Little Taste of Ibiza

A quick couple of days in Ibiza made for a seriously therapeutic treat. We did manage one rather short evening of partying but the main focus was food and a bit of sun-cramming before enduring a long British winter - and having endured a long British summer.

The highlight was a spa day at the five star Hotel Hacienda. For €70 we got to experience the incredible view, stunning surroundings and luxury of the venue, along with a full body massage delivered through various kinds of water jets in a series of pools, AND a three course lunch.

The place is normally pretty crowded by its supermodel and DJ clientele, but by the beginning of October there was hardly anyone else there, which made it feel even more exclusive.

We felt very pleased with ourselves, admiring the view in the hot sun (imagining the cold in England) and sipping cava while we waited for our spa slot.

Next, we were admiring the view again, but this time from bubbling pools of salt water, teetering on the edge of the cliff.

After that we enjoyed the view from our restaurant table, right at the highest point of the hotel and indeed the mountain. The starter was a tapas plate of broad bean and mint salad, tempura prawns and sweet chili sauce (yawn), ricotta toasts, rabbit samosas and chilled asparagus cream. All very nicely done.

The main course was grilled salmon steak, octopus stew, steak and a lamb chop, all served on solid slabs of salt – ideal for a sodium chloride addict such as myself. The meat was seared to crispiness on the outside, pink within. They were accompanied by a buckwheat tabouleh.

Steak and lamb chop was served on a block of salt

I thought I didn’t have room for dessert or care much about it, but the beautifully presented platter of mini-puds was particularly good, and rather less of them than promised were donated to a friend. I forgot to photograph them in my haste to taste. They included a little ice-cream cone filled with chocolate, a rich vanilla ice-cream and a lemon tartlet.

We didn’t want our special day to end just yet, so after lunch we slurped on the best mojitos ever in the world ever while watching the sunset. The designated driver had the best ever virgin mojitos in the world ever, which were literally – and I mean literally – as good as the boozy ones.

We went home for a nap followed by cava and a giant paella at the unassuming Villa Manchega. Such a waste – it was a really good one but the three-person pan-full was enough to feed 12. We didn’t have a fridge at the hotel so we had to leave the copious leftovers at the restaurant.

Other memorable meals included our first meal of the holiday when we had seafood and the saltiest, most garlicky garlic purée/mayo imaginable (that is a good thing, by the way) at the Restaurante El Carmen; a seafood selection with chips and rosé from the Cala Gracio beach café (owned and run for 40 years by a charming native Ibizan guy who’s married to a lady from Burnley and called us 'lasses'); and posh nosh at Villa Mercedes.

Squid and grilled red mullet at Resaurante El Carmen (above); 

Last meal of grilled sardines (below).

Fishing Villages; Friction in Freetown - 1st September 2007

Fishing Villages

It was the first day of my last weekend in Sierra Leone, and we headed off down the coast again, but this time taking the much longer route on a new road. We were aiming for Kent beach, with the idea of perhaps getting a canoe over to the Banana Islands.

We stopped off at Mama Beach, and experienced the typical African fishing village in full swing. Everyone was on the beach, hauling huge baskets of wonderful-looking sardines out of the boats, through the surf to wash them, and up onto the beach to sell. Further along the beach, a team of people were pulling in nets with a varied catch of fish and crustaceans. Mama Beach has the softest, finest sand I have ever felt between my toes.



We wanted to buy some sardines for lunch, and I was up for building a fire to cook them - we still had Mabinti’s limes in the car. But in the end we decided to keep going to Kent, and see if we could find a restaurant selling sardines and Star.

Both the restaurants at Kent were closed, due to it being low season, but a deal was made with some local lads - all fishermen – and they went off to get the necessaries to provide us with a meal. Sardines were not available. An hour (and a Star) later, we were given our plates of ultra-fresh white fish (Groupa? Forgot to ask because I was so keen to tuck in), which had been barbecued near us on the beach, and was served with tomatoey rice and a kind of freshly cooked onion and tomato chutney sauce. We drank cold Stars and sat on the rocks to eat our scrumptious lunch.



The sea was looking a bit rough for a boat trip, so we postponed the idea of the Banana Islands until the next day.



We couldn't continue round on the new road, because we got to the end of the road. Literally. So we turned back and went the long, smooth way back to Freetown.



Friction in Freetown

On the way back, we got caught up in some election aggravation in the centre of Freetown. The streets were chokka, and suddenly everyone started walking in the same direction. Stuck in the traffic, we wound up our windows, and locked the doors, while soldiers and police (men and women) started to dash up the street wielding guns and shouting. Trucks of riot police arrived. You just can’t tell what will happen in that kind of situation, and I felt nervous seeing guns waved around. It got slightly scary when we finally got out of the gridlock, because my dad got lost, ending up in a different part of town than he expected. After ducking down alleys and roads in a labyrinth of one-way streets, we finally found ourselves on the road to Lumley and safety.

Back at the hotel, we went to the poolside bar again. The laughing barman wasn’t there, but his colleague was a nice bloke anyway, and I got another offer of a Sierra Leone mix CD. We had a quiet supper at the hotel, of bonita fish, chips, salad and Star.