A few hours later, I was in my room settling in. I had a quick shower, got changed and went out exploring. As soon as I had set foot out of the hotel premises, roughly three fairly large (as in obese) coloured, men approached me, squabbling on in what sounded like Spanish. One had a cardboard tray full of stale doughnuts, while the other two were trying to get my attention with what looked to be an expensive amount of jewellery. I barged my through the three of them, and just kept walking, fairly swiftly in any direction to try and lose those nutter’s. Turned around when I had reached the beach, and I noticed they were now harassing some other poor soul.
There were not that many people on the beach really, just the usual people sunbathing happily with an open book draped over their faces. Then, again it happened, the local banana boat man came speeding around the corner with his engine on full throttle making the loudest racket that could be possibly made by an engine of that size. It was like he was determined to wake the dead or something. Also, I noticed he had a grumpy, cranky look on his face, like he hated his job. I wouldn’t really mind it, cruising around the ‘Med’ on a speed boat in hot weather as a living. Do me any day of the week thank you. He picked up a group of six people, id say they looked about twenty or so and sped off back from where he’d just came.
Just at the end of the beach, slightly raised above the ground was a small bar. It seemed quite a nice place, so I thought I’d pop in there for a quiet drink and some lunch. The waiter behind the bar was watching me from the beach, right to the bottom of the steps leading up to the bar I noticed. Then as soon as I sat down, there he was, right behind me with his little notepad and pen asking what I would like. He seemed quite a polite bloke and his English wasn’t that bad either.
As the day drew to an end I thought I would go and check out the nightlife around my hotel. The only problem was, as I was to out, there was nothing at all.
At night, this resort was closed, boring and asleep, all except for one nice little restaurant with a small park at the rear. It was the only place open, so it was a go really. It turned out to be a fairly nice place, service was good, the people were polite and friendly and the food was extremely good.
As I was sitting there after my meal, I suddenly realised how silent was everything. All that could be heard was the odd shout coming from the hotel and the sea creeping up the beach and then retreating back again. This time there was no grumpy, old banana boat man to spoil the peace and quiet, so I thought. Then, came the bin men. Wonderful I thought what kind of local council has the bin men call at ten in the evening? It seriously confused me. They were fairly odd people as well, they had dirty looking faces and green overall type clothes. They were mumbling some sort of gibberish to each other as well whilst wheeling every bin they could find towards the lorry.
After they had left, it was closing time for the restaurant. I paced my way back to the hotel slowly enjoying the sound of the sea. It’s quite a soothing sound really. Even though this resort was more boring than watching paint dry, it was extremely relaxing. Not really what you would expect when you go to Ibiza.
Paul Taylor 10L