Departure Day, May 11th:

An inauspicious start - Jer's plane from SF and Bob's from LA were two hours late taking off due to thunder storms in NYC. They reassured us that other departing planes would also be delayed, so our flight to Lisbon would be, too. Sure! Our two hour respite, which we had planned at the Delta Crown Room at JFK evaporated, and when Jerry arrived in NYC, he rushed to the Lisbon departure gate to find Bob just then checking in at the counter. In his white hat and coat, no less! The Lisbon flight was leaving on time, and we weren't sure that our bags would actually get on the plane. But, off we went.

About half an hour out of New York, the captain came on and said that we would have to return to JFK due to mechanical difficulty. He didn't sound worried, but of course, that's the way they're supposed to sound; we were worried. However, we landed OK, and spent an hour there while they fixed a sensor on the landing gear. And, off again we went, this time for sure to Lisbon. The plane had an interesting display on the movie screen, showing our progress, speed, ETA, and so on. Borrowed from the Concord? We arrived in Lisbon at 10:45am Friday. Lisbon is 9 hours ahead of the Pacific coast.

Lisbon arrival, May 12th, weather pleasant:

Customs, immigration, and bag claim were no problem, and we quickly found a taxi to town for 2000 escudos, a Mercedes taxi, no less. We found out that most of the taxis were Mercedes Benz's, very classy! Our destination was the Hotel Botanico in the Bairro Alto, or upper town. The room wasn't quite ready for us, said the snivel-nosed clerk (when the hotel clerk reviewed our reservation, he wrinkled up his nose as if to indicate that some foul odor had just arrived, weird!). So, we strolled around the neighborhood. The buildings in the area, residential and mostly businesses in the ground floor, were very old and deteriorating. But, they had a certain old world charming look to them.

The hotel room was finally ready, a small room that looked like a ship's quarters, built of wall panels. Bathroom was dinky, with a combo shower-bidet, and funny chrome knobs near the ceiling. Having been awake for a good long time, we decided to nap a bit. Rested, we promenaded, or something like that, on the grand avenue called the Liberdade. Making our way up to the Bairro Alto, we tried to find a restaurant called Bota Alta that we had on our list. A very nice young man who was parking his car, insisted we follow him, so he could show us where it was. It was a cozy, local kind of restaurant with no English menu, but with such incredibly good looking waiters, we didn't care! As we left, there were quite a few people waiting to get in. We wandered around, looking for a fado bar for Bob, but as it was only about 10pm, nothing was happening yet. We located some other places that looked like good dining spots and planned to come back for dinner in the area. At that point, we thought getting the jet lag under control would be our best option.

Lisbon, May 13th, weather sunny, perfect:

Had slept in fits and starts, and then finally sound asleep, startled to find it was noon! So, we jumped up and got around and out for the day. Taking a taxi to Castel St Jorge was a great idea and a perfect way to view Lisbon. A wonderful, old castle, something the Visigoths must have had a hand in! We had a fair lunch of fish cakes for Bob and shrimp for Jerry at the Casa Do Leao right in the castle, a wonderful setting on the deck overlooking Lisbon, for a mere $60.

Climbing the ramparts of the castle was great fun, and leaving St Jorge, we made our way down through the Alfama, where the streets are so narrow, and the buildings are so old, very quaint. However, it didn't look like a place we'd like to be at night. Back at the hotel, Bob started training Jerry to take short afternoon naps, quite a treat! Portuguese dine late, so at 9:30pm, we decided to head out for dinner, and found our way via a map to Xele Banana, where there were only about six diners, and we had to ring the doorbell to get in. Strange. However, the food was quite good, and Jerry's brill over leeks with a cheese sauce was terrific, and his cream pie with raspberries equally great. Bob had duck, which was so-so, he said.

Wandering in the Bairro Alto, we encountered throngs of young people just hanging out around the many bars in the narrow streets. Still no luck finding an in-progress fado, we made our way back to the hotel and had a port in the lobby before hitting the sack about 2:00am.

Lisbon, May 14th, weather varied:

Breakfast at the hotel is only served until 9:30am, and today we made it up before noon so we could eat our paid-for breakfast, which was a typical hotel continental buffet in the basement. So, well enough nourished, we headed for the train station, and found it simple enough to locate the train to Sintra. It was only $1 roundtrip and runs frequently.

Sintra is a small village in the low hills, about 40 minutes by train, with a lot of greenery, trees, and lush landscape. It is so different than the countryside nearby that it looks great. But, it is very touristy, and we merged with the crowds going to see the National Palace, with its tilework in most every room, and most fascinating kitchen chimneys that are immense. We had enough of the crowds, so train'd back to Lisbon and took a taxi to Jeronimos Monastery. Unfortunately, it was closed due to some TV production. After strolling around the waterfront nearby for a while, we wanted to take one of the new streetcars back to Comercio, and waited what seemed forever. But, it was an interesting new streetcar.

