Ibiza…

?and so it was the week gone saw meself heddin’ off to the Spanish island of Ibiza to re-visit old pals met i whence there in 2004 with the grail lads. not too much changed as such, still hot, still nice, dustier a touch as a big hoor of a motorway is gettin plonked in between Ibiza town and San Antonio. i landed there with…?about 40 euro and a half baked plan to see me through four or five days. after a cuppa at cafe Azul in Eivissa town and a bus ride to San An i tracked down old friend, characiturist, drummer, hard case, Algerian, Ahmed. ‘oh my f***’n God!’ said he. such was his surprise at seeing yours truly walkin down the road.?after catchin’ up and dumpin’ me gear at his place off i ambled to see who else i could catch up with. as i by now i had no credit on ye ol’ cell phone there was a bit of hit and miss involved. but by the end of the night i’d managed to catch up with Craig and Kirsty, a few of the old Donegan-ites and Sergio and Paula at Khumaras. along the way i had a beer with Jimmy the para sailing Irish man (or was he a scot? i can’t recall) and shakin’ the hand of ol boss Javier.?all that and a mean old blues jam at ‘chupitos bar’ with a chap named? Jim Rhodes (on his original ‘Robin Ford fender custom shop gat…very nice) as well. ’twas a blast!!

?day two was a chilled affair lazin’ on the beach, swimmin’, ?readin Bob Dylans ‘chronicles’ which i’d picked up on the way through Stansted, and swimmin’ some more.?i visited the old villa and found that the two kittens we’d looked after in 2004 were happy and healthy and now had 14 or so other cat friends/rellies living with them.. all immaculately groomed and cared for by an obvious cat-lovin’ woman named Marylin… classic stuff. the evenin i spent cruisin San An Bay for soul food and a place to eat. stayed with Craig and Kirsty agin?and in the mornin i was heddin to ‘the hippy market’

?met a dude named Ramero? and forty or so of his school buddies on the bus and gave him his first drumming lesson after which he went and bought a drum at the market 😉 ah it’s so nice to see the yungins gettin into it… i had?busk but it was kind’ve a sown up scene so i called it a day and wondered around chekin’ the markets and swimmin in?Es Canar… as you do… niiiiice!!!

?that night after catchin’ up with me ol’ buddy Ahmed and chattin to Rafael about gigs at the Beach House Bar i hedded again up to ‘chupitos’ where?Jim Rhodes was hosting a rockin out kick arse jam night… and rock we did til the wee small hours whence dave realised he’d missed the boat?for home (Craig & Kirsty’s) and wound up bunkin’ down on the beach for the night… as one can do in Ibiza.

?the next day i realised i was?rich if i was in China but very poor in Eivissa.. a word to travelers of the dis organised nature…?DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT TRYING TO CHANGE CHINESE?MONEY IN IBIZA… IT WONT HAPPEN!! so after i’d tried?to change my chinese money into Euros at about six banks i realised i was in the crapper with out a toilet brush. but then?me ol’ buddy Bex at the internet cafe came through for me and changed my worthless chinese notes into 10 euro!! oh the delight… enuff for a man to get from?San Antonio, Ibiza, Spain to Dingle, County Kerry, Ireland…. easy!! so after leaving good bye?jottings for various buddies and thanking Bex profusely i hedded back round thru?San Jose? round the south of the Island bak?to Eivissa and the Airport… leaving Ibiza i felt intact. it?was a mixed feeling.?the end of a long chapter….?felt gooood. real good..

?fire works in Barcelona from how ever many hundreds of feet up in the air, looked almost insignificant… London massif at night from the air… the morning sun greets me at the top of an escalator i wondered if i looked like Mr. Bean. i sit beside a spanish couple on the stansted – kerry flite and speak more spanish… i love the language… they’re off to Camp, a place near Tralee… i hitch hike and pull out the guitar and try to re call the words and chords to ‘pros and cons of hitch-hikin’ by Roger Waters…’an angel on a harley pulls across to greet a fellow rolling stone… puts his bike up on it’s stand kicks back, extends a scarred and greasy hand…’ and so-on. i feel like i’m in a song. Brian and his wife from 12 miles west of dublin pick me up and drop me at Jons door step…

?sleep, eat…

?we rehearse sporadically for a gig the following day, nerves like soft barbed wire coiled around my intestines strangulate my breathing, make it tense. new venue nerves… happens often. the gig goes great with the Cinn Ard crew comin’ along to support us 😉 Jon and i go into a void in ‘funkin c’ a place that has no time. ‘ode for a found harmonium’ rocks… they want us bak there again, i feel like helium

?

?

?

?

?

0 replies

Leave a Reply

Want to join the discussion?
Feel free to contribute!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *