I’m quickly learning that life is the one in control and by surrendering to that, then things become very interesting.
I packed my bags and found one of the best hotels Ibiza can offer. I’ve learned that Ibiza has many different identities. On the northern section of the island, there is a large community of European hippies living in the woods and along the coastal caves, while in the southern sections of the island, agro-tourist, farms that cater to tourists run by ‘reformed’ hippies. In between Tipi Fort are the cities, clubs and belligerent sun burnt Brits.
I left my hotel and I decided to follow where life was leading me and went to stay on a working farm that I’ve been walking by during my long hikes. It was kind of like a retreat for me. The farm was run by this neurotic Italian woman, who manages the working aspects and only speaks Spanish to me. Anyways, I wake up so very early in the morning, go and work in the fields, collecting vegetables, weeding, feeding the plants compost, clearing out the horse stalls and various other tasks. By 11am, I’m sweating and so hungry, but I still have a few hours to work. However, after work, it’s lunch! Bowls of produce from the garden, plus watermelon and grain dishes, all served in this beautiful villa that overlooks the valley and the sea.
After lunch, I headed back to my casita and took a siesta, then hit the beach for the rest of the day! So many tourists are on the beaches, Brits, French, Germans; a veritable Heinz