Pap D'Acorde was closed, so we had dinner almost next door at Massima Culpa, a great Italian meal for esc 9900 (about $70), and worth it! We were about the only people there at first, but it filled up by the time we left. Except, they left the tables on either side of us empty, wonder why? Waiters were friendly, and gave us an after dinner liqueur. We tried to locate a couple of the listed gay bars, but they are not easy to find. When we finally located Trumps, they were doing some "improvements" for a strip tease party, and we were not invited!

Lisbon, May 15th, weather spritzy then sunny:

Same ol' breakfast, but we sneaked some fruit and cheese back to the room for later. Stopped at Iberia Airlines to confirm our Ibiza flight, and found out they won't confirm a connection unless there is more than an hour between flights. So, we'll wing it, so to speak, in Valencia.

Took the Elevador St Justa up to the shopping area, had a coke in a small plaza, and walked to the Sodres train station. Caught the nifty train to Estoril, a very pleasant seaside town. Had lunch at a beach cafe, where it's obvious that it's not high season, even though the weather was very nice. Strolled the flower gardens, and poked our noses into the plush Hotel Palaix, that has a beautiful Four Seasons restaurant. Caught the train back to Lisbon and made the long walk back to our hotel, and were followed by a cute guy, but did we talk to him? No, and what's wrong with us? For dinner, we went to Pap D'Acorde which seems to have some gay employees. Food was OK, decor really neat, pricey, about $70. Stopped by for a port at the Port Institute, where we had 250 ports to choose from in a comfortable den setting. We didn't try them all!

Lisbon to Cabanas, May 16th, weather clearing:

Checked out of the Botanico and taxi'd to the Ritz Hotel where we picked up our Avis rental car. The nice girl at the desk said she had a surprise for us: a Spanish car! That saved us about $500 for the drop off charge, and we were tickled. It was an Opel v16, an OK car with air conditioning and radio.

We were worried about driving in Lisbon, but easily exited over the Golden-Gate-look-alike bridge. We had heard about the bad drivers in Portugal, and it's certainly true! They're downright dangerous, passing whenever they want, on hills and curves, expecting you to make way for them. The roads were good and we made it to the Algarve at 120 km/hr (74 mph) in a little over three hours, finding the Golden Cabanas timeshare pretty easily.

The timeshare was quite new, cheaply done, but good enough for a few days. The "typical fishing village" of Cabanas (pronounced Cabanish) is mostly restaurants and cafes along the street on the water. All the menus looked the same, featuring of course, fish. We chose to eat off on a side street at a little place that had a courtyard, and we had tuna and swordfish. Our waiter was fun and presented a "small" check.

It appears that this area is a destination for German tourists, since all the signs were in Portugese, English, and German. And, we heard a lot of German spoken around us. We didn't think we'd like to be here in August when the tourists were fighting each other for space, especially with the streets being so narrow you wouldn't want to be on them with a lot of cars.

They sell Ola ice cream bars everywhere and we had one and some coffee before retiring to our upstairs bedroom.

Cabanas, May 17th, weather fine:

With our handy provisions from the Super Mercado, we had breakfast in a leisurely style. Glad we had brought some Peets coffee so we'd have good coffee. Jerry got a little sun, and then we had lunch down the street at a little German cafe, where Bob had sardines. They're bigger than what you'd think, and are somewhat of a challenge with all their bones.

We thought roaming the countryside would be fun, and found the Roman ruins in Milreu, an interesting site of the ruins of a Roman villa. Some of the tilework is still in good shape. Looking for a restaurant (seems we're always doing that!), we located restaurant row in Tavira along the waterfront, and had bass and swordfish which was quite good. Before settling in for an evening of reading and relaxing, we had some of the port we'd found in a little village for $6. Good stuff!

Sagres, May 18th, weather gorgeous:

Coffee and toast, made in an old fashioned flip-side toaster, started off our day, and we headed West to see Europe's Lands End to see if it was anything like ours! A long two hour drive amid Portuguese' worst along the Southern coast of Portugal took us through many small towns, and finally to Cape St. Vincent with its great lighthouse perched on the rugged cliffs 250 feet above the sea. Very dramatic, it was, and exciting to see the places the seafarers of history launched on their quest West. It sure looks like the world is flat from there!

Nearby at Sagres, we lunched at a grill overlooking the harbor with Bob having mackerel, being the experimental eater he is, and Jerry had monk fish on a skewer preceded by an octopus salad (that's not experimental?) Food was good and we were glad to be eating in the shade since the sun was blistering along the rail of the restaurant's tiled terrace.

