Life is better on bike

On June 12, 2015February 25, 2016 By Conversations with StrangersIn Ibiza, Travel/vacationsLeave a comment

I know these guys – they’re always on time. Rushing up to our apppointed meeting at the entrance to Camping Escana five minutes early – there he was just waiting. “Hola” I called out excitedly.

A tall dark and it must be said, fairly handsome gentleman nodded and proceeded to turn around and unlock the van. I reached his side. He leant down and we kiss kissed. “Ah, two cheeks like in Spain!” he grinned as we introduced ourselves.

The van doors opened wide to reveal two white steed-like bikes, each with the packaging still on. “They’re brand new” Eric said looking back over his shoulder as he jumped in to grab one for me. “We get them straight from industry.”
“Ah – you mean from the manufacturers?” I enquired.
“Yes, exactly – from Orbea.” He lifted the nearest one down, removed the blue wrapping and we stood back to admire her.

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Disco dancing Jagger style

On March 30, 2015February 25, 2016 By Conversations with StrangersIn Entertainment, Ibiza, London, Parties, People you may have heard ofLeave a comment

I can always tell when my cousin is on the school run. Apart from the time itself – around 4.45pm – the bellowing wind enveloping her usually causes a shouting match as she marches up the hill towards her son’s place of learning.

Me: “RACH! LOVELY HJORDIS FROM IBIZA HAS SENT AN INVITATION TO WHAT LOOKS LIKE A PROPER OLD SKOOL DISCO NIGHT. IT’S CALLED THE RETURN OF JEZEBEL HOSTED BY BODY AND SOUL – A CHARITY – AND JADE JAGGER.”

Rach: (even louder than me): THAT SOUNDS NICE! COUNT ME IN!

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Lottie Bogotti

On September 5, 2014December 4, 2014 By Conversations with StrangersIn Fashion, Ibiza1 Comment

Sometimes I like a bit of vintage. The thing is I’m not so keen on the accompanying mustiness and endless jumble of rails that one has to endure to find some treasure.

‘Lottie Bogotti’ is thankfully a different shopping experience.

I wandered in, seaweed strewn from the beach, wet bikini marks on my T-shirt from a recent swim and said Hi to Hannah and her daughter – whose name emblazons this cute little tienda in San Carles, Ibiza.

“It’s so hard to find a strapless top or dress anywhere, Hannah – I don’t suppose you have one, do you?” As always, one only has to ask and like a magician she pulls exactly the thing you’re looking for ‘out of a hat’ as it were. Disappearing downstairs she returned with a brightly coloured stash of frothy Indian silk – impossible to describe – but just what I wanted. “Here, you can have this one – it’s got a hole in it so I can’t sell it – and it’s your colour!” I headed to the changing room and slipped it on.

A gentle background of golden orange with a teeny tiny flowery print, its elastic shape fitted to my chest, flowed from there, hugged my hips and then frou frou’ed out shortly to just cover my derriere – very cute.

“It’s perfect, Hannah – thank you!” I exclaimed. I got us some drinks and we sat on the two little stools inside, chewing the fat. People started arriving, picking up this and that, holding up pieces to themselves in the mirror, trying on sparkly necklaces and asking to see different delicacies in the cabinets.

“You’re bringing me customers” Hannah said as I showed the shops’ namesake my camera and asked her if she’d take a few shots. “But why don’t you make a film instead?” she asked. “Well, that’s a really good idea, Lottie, but we don’t have time today. I’ve got no lights on my bike and I need to head home before it gets dark.”

“You cover a lot of ground on that bike – imagine how much you’d do if you had a car!” “I dread to think, Hannah, it’s all I can do to keep up with myself on two wheels.”

As customers purchased everything from vintage clothing to Cowboy boots to heart shaped sunglasses and funky handbags, I sat there sewing up my latest love and bracing myself for the ride home.

An evening with Jérôme

On August 25, 2014March 30, 2015 By Conversations with StrangersIn Ibiza, People you may have heard ofLeave a comment

We arrived at the after party. Jérôme had invited me. I’d looked my hostess in the eye at the gig prior – a glance that said: ‘Is he okay this guy?’ “Oh yes, you should go S, it’ll be fun” she’d replied.

