Ibiza is one of those islands in the Balearics whose happy conjunction of balmy weather and antiquity conspire to induce a feeling of well-being in the traveller. I hiked up through the old portal of the citadel of Eveissa (that's its Catalan name) into a whitewashed town that hugged the face of a steep hillside. Up I went through winding cobblestoned pathways to the ramparts of the citadel, reputed to be the best preserved in the Mediterranean. Fantastic views of the sea greeted me, as did groups of other tourists, British and German, who looked at me curiously. I even heard one little boy from a window mocking me with a singsonglike chinese nonsense. i've gotten so accustomed to it that I ignored their stares and went on enjoying the place. There is a serenity about the place, the cathedral, the cream-colored ramparts that reminded me of those sleepy baroque churches in the Philippines and the other forts and citadels that the Spaniards left behind. Back at the foot of the hill I hooked up with Peter and Lindy, the ships duo, and we went traipsing about the old city where we settled into the El Faro restaurant. We had a magnificent spanish dinner consisting of mussels (red wine/tarragon/olive oil/garlic and tomato sauce), the freshest, sweetest tasting shrimps, paella a la valenciana (chicken, mussels, shrimps, crabs, salty saffron rice,clams) , two pitchers of sangria, apple schnapps, and a vicious chocolate/cognac drink called lumumba cafe (cuba libre). We went back to the wrong tender boat, but finally made it back to the Costa Romantica to join other intoxicated crewmembers. It was a beautiful, gastronomically satisfying evening in the Balearics.
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