We stopped by the Posada, the government run hotel, which was perched in a great spot near the cliffs. It was nicely appointed and very quiet. Then on to the Forteleza, a large fortress on a point of land that became the famous navigators school, with its huge compass on the ground. It was quite a long walk around the cliffs where local men were fishing from the top of the cliffs, having to run their line down probably a 150 feet or more. A couple of funals, kind of like blowholes caught our attention, not because of their name, of course! They appear to be holes through the lava-like rock that reach a long way down to the water and are supposed to make strange sounds.

Travelin' on, we stopped by the famous Praia de Rocha beach where the interesting rock formations line the beach. It's quite a nice beach with creamy sand, and was the first place we saw the boards trails they provide, like little sidewalks in a grid pattern on the beach. Handy for walking in shoes on the beach.

The little town reminded us of Santa Monica in a way, a very commercialized beach town with hotels, restaurants and the beach the important things.

Practicing our Portuguese driving, we made it back to Cabanas in a couple of hours. It was somewhat tiring, a longer trip actually than driving down from Lisbon. Looking for a nice place to dine, we ate in Cabanas upstairs at Mono Ze, where a very nice lady cook was sincere about us having a good meal and enjoying ourselves. She spoke quite good English, and seemed to be a very hard worker, concerned that in the busy season, she doesn't have time to make people feel that they can take the time to enjoy their meal. She fixed fresh strawberries for our dessert. The menu selection we found almost everywhere was very much the same: tunny, sardines, sole, and other local fish, which was always served with a couple of boiled patatas, two tomato wedges, some shredded carrots, and maybe a spare lettuce leaf. Sometimes the fish were whole, sometimes steaks, and sometimes fileted, you would never know 'til it came.

Monte Gordo, May 19th, weather very warm:

Ate up the last of our loaf of bread with great SF coffee, and loafed around the condo for a while. They had removed the dishwasher, which didn't work anyway, but our dishes were few. With the timeshare not being right on the ocean beach, but on a lagoon where you would have to take a boat to the beach, and Cabanas being so small, we decided to head for funner places for the day. A short distance East was the other end of the Algarve, and our adventurous spirit led us along the coast to the border with Spain where we found the cute little town of Monte Gordo. It had an immense beach with quite good sand, and zillions of places where they set up chaises and umbrellas and lots of posts that they wrap canvas around to protect you from the wind. Each area was colored differently, presumably territories controlled by some gorgeous Portugese beach-guys! The crowds hadn't arrived yet, so we only saw one guy who had his little boy au-naturel helping his dad paint, very cute.

Lunch at a cafe on the beach was great, and served by Bob's favorite waiter for whom he was ready to renounce his USA citizenship! Bob had wonderful tunny, and Jerry had cockles, which turn out to be regular old clams, but were good.

We had to get our toes in the sand for a while before heading back, but before we did, we stopped by to see a recommended hotel which was the fascinating cave-live Hotel Alcazar. The interior looked like it had been carved out of rock and painted white, very charming.

Dinner was at the roasted pig place, where Jerry wanted to go. It was OK, steak with ham and cheese with sauce for Jerry, and salmon for Bob. We sat inside by ourselves in the air conditioning, while the other six tables outside were full. It lacked a little charm and atmosphere, and the waiters were a little short, probably the owners not liking to serve these crazy tourists, interested only in the escudos they were collecting.

The weather was quite warm and we strolled through Cabanas a while, buying our favorite Ola bars. Back at the timeshare, we finished the port and got physqed up for leaving Portugal. Jerry slept on the downstairs sofabed to avoid his very squeaky bed upstairs.

Cabanas to Seville, May 20th, weather hot:

Thought we'd have that English breakfast we saw on the outside menu at one of the little cafes along seaside street in Cabanas. However, they weren't open, and so we wandered along the little side streets, finding the "produce market"! We hadn't realized that in the early morning they wheel their carts in and set up shop at a few places and sell great looking produce, except for the oranges, says Bob. We bought some strawberries and bananas, and with the croissants we found, we made our own breakfast back at the timeshare.

Checking out of the timeshare at 10:00am, we drove on toward Spain. We thought we'd have to cross some sort of border checkpoint and surrender part two of the form we filled out when we arrived. But, we zipped right across the bridge into Spain with nary a thought of slowing down, much less stopping for some interrogation. There wasn't even anyone manning the booths at the border. I guess this isn't a big smuggling route! The road was pretty good for a while and then turned into a super hiway right into Seville, about 100km from Cabanas. We didn't have a detailed map of Seville, and made a wrong turn as we were arriving, but soon got straightened out and ended up right on the street where our hotel was! Luckily, we found a parking spot, and checked into the Hotel Bequer, a grand old place, and our room was fine for the one night we'd be there.

