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Paradise of sunshine jand cheap Jiving^
— the Balearic isle of Ibiza . . .
Land Of The
Lotus Eaters
by NANCY CASHMORE
THREE Spanish
t'rieuds had kindly
offered to see me off
from Barcelona, but we
were all' late. We arrived
at the wrong whart and then
began running, faster and
faster, pushing into men
with barrows and panting
'Sister! Sister!' for that was
the name of the ship that
sails between Barcelona and
the Balearic Islands. of
which Ibiza is one.
At the fourth whari we
found the Sis.er, her gang
plank be^ng pulled away. I
was the last on board and
waved with an exhausted
arm until the boat pulled out
into the harbor.
As we sailed away, the sky
line of Barcelona grew more
beautiful The Pyrenees rose
palely in the background,
forming a backdrop for the
silhouette of the Gothic
cathedral and the tall statue
of Columbus with one hand
pointing to the horizon. A
few fiShine hosts wprp nnN
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San Antonio. — An ideal spot for swimming, fishing and yachting. Here are Ibiza's
biggest hotels.
San Antonio. — An ideal spot for swimming, fishing and yachting. Here are Ibiza's
biggest hotels.
ting out to sea and the last
pleasure boat was returning
to harbor as we steamed into
the Mediterranezn.
'i was not very comfort
ab.e trying to sleep on the
hatch, but the night was
warm and above was a vel
vety purple sky. spattered
with stars like the Milky
Way After a doze. 1 found
the dawn had broken and the
rocky coastline of fbiza lay
to starboard. Sailing into the
harbor of Ibiza that Sunday
morning was unforgettable,
if only for the sight of the
little symmetrical, white
painted houses, which rise
from the wharf in tiers. They
gleamed in the hot sun and
the emerald water threw up
an answering sparkle.
?
You step straight off the
boat and into a cafe. There
are no customs, no inspection
of passports no fuss and no
question. In front of the cafe
chairs and tables, near the
edge of fie wharf, the fisher
men, were sitting cross
legged, mending their nets. I
watched them as I dr-ans a
glass of bb.ck coffee, for it
was still only .eight o'clock in
the morning
Already the peasant
women were on their way to
church, each dressed in the
traditional costume of the
island. Their dark dresses
fall in knife Dleats from the
shoulder to the ground, and
are topped by a silk cape
with long fringed tassels.
Over their head is tied a
black scarf and their hair is
braided, Mandarin-style, into
one pLiit tied with a bright
red ribbon. Soft canvas shoes
complete the outfit. Their
costume is striking, but their
carriage is magnificent. They
walk like goddesses.
In search of a swim, I
walked a mile round the bay
tc the beach of Talamanca.
After a while more people
began to arrive, speaking
voluble Spanish among
themselves. At lunch time,
the proprietor of a little res
taurant on the beach indi
cated to me in sign language
that he was going to prepare
a meal and had sent his boy
by bicycle to fetch the in
gredients for a paella.
His friends gathered
round, lit three fires, pro
duced three pans, and began
cooking this delicious Span
ish dis'i At t-hrpp iVo''- wo
cisely we sat down at a table
on the beach, the wine gourd
was passed round and we ate
the rice, with pieces of rab-.
bit, whole shrimps, tomatoes,
onions and all manner of
spices added. Then the com
pany insisted that I sing
'Happy Birthday.' not be
cause it was anybody's birth
day, but because they liked
the tune.
Meanwhile, the gourd was-
still being passed rapidly Ex
perts can get the wine to
trickle through the fine
spout, into their mouths, ai
a distance of about a foot, but
beginners are advised to hold
the gourd nearer, otherwise
it runs down the neck and
on to the knees.
That night was fiesta night
in Ibiza, and a four piece
band played under my 'win-
dow until an early hour of
the morning while every
body— or so it seemed — talked
loudly or danced.
?
The next- day, I took a irip
in a rickety old bus across
the island to San Anto-iio.
past country that was dry
and parched but strangely
lovely. Men in sombreros
worked in the fields with
their little donkeys and all
the houses were square and
white, and the earth a
slightly pink color.
San Antonio is set on e.
bay, ringed with more wnite
houses. -I fished for sar
iines here with a small boj
who offered his line and hi.
lough fresh from the baker's
As the little fish swim up
to the bait, which is wrapped
round the hook, and bite,
bhen is the crucial moment to
pull up the line. It wa
typicai of the charming man
ners and kindliness of the
Ibizan people that tnis little
boy should offer his line
especially as I caught ius'
two small fish.
The return r;om San An
tonic was even more
crowded and stuffy. The
driver of the swaying bus nac.
the best seat, and possiblj
that was why he gaily picked
up more people and thei.
luggage all along the road
impervious to the gruam
from his passengers as thev
piled almost on top of one
another, I was nursing mj
neighbor's fowl, which she
hfld put mtc a basket for
That night I took the Doat
from Ibiza back to Spain,
and this time there was
music on Hie hatch. A
Spaniard produced a guitar
ma a young gul from An
dalusia sang melodies while
she played the castanets.
Some energetic Spaniards
danced on the deck, but
gradually, with the rolling, ot
the ship, the music became
more of a lullaby to the tired
passengers, and everybody
slept.
We reached the port of
Valencia early in the morn
ing, when hundrefls. of fish
ing vessels were scattered
about the bay and the fisner
men were singing.
The memory of Ibiza is of
the land of the lotus eafers,
where all things always
seem the same. To the tour
ist, and there are compara
tively few of them, it is a
paradise, not only of sun
shine and swimming, but ol
prices, for a good three
course meal can be had for
less than two shillings.
One learns very quickly the
word 'manyank,' and why
should tomorrow not do,
when each day is as sunny
as the one before, and the
pace of life is slowed .down
to such a degree that one ap
preciates the very Dest
thines of life to the full. It
is a quiet island, with iust
a handful of taxi cabs and
private cars, and. of course
the vintage bus.
There are not many posters
n travel bureaux about
Ibiza, perhaps for the simple
?eason that its charms are
iifficult to put into words:
5ut they exist, nevertheless.
o that after a short visit one
really believes Ibiza was the
island where Ulysses found
the lotus eaters.
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Ibiza harbor. — The houses rise tier upon tier from the calm green harbor.
Ibiza harbor. — The houses rise tier upon tier from the calm green harbor.
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