we still have not gone to D'alt Villa or the caves in Sant Miguel. We did however, finally make it to Formenterra. We went deeper still.
I've always been in love with Ibiza, but Formenterra revealed a whole knew level of appreciation to enjoy. It's as if you could go back in time to before the hippies, celebrities and British made Ibiza what it is today (take that statement however you want). Charming is an understatement. The beaches were prettier, quieter, with cleaner, clearer water than I Ever could have imagined possible. We had rented bicycles an attempted the ride to Migjorn, but after getting as far as Pujols, we did the math and realized we would never make the return trip in time to enjoy it. We did an about face and settled for Pujols and Llevnt. I use the word "Settled" loosely as in reality we were rewarded for such a decision. It is so picturesque, there was even a small shipwreck on one of the rocks not more than twenty meters from the shore. The more curious were constantly scorned by the lifeguard, but we were able to go snorkeling on the near side opposite the wreck.
One afternoon in Formenterra simply wasn't enough time there, leaving us with a renewed sense of returning someday. If we could see ourselves living in Ibiza, Formenterra is where we'd retire. Slower, quieter, and more charming than it's bigger sister, yet both are equally alluring in their own ways.
The ferry ride back to Ibiza was just as rocky as the trip there, but two mojitos at the sunset bar before hand made it a little more tolerable (then again, not much isn't tolerable after two mojitos). We have sat beach side at Carmens in Cala d'hort over looking Es Vedra every trip before, but not until this journey did we recognize the dragon shape for which the the rocky islands are named. Journeys like this are supposed to afford travelers insights and new perspectives, but in this instance it was comically literal.
Equally laughable is the perspective we now share that we went to Formentera to get away from Ibiza to get away from a six month around the world honeymoon.
A dream within a dream within a dream.