Grabbing an expensive lunch across the street, we headed out to see the Cathedral, only a few blocks away. They say it's the largest gothic cathedral in Europe, and it looks it. The tower beckoned us, so up the 39 ramps inside the square tower we went, and had a great view of Seville from the top. Jerry spotted the Hotel Dona Maria where he and Les had stayed a few years earlier. Then we strolled around the Alcazar area and had a $2.40 Snapple in a little plaza; it was quite warm. The shops were coming alive after siesta, showing off all their colorfully designed pottery and goods.

Back at the hotel, Bob napped and Jerry read Jeeves in the comfortable hotel lounge. For dinner, we tried to locate a couple of the restaurants from the Fodor's book, but either couldn't find them or they were booked up. So, we finally located the Corral del Agua, a very attractive courtyard restaurant, with a canopy of grape vines overhead. They had a table for us, but at 9:30pm, there were only a few diners, and they were turning away people because the other tables were reserved. The other diners were arriving at 10:30pm or later. Amazing! Jerry had delicious Dorado, and Bob had chicken. One of the young waiters kept smiling at Bob as he went by us to the kitchen, and Bob wanted to talk him into moving to San Diego! The waiter seemed to want to practice his English on us, and we had a fun time with him. He even served us a second glass of the complimentary after-dinner cherry liqueur.

Seville to Ibiza, May 21st, weather warm then cool evening:

Not knowing whether getting to the airport, turning in the car, and so on would be a hassle, we got up at 7:00am and had the hotel breakfast at 8:00am. It was quite nice, and they have an interesting way of showing what juice was in a pitcher by placing a piece of the fruit between layers of saranwrap over the top of the pitcher. We checked out of the hotel at 9:00am, and shuffled our bags through the tiny corridor to the hotel garage. The cute attendant (seems like all the men are getting cuter!) guided us out of the very cramped garage, and we were on our way to the airport. When we filled up with petrol, we found that it costs about $35 or more to fill a small tank, gas being 115 pesetas per liter, about $3.60 a gallon. Getting to the airport was a breeze, only 7 miles, and we left the Avis car in a numbered spot and went to check it in. The Avis lady said her computer wasn't working, and asked us to check it in when we got to Valencia! Amazing, she didn't even see the car and didn't seem to care. All this took very little time, and we were two hours early; to think, we could have slept in.

We were in business class, so were able to relax by ourselves in the upper VIP lounge until our 40 minute flight on Iberia to Valencia. In Valencia, we found ourselves in the secure area, and in order to get to Avis, we had to talk the security guys into letting us out. After much discussion, they let us. So, we got our Avis car taken care of; the clerk didn't seem to think it was unusual to leave a car in one town and "turn it in" in another town! Then we wanted to catch the Aviaca flight at 2:50pm instead of waiting six hours for our confirmed flight, so we zipped over to the counter, and the nice lady was able to get us on the nearly empty flight to Ibiza. We were very glad to be able to arrive in Ibiza while it was still daylight.

Getting our Hertz rental car was a snap, and we were off on the hunt to find our timeshare at Torrent Bay. The directions were pretty clear, and we found Ses Fontanelles quite easily, making it round the round-abouts pretty well. The two bedroom timeshare was not bad, looking quite new, although we didn't have a sea view. Jerry had planned with Leigh to make a phone call at 10:00am Pacific time, and after much difficulty with the phone, had the operator make the connection. It turned out that the phone was on a rotary system, so MCI didn't hear any tones! Bob was able to get hold of Bob Metzger also. Modern electronics, quite the thing!

After doing a little hand laundry (when you're gone three weeks, things like that become a necessary chore), we found that one of the recommended restaurants was right down the beach, only about half a block away. It was called C'an Pujol, and although a very simple place, with clear plastic walls, we had an outstanding pan of mixed fish, especially the whole fish in the center of the pan. We asked what it was, and thought they said Mesugo. There were four kinds of fish with browned potatoes, peppers, tomatoes, and garlic. It was delicious, and $48. After dinner, we picked up a few things at the super market, and settled into what was going to be our home for the next six days.

Ibiza, May 22nd, weather sunny but very cool evening:

This was the day to find out what Ibiza is all about. We fixed our usual condo-breakfast, and drove into Eivissa. Using our guide book, we toured old town, through the marina area, and then up into Dalt Vila. There were great views of the town from the ramparts of the old fortress. Tiny streets led us around corners to surprises of little plazas, cafes and shops. Many of the shops are very classy looking, evidence of the heavy tourist trade here. Back down in lower town, we had lunch at the charming old Cafe Balear. Jerry had a good salad and chicken, and Bob had red mullet.