Our jeep ride to post-performance shenanigans had us chatting away about everything from the West of Ireland to my photographic attempts for Conversations with strangers. “Get one of these for a start” Jérôme told me, pointing to his holster-like belt which contained a small camera not dissimilar to mine.

On arriving at a fabled hotel in the countryside, I recognised I was indeed walking in with the photographer of the island as Jérôme continued to fill me in on his work: “I take all the photos of the artists that perform at Ibiza Rocks.” “Gosh, really?” I said. “Yes, and perhaps you’ve seen my book – portraits of the people that live here – it’s called ‘Ibiza People?’”

He showed me a pic of the book cover on his phone. “Oh, you know I think I have seen it in various places.” “Probably” he went on. “And, all the smart villas – they have my photographs.”

A commotion at the entrance to reception interrupted our chat. Suitcases and their accompanying guests appeared with the excitement of arriving finally at a holiday destination. “Sophie, Soph, can you bring that bag here, I need my passport!” Soph appeared, out of breath wearing a hat, short backless dress and flip flops. “Here you go darling.” Then, seeing us – and specifically my handsome companion: “Hello, hello, who are you? Do we know you? Have we met before?!” “I am a photographer. My name is Jérôme Ferrière – perhaps you have heard of me?” “Ahhhh! Enchanté, enchanté! Bonsoir!”

Before I knew it Jérôme was hastening to his jeep to fetch a couple of his books. “Wait for me, I’ll be back” he called over his shoulder. Minutes later we were all flicking through it. “Oh, mais c’est magnifique, ça!” exclaimed Sophie. “Oui, oui, c’est vrai. Ooh la la!”

Two book sales down, we headed inside and I got a guided tour of his arresting portraits adorning practically everywhere you looked.

We stopped at a large black and white photograph of Nile Rogers. “Let’s have a selfie with Nile, Jérôme, but I think you’d better take it” I said, opening my handbag to search for my camera.

Freshly squeezed

On August 21, 2014December 4, 2014 By Conversations with StrangersIn Ibiza, Life, Travel/vacations1 Comment

There were too many options. Too many sources of stimulation. Despite a very active preceding day cycling from one end of Ibiza to the other and a very late night I was up again early – keen to carpe diem at Can Du.

Waking in a sleeping house, I quietly closed the kitchen door behind me. The bag of oranges awaited. This was after all one of the reasons I’d chosen to stay here – a delightful picture of several sliced with a tall glass of their juice on the website had looked so appetising, so appealing.

Through the fly screen I could see a few drops of rain. I reached inside the cupboard brought out the electric juicer and plugged it in. The oranges were soft and succumbed easily to being sliced open, juice running out of them onto the chopping board. I placed a half on the plastic fountain and pressed down.

The door opened. T walked in and immediately came over to check on progress. “There doesn’t seem to be much in this orange” I said. “That’s because you’re not using the correct method. I’ve been juicing for three years – let me show you how.”

I let him take over and walked over to the door. The rain was falling heavily now, splashing off the tiles, drenching the clothing hanging on the line.

I turned to watch the Juicer. Hand over the top of the orange with one finger from his other hand pressing down lightly on the dome. “You see, this method gets out every last drop” he said, taking the half off the machine to show me a bare interior.

I tried a couple more and then handed it over to the maestro while I went over to puruse the rain and debated whether I should run out to take the wet washing in.

Ashley arrived. “Good morning. What’s going on here, eh? You two juicing?” We both smiled at him. “Yes, that’s exactly what we’re doing.”

T started to concoct breakfast – some muesli, Greek yogurt, freshly squeezed orange pulp, a few seeds. “Would you like some fresh pineapple in your juice S?” he asked. “I would, please” I replied.

Ashley joined me at the fly screen. “Everything gets so wet here” he said. “Yes, I know, but look, it’s passed now” I replied, feeling the heat suddenly as the sun parted the clouds and made everything clear again.