Ashes to Ashes
In a moment of gloriously morbid introspection earlier I decided that when I die I´d like my ashes scattered from the top of the Puig des Molines (the rocks in front of the apartments) into the ocean, 200 feet below. All entirely fitting on the site of a Roman Necropilis of course.
Sunday June 11, very late
I sat here resisting the urge to go out on the town again tonight . I think it´s important not to overdue things here and burn out, god knows I´ve seen plenty of people do it. You just go home feeling tired and listless. Not a good look, not a great feeling.
Eye- eye
Ummm. I forgot to add earlier, I got a good reaction from the Spanish barman at Anfora last night as well. When he first saw me, he said something I couldn´t make out but I took to be at least generally complimentary, as he seemed to be smiling when he said it (which was probably ´you, you old tart, back here again are you? in Spanish´)
But the second time I bought a drink he spoke to me directly and I thought he said ´you´re really ugly´. And as he didn´t smile particularly, I thought ´god you´ve changed your tune haven´t you´. But I wasn´t particularly upset as I was in too good a mood by that time. The third time I got a drink (yes, I know, it was always him serving me..) when he gave me my change he closed his fist around it such that I had to squeeze his hand open to get it out of him , definitely flirtatious behaviour. So I think the second time he actually said ´your really lovely´. I think he was trying to get me to go to the toilet cubicle but I didn´t catch on. Sometime I don´t see stuff when it just stares me in the face, winking.
Cute Spanish men
Perhaps fortuitously, behind the apartments in the valley beneath the Dalt Vila´s imposing Cathedral is a military apartment hotel and at the moment they are building a swimming pool and tennis courts, though they are onto the landscaping part now. This necessitates a lot of earth and sand being moved and guess who is on hand to do all the dirty work?
Yes, half a dozen lads, half in combat uniforms and boots. I guess they are doing military service . However, most of the time they are pretty lazy and sit around doing very little it, seems to me, possibly as they seem to be more or less unsupervised. A little more discipline could be installed by someone, in the ranks, I think. I will report back on any further action.
London from a distance
Without wanting to sound too mardy about it, I find it more and more difficult to say what exactly makes me want to stay in London, after being somewhere like this. Obviously there´s the job, boyfriend, house etc. Beyond that I am struggling . Although it is tempting to say for the culture, nightlife and wonderful gay ghettos we have built, I´m not sure that they really make up for the downside of being in a large city, the pollution, noise , crime, space deprivation and so on. I apologised to friends for coming away to Ibiza again before because I felt I needed to escape but having been here now a few days I feel less apologetic as it is clearly so obviously better for me , a better place to be in environmentally and I think spiritually. There´s nothing wrong with escaping but you understand you have to find ways to survive in your chosen home as well, hence the idea of doing some counselling that will help me with my mood swings at home. I do not get them here in the same way.
Waves of sound are waves of sleep
One of the things I particularly like about being close to the sea is the sound of water constantly moving in one way or another, and being depending on a calm or rough sea – it´s so relaxing to lie in bed at night and let yourself drift off, waves in your head, to sleep. And to wake up in the morning is inherently refreshing as well. Better than the neighbours shouting next door any day.
Tuesday June 13th early
Woke to find the sun shining , the sea sparkling outside, and with not a breathe of wind to stir the glassy surface.
Tuesday June 13th noon
Looking back at the pages Ive written so far in this diary you would be forgiven for thinking that Ibiza was all about getting your rocks off. Well the reality is for some I suppose it is, that and clubbing each night. But the island is what you make it , what you want it to be. You could have a fulfilling time here exploring the campo, the countryside, the little coves and all the archaeological sites. Alternatively, it can be a beach holiday staying in all evening playing games or whatever, going out for meals from time to time.
But the knack I think, is to do what you want to do here and enjoy it without getting too fixated by thinking that´s all there is to the island. It annoys me a little when people say its all just sex and clubbing.Surely that is like saying the same about London, its there but there are so many other things.
The squaddies saga continues..
Oh yes, one thing I forgot to mention about the squaddies ( I will call them that for the sake of a better description) is that the most assertive one who has his top off as often as possible had the endearing habit of rubbing his chest and stomach semi absent mindedly much of the time. To me its an obviously sexualised gesture and I´m not sure how he gets away with it . Whatever the reason it´s extremely becoming.
More fascination as one decided to have a piss on site in full view of all. I could clearly see it arching out in a golden stream . I think maybe Spanish men are less bashful about these things than the repressed Brits are.
June 13th mid afternoon; My thanks to the Military
No, this isnt a return to the previous topic. Id just been speaking to a man called Neil , in one of the top apartments. Incredibly he has been coming here since 1970 when they were built evidently, around 25 years ago. He has seen through all the gossip and turmpoil that has enabled the place to remain relatively unspoilt when all around has been built apon. Evidently it is basically dowm to the military. Evidently they own most of the wild land behind the apartments hence why it has never been built apon in that time period. So now I have two good reasons to be grateful to the Spanish Army it seems.
He also told me that a plan to build on the rocks in front of the apartments , on the Puig des Molines, where I am lying right now was thwarted some years ago by the residents here as they said the land was unsafe due to the rock stratification there. After an inspection the government officials agreed with them. Hence Apartmentos Rosello, survive with their views unobstructed to the back and the front (And as a footnote I am pleased to report that three decades later, remarkably, it remains empty)
On to An Ibizan diary June 1995 part 3
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