Headed back to the condo to relax, did a little more laundry, defrosted the dinky fridge, and Jerry went sunbathing at 5pm. The sun doesn't go down until after 9pm. We'd already decided we were going to have dinner at S'Oficina, so we zipped back the 12km into town and enjoyed a nice meal at the very comfortable restaurant. Half of the diners were gay.

We had spotted Besugo on the Spanish menu (we had thought it was called Mesugo), and were startled to find it translated on the English menu to Sea Bream!! That was the awful fish Les and Jerry had on their Spanish trip. Guess it's in the fixin! Jerry had it anyway, and it was good, but not as good as we'd had it the night previous. Bob had little lamb chops which he didn't complain about, but was still hungry after dinner. Wandering around after dinner, we located the gay spots in Sa Penya. It's like one long outdoor bar, running down this narrow little white washed street, each bar about 20 feet from its neighbor. It was very appealing, especially with a number of cute guys sitting at the outdoor tables at each bar. We stopped at the Galeria for a snort. We've started being able to pick out the German boys by their look.

Ibiza, May 23rd, weather sunny then very cool:

In-condo breakfast got us off to a start on our exploration of the SW coast of the island. Winding, mostly good roads along the water gave us glimpses of little bays with sparkling light blue water. We explored several of them and stopped for lunch at the very windy Cale Vadella bay. It's a pretty beach, with shops and restaurants in the cove. Continuing on, we stopped to see the beautiful Hotel Village, a gorgeous, expensive looking hotel on the hill overlooking the water. It's not close to the beach but had an attractive swimming pool setting and sumptuous dining room. Then it was a quick trip back to the condo for a nap and a sunbath.

We called Dallas, and he wanted to meet at West Side for dinner. Our commitment was a little general, saying we see him later, for he seemed to be in his cups already at 6pm. Got all prettied up (not for Dallas!), and drove into Eivissa, bought some cards and maps, and made our way into Sa Penya. Foc I Fum had already been selected as our dining spot, and we found it to be a wonderful little restaurant right in the middle of all the bars on Calle Virgen.

A note about street names, particularly: The names are being changed back to their Catalan names, and it makes it difficult for tourists, since many maps don't correspond. Catalan is the big story, and there was even one graffiti that read, "You are not in Spain, you are in Catalonia!" And, people paint corrections to many of the road signs, for example, they correct San Jose to Sant Josep.

Our dinner at Foc I Fum was terrific, the first gourmet meal that was more like we're accustomed to. The bread was real French bread, not the hard dry buns we'd been getting. Bob had chicken livers over green salad, and salmon lasagna, both excellent. Jerry had house pate, which was just ok, but the duck breast l'orange was great. We had wanted to have the tomatoes stuffed with fresh goat cheese for the appetizer, but they said that the goat cheese hadn't arrived yet; the delivery person had called and said it would be soon, but not in time for early diners like us! That's fresh! Dessert was praline ice cream which Bob creamed over. And, we were treated to another after-dinner liqueur, this time a hazelnut flavored sip.

As we were leaving our dinner spot, we encountered Dallas on the narrow street. He insisted on buying us a drink at Carpachi, the German bar right across from Foc I Fum. Well, he was so plastered he couldn't find his money, and Bob bought our beers. We made a hasty retreat, and said we'd call him another day. Yeah, sure!

Ibiza, May 24th, weather warm and hazy:

After our coffee and toast at the condo, we eventually made our way to town for lunch, hoping that El Olivo would be open. They are on the plaza just inside the drawbridge gate, and looked like it would be a nice place. However, they were closed, and with no signs, we couldn't tell whether they would even be open for dinner. So, we decided to have lunch at Mir Y Sol, but found ourselves next door, and had a tuna salad and a bocadillo.

Jerry dropped Bob at the condo, and made for the nude beach! It's near the airport, and parking is very cramped. It must be impossible during the season. It's called Cavallet, and you start off at the straight beach and walk south about a mile to find more interesting scenery. Almost giving up, suddenly a rainbow flag could be seen perched on top of the Chiringay beach cafe, and the beautiful vista of 150 guys in and out of swim suits appeared. The sun was very warm, and the crowd varied, mostly young to middle aged sun worshipers. SPF23 helped Jerry keep his tan line intact and avoid burning the keester. The sand is OK, but has a lot of natural debris. The water was very cold, and not many people were getting wet. It was fun to see one time, but it's the kind of place where you bring everything and plan to be there the whole day or afternoon.

