I think I’m slowly losing my mojo for writing spring break recaps. I’m way exhausted and feeling a wee bit on the unmotivated side.
All in all, this past week has been beyond expectations awesome. Things were said and done, and I somehow ended up with a Jamaican alter ego named Mama Jamón. It’s obviously a great milestone in my life. Otherwise, why else would the name be capitalized? Do I know what I’m talking about? No, and that is why I’m Mama Jamón.
Also, I almost fractured my tailbone slipping on a wooden staircase in my friction-less flip flops. I almost busted a knee cap walking into a hydrant-size pole on the sidewalks of Madrid. And, I almost busted a cheekbone walking into a traffic light box…after watching the ground to avoid the stupid hydrant-size sidewalk poles. But I’m still alive, and that is all.
For once, I didn’t think about school, work, or the CPA’s. For once, I ate jamón, paella & tapas galore, arroz con leche, helado con café at mcD’s, and drank sangria and coke light without feeling aggravated over my meat-packed pregnant-looking belly. I proudly wore my once-loose jeans, and spent the same amount at Zara’s as I did on the whole trip, airfare and hostels combined. Okay, that’s an overstatement…but after looking at my credit card statement, it sure feels that way. Being back at NYC is actually quite depressing.
Ibiza, Spain (aka Eivissa), with Yvette and Gina.
It’s really pronounced ee-bee-tha. Just say “Ibiza” with a lisp.
Before I continue, I must clarify…it’s WINTER time there, so no, there were no crazy trance parties, no wild rendezvous at the beach, no extremely drunken moments (only semi-drunk…teehee). Ibiza in the winter is amazingly beautiful and peaceful. The weather is around mid-60’s Fahrenheit.
So then, you might ask, what exactly did we do there?
[insert a car commercial, then an all-purpose cleaner commercial, then an ad for Bally’s total fitness]
…smelled lemons! (You’re not meant to understand, so don’t start questioning your intelligence level.)
Las Dalias market at San Carlos
Ibiza old town – D’alt Vila
No words, or even pictures, can capture just how amazing the view is.
Honestly, we came to Ibiza without an agenda except to see a beautiful beach and have some fun in one of their iconic clubs. Other than that, we had no idea what else to expect and probably came here poorly planned. And, while that may sound like a lazy approach, the spontaneity actually made it that much more awesome. Meandering around the old town when it was off season and discovering the surrounding area were unforgettable experiences. Needless to say, we got lucky.
We went to Pacha on a Saturday night which started getting busy at around 3am. We were basically hit on by every Spanish and British guy there. We were stared at during the whole time we were dancing…then I looked at the local girls on the dance floor, and I saw why. Picture quadriplegic girls moving their asses in spasms…and that’s how they danced.
Met up with Heej, Justin, Dawn, Hin and Lou.
Symbol of Madrid: el oso y el madroño.
Or, in ignorant terms, a dumb bear attacking a dumb tree.
Palacio Real, a real palace. Just kidding, it actually translates to Royal Palace.
Parque del Retiro
And, the other ladies.
Hin, with his stuffed lion (named Carne):
Hin: “If I didn’t buy this t-shirt, I could’ve bought a [real pet] bunny”
Me: “Err, that sure is a non-pansy pet to have”
Hin: “FINE. Then I’ll get a BIG bunny.”
We didn’t realize that the normal time for dinner in Spain was around 10pm and that people didn’t really go out until at least midnight. So, we found an empty bar that happened to be open early which was ironically named Bar Cock, as we apparently got shafted with bad cocktails.
Dawn: “So, does everybody like their cocks?”
Me: “Let’s toast to the worst cocks we’ve ever tasted.”
Justin: “I’m never having Spanish cock ever again!”
This photo sums up our trip, and probably every occasion we get together back in NYC.
Sangria – Apparently, “you are what you drink.” Red and fruity (referring to Justin and Hin only).