The Number Field

For the fall half-term break, we wanted to go someplace sunny, to load up on Vitamin D and memories of the sand and the surf as a defense against the long, dark winter that was just beginning. Jenny found a deal on a flight to Ibiza, a Mediterranean island off the south coast of Spain. It’s best known for wild nightlife, but we were pretty sure we would be able to find activities to suit our schedule and interests. As soon as we landed at the aiport and stepped out into the warm air and palm trees, we knew it would be a good trip.

We had rented an apartment all the way across the island from the airport, but it was only an hour’s drive–even with the windy roads that took us over the hills that guard the northern coast. From the balcony of the apartment, we had a great view of the beautiful beach below. Elena and Roman could hardly wait to put on their swimsuits and get out there. We bought some buckets and shovels on the short walk down there, and in the process came to realize that the season was just about over, and most of the shops and restaurants in the area would be closing for the winter during our stay. They may have removed all the lounge chairs from the beach and taken the glass-bottomed boats out of the inlet by the last day of our visit, but we didn’t need those things anyway. Elena and Roman had so much fun. They couldn’t get enough of running in and out of the water, building sand castles, dumping sand in the water, running in and out of the water some more, getting sand everywhere.

Even though the beach by our hotel probably would have been enough to hold Elena’s and Roman’s attention for the whole week, Jenny and I wanted to get out and explore the rest of the island. We spent one afternoon exploring the fortress walls and alleyways the ancient D’alt Vila (high town) in Ibiza Town, imagining what it would have been like to have lived there centuries ago. Another day, we ventured to Ibiza’s second city, Sant Antoni, where we walked along the pier and watched the ferry set off for the mainland before turning into town, wandering through streets that seemed deserted, but would clearly have been pulsing with energy every night during the summer. Another day we visited the hippy market outside of Santa Eularia, where we bought a painting from a local artist as a souvenir. That evening, we ventured into the town and found a place that seemed to be less affected by the seasonal changes we had observed elsewhere.

Other adventures took us further off the beaten trail. We tried to hike to a scenic lighthouse we could see in the distance from our hotel. Our attempt to go in that direction quickly turned into a directionless bushwack for which we were not prepared, so we retreated until we found a trail and enjoyed a nice, relaxed hike through the forest. Even though we were very satisfied with the beach that was closest to us, we wanted to experience some of Ibiza’s other offerings. One afternoon we found a secluded cove that appeared to once have been the home of a large abandoned structure, which might have once been a resort hotel. It was a rocky beach, so the kids and I spent a lot of time throwing rocks in the water, and even convinced Jenny to join in a little bit.

A longer excursion took us to a beach that overlooks Es Vedra, a small island off the western coast of Ibiza which is rumored to have mystical properties. The drive there was not the easiest–we made at least a few wrong turns, and Jenny got rather car sick–but it was worth it in the end. The beach was absolutely beautiful, and the sight of Es Vedra was as magical as promised. We didn’t go into the water very far or for very long, because of the presence of jellyfish, but even that wasn’t so bad, because we caught one of the jellyfish in a bucket and were able to examine from up close. We even met another family that was originally from the USA, though now living in Barcelona. They had a daughter named Elena who was about the same age as our Elena; the two of them enjoyed playing together and trying to catch lizards.

One element of the trip that perhaps wasn’t quite as good as we had hoped was our dining experience. For breakfast and lunch, we did the best we could with the things that the one nearby bodega still had in stock. We did have some very good dinners, but they weren’t necessarily Spanish cuisine, including hot dogs and burgers at an American-themed diner, and Mexican food at a place called Taco Paco. Other times, we had to take what we could get because most of the restaurants were already closed for the season. Overall, the food was just a small blemish on an otherwise lovely trip. We were sad to leave it behind, but the fact that the airport was nearly empty on the day was a reminder that we were among the last tourists on the island, and a signal that it really was time for us to head home, back to work and school and the cold winds and rains of Yorkshire.