Did our naps and then aimed the old rental car towards dinner. To our delight, we found that El Olivo was open, and a few tables of diners were outside. We sat just inside the front door on a raised area in a kind of banquette, with pillows in our own little nook. It was very cozy, with candlelight everywhere. The staff were all pleasant, young men, and appeared to primarily speak French. Jerry had goat cheese and carmelized endive salad, and Bob had mixed meat and grapes to start. Jerry's Golden Mullet, translated as Dorado, served whole was very good and Bob had monkfish he liked. Excellent meal, and fun, busy waiters. Post-dinner was a stroll along the fortress wall, finally locating Angelo and Incognito bars, sitting up, very visible from the ramp into Dalt Vila. It was too early for them to be busy, so we headed on. You have to really be a night owl to be in the throng of the party on Ibiza!

Ibiza, May 25th, weather overcast:

Waking to cloudy skies, an "oh, no" formed on our lips. We had planned to ferry over to Formentara today, and it didn't look like a ferry day. So scuttling the plans, we eased into the day, with Bob resting his jumpy stomach, and Jerry shopping in Eivissa getting the required t-shirt, and some very reasonable Clarins. Drove through the Figuerettes to see if accommodations there might be better located. Not a bad spot, fairly close to a good beach and walking distance to Dalt Vila.

We hopped in the car and zipped over to nearby St Antoni and enjoyed a beer on the promenade watching the dancing fountain. Then we headed into town, all dressed up for dinner at El Corsair. Great view in a pleasant but uninspired dining room with the same German couple who was at Foc I Fum, and we were the only diners! Dinner was OK, but not up to our usual expectations. C.Virgen was on our walking itinerary on the way back home.

Ibiza and Formentara, May 26th, weather sunny:

The weather looked better, so we headed over to catch the ferry to the island of Formentara. However, they had changed the schedule since we had last looked, and we had some extra time to enjoy an orange juice at Mar Y Sol before launch time. The jet boat cost us $24 for the trip, and took about 40 minutes to ply the waves over to the island close enough to see from Ibiza. From the harbor, we started hoofing it over to the beach, but it seemed like it might be too far, so we rented bicycles for $4. It was great, peddling down the bike-way, with lots of motor scooters running around, too. The bikes were actually better since you can talk to each other whilst wheeling along.

Our objective was the Illetes beach, famous for its nudes. We stopped along the way at a couple of beaches, and whenever we saw a beach cafe, reviewed the options for lunch. Even though nudity is commonplace on the island, many people don't comply with what we thought should be the law: total strip! Less than half the sun bathers were au naturel. The water is a beautiful blue, and lots of expensive boats were around.

We headed back to an interesting looking beach cafe, where we had lunch served by the most gorgeous waiter. Roast chicken was about $7, and we enjoyed the setting on the sand. We biked around a little more and then headed across the salt ponds, guarded by the plastic pink flamingos, back to the ferry, catching the 4:30pm jet boat. This was our last night on Ibiza, so we returned to our favorite Foc I Fum, where we enjoyed dinner in the little alcove inside. Tonight the goat cheese had arrived in time, and Bob had the tomato stuffed with it, very good. Jerry had the chicken liver over green salad, very nice. Then Bob had the duck, and Jerry had lamb stew, very tasty. Dessert was a repeat of the praline glace. A last stroll through the Virgen with all the stares from the guys sitting outside the bars made us wish this weren't our last night!

Ibiza to Barcelona, May 27th, weather sunny and very warm:

Checkout time at the timeshare was 10am, so we were up early for breakfast and packing. We're getting good at this! There was lots of time before our flight, and we didn't have to get the rental car back until 7pm, so we ambled on up the island in our car to St Agnes and got semi-lost on our way to see ceramics. But, the countryside is very scenic, and we encountered a herd of sheep coming our way on a little road, led by a brown goat and a brown lady. How picturesque! Eased up to St Eularia and found out from the tourist information lady where the Alea Bonsai was. It's a timeshare also, and turned out to be very charming, an older white stucco set of small buildings, not far from a beach in a residential neighborhood.

We returned to Eivissa where we had lunch at a courtyard restaurant we'd seen before, the Paradilla(?). Menu del dia was only 1300 pesetas, and was a good mixed grill with buffet salad. On our way to the airport, we had time to stop by Cavallet so Bob could say he'd seen the nude beach. Car rental return was the easiest we'd ever seen, and so we thought we had this jaunt to Barcelona bagged. But, it's never that easy. The flight was two hours late, and with the announcements in Spanish, we didn't quite know what was going on part of the time. Finally, on a full Aviaca flight, we had a short hop to Barcelona.

The Barcelona airport is beautiful, with marble floors, and an open spacious look. A cab was happy to take us the 10km to the Hotel Granvia for 2700 pesetas. We didn't arrive until 9:30pm, but they were ready for us. Searching for a place to eat, we settled on Chi Chi's where we had a mediocre production line Mexican meal.

Barcelona, May 28th, weather warm and breezy:

The Hotel Granvia is in a great location, right downtown, close to most everything. It's an old place, with great French furniture, and spacious rooms and bathrooms. We didn't seem to be able to get the air conditioner to work, and it was too noisy to leave the windows open, so we slept with them closed. The room became very hot making it difficult to sleep, but when you're tired, somehow those eyelids just close.

Places to go, things to see, so we were up at 8:30 and had breakfast in the hotel salon. The typical juice, coffee, and croissant were fairly satisfying, and we were soon out trudging the Gaudi trail. A map we had, suggested a walking tour of the area near our hotel that had many Gaudi buildings, and we added a little side junket to the Sagrada Familia cathedral. It's quite an odd structure of eight towers, and we were quite surprised to find that the inside wasn't complete. The whole thing looks as if it's only a third finished, and they've only been working on it for a hundred years! We climbed some winding steps halfway up the towers and enjoyed some interesting views of the construction. Continued on our walking tour to Placa Joan Carles, and stopped for lunch at a nice sidewalk cafe. Jerry had salmon gratin, and Bob had something or other, and we enjoyed some local rose wine.

Back at the hotel, we enjoyed our siesta while Jerry nursed his Formentara blisters. About 7pm, we headed out to find a shop called Sextienda, where we could get a gay map of Barcelona. But, when they bring down those metal covers over the stores while they're closed, you can't see a store name or number or anything, so we couldn't find the shop. However, we did find Los Caracoles, where Jerry had more snails than he really wanted, pretty earthy, too, and moved quickly on to paella, which he didn't care for too much either. Bob had pre-mixed gazpacho, and a tiny bit of monk fish. The place has great atmosphere, having been there since 1835, but we didn't care for the food. Upon leaving, we saw the spits of chicken roasting outside, and they looked like what we should have had for dinner! Out on La Rambla, we strolled down to the Columbus monument, and back to the hotel for some deserved rest. The air conditioner worked, so we were a little more comfortable.

Barcelona and Sitges, May 29th, weather pleasant:

We tried to find breakfast outside the hotel, and only found a fast food croissant place, where a little twit thought we were German, and the service was incredibly slow. And, Bob didn't seem to be able to get an American sized cup of coffee. They insist on serving espresso no matter what you order; that's coffee to them it appears. We decided to take a trip to Sitges, and caught the metro to the Sants train station, where we spent several confused minutes, trying to figure out what train to catch. Finally, we just headed for the ticket counter and the clerk said in very good English that we could catch the train on track 5 every 20 minutes. It was a smooth, electric train that took about 35 minutes to port us to Sitges, which Jerry had read a good deal about, and was looking forward to.

Sitges is no great looking place when you get off the train; but what city is? We had an idea of where the tourist information office was, and luckily found it right away. Armed with our new map, we waltzed off down the narrow streets, trying to find the Dream Boys shop. It's another one we couldn't find, but think it's now called Dive, which looks like a very gay sports shop. As we headed down closer toward the beach, the shops and town looked a little better, and we found Elsa's, purported to be a good place for breakfast. Bob was afraid we were going to eat lunch there!

The beachfront has a very nice malacon and beach chairs for days. Our instructions said that the gay area is near the red cross station, and sure enough, there they were, all 200 of them. Can you imagine how it is in August, when there are about 100,000 more? Jerry wants to go back and see! Across the malacon, we spotted the Mare Nostrum, a restaurant on our list. So, we headed over to see, and it turned out to be a lovely place for our midday meal. We sat outside under the canopy, and Bob had salmon and Jerry had dorado over potatoes with tomatoes and onion, very good. The wine was excellent, a local white from Can Feixes, about $8.

We browsed around the town, and located the Hotel Romantic, which looked very nice. We also found El Trull, and the Flambouyant, both of which looked like very nice places for dinner. Plan on eating late, though, since they don't open until 10:30pm. Best looking though, was El Xalet, in a beautiful courtyard, off of an old-world looking hotel. Browsing around, Jerry bought a small white cream pitcher, and we walked back down to the beach for a last look at the interesting buildings overlooking the landscaped malacon, a very pleasant beach scene.

We caught the 16:06 train, which was a very modern, two decker, that played classical music and displayed time and destination on a panel at the end of the car. Jerry shopped at El Corte Ingles, a department store, buying a scarf for his mom, and another cream pitcher; just can't have too many of those!

Uptown was our destination for dinner at a Gourmet magazine recommended restaurant, L'Olive. We walked and walked and walked, finding out that each block was only 10 numbers instead of 100! But, it was worth it: Bob had vichyssoise, Jerry had onion soup, Bob had duck with strawberry sauce, and Jerry had veal steak with carmelized onions. We found a Can Feixes red wine which was almost as good as their white. On the way back to the hotel, we stopped at Punk, a gay bar for a brandy, $3.60. It could be a good place to hang out if enough people were there. It's good sized, and with only about 15 people there, we didn't want to hang around. We discovered it had started raining, so we taxied back to the hotel.

Barcelona, May 30th, weather rainy then sunny:

Peeking out our window before breakfast, we saw rain, and hoped it would let up while we had the familiar continental fare. Hoping to see some more of the Gothic Quarter, we rambled down La Rambla to the old cathedral. It's very impressive, and very old. We stopped by the Bocqueria food market, which is incredible, with dozens of every kind of stall, produce beautifully displayed, meat, fish of every kind. Stopping by the Opera House, we were hoping for a tour, but everyone said "no". We headed for the funicular, but everything was closed, apparently for election day, which of course, we didn't know it was. Riding the metro back to the Gothic Quarter, we actually found Sextienda this time, with a rainbow flag out front. It was like walking into Le Salon, and we got our free gay map of Barcelona finally, on our last day! Nearby, was Agut L'Avinyo, a wonderful restaurant, where we had a great, expensive lunch. Bob had goose and Jerry had rabbit, with a Crema Catalan, kind of a soupy zabaglione with a browned sugar top, great! We had a nice Boniera wine from Rioja that was quite good. Lunch was a pricey $80. The helpful, cute maitre'd spoke excellent English.

Jerry stopped at the department store, looking for wine, finding that the $11 Gloria Ferrar champagne, sells for $6 in Spain! Explain that, if you can! For 810 pts, he found Leigh's Dixan detergent. After relaxing for a while, we set out at 10pm for a snack, and to try to find a couple of bars uptown. Metro'd to Fontana, but couldn't find Paris-Dakar, and thought Cafe de Calle on Vic wasn't one, but later found it was. Metro closed up on us, so we walked amongst the spitting rain back to the hotel for our last night's sleep in Barcelona.

European Exodus, May 31st, weather great, of course:

Trusting that the batteries in the dinky alarm clock wouldn't fail us, we planned to have it alert us about 7:30am that it was time to get a move on. However, Jerry woke up early and showered and got to packing about 7:15. Anxious to get home? We breakfast'd with the slow waitress in the hotel Salon, and made final packs and tucks, and were ready to go about 9:00. Spending the last few pesetas was a shell game, having to leave the maid some and paying the 250 a day for our room safe, and saving enough to pay the taxi, but Jerry managed to get rid of all his, and Bob ended up with about $10 worth. Our taxi was to arrive at 9:45, but Jerry had the bright idea of shopping at the tax free shops at the airport so we headed off early.

Getting taxis in Barcelona is no problem. Just put a look on your face like you need one, and there one is! We didn't get a MBZ taxi like Jerry was hoping for, but the cute driver made up for it. The ride was about 2800, or $24. But, it's worth it if you are carrying Jerry's suitcase! At the airport the check-in was ultra easy, but with a lot of security questions, which actually we appreciated. The airport is quite something, with its marble floors and modern design, obviously built for the Olympics. Jerry went shopping and bought a bottle of Drambuie even though he had told himself earlier he wasn't going to schlep some awkward bottle home. But, it was just too cheap! $25 for a liter. Bob resisted and just wanted to take his shoes off again.

The flight from Barcelona left pretty much on time, about noon, and made the 334 miles to Madrid quite quickly. There we had to wait on the ground for an hour while they prepared the plane for the long haul over the Atlantic. Then, they almost literally filled the plane up with people, to our disappointment, since it had been nearly empty from Barcelona. However, the international flights are pretty well attended and it was a comfortable nine hours to Atlanta on the L-1011, covering the 4334 miles easily.

In Atlanta, immigration and customs was very easy, and after claiming our bags, zipping through the "nothing to declare" line where it didn't look like they were examining any bags, we rechecked them and went to the Crown Room to relax for our supposed two hour layover. However, getting through customs and so-on used up about an hour, so we only had about 30 minutes or so to relax in the lounge.

And on to our respective destinations. With a manly handshake and a few kind words, Bob headed for his plane to San Diego and Jerry lugged himself over to another concourse to find out his plane had been delayed for an hour. But we were soon off Westerly across a familiar landscape, although getting up and out of Atlanta was one of the bumpiest rides we'd had. Bob's plane was a little faster than Jerry's and he arrived at 9:00pm, with Bob Metzger waiting for him, a welcome sight, getting him home in short order. The headwinds on Jerry's flight were more than planned, so his flight was 40 minutes late, arriving at 10:00pm, only 19 hours after leaving Barcelona. That's a long trip!

But it was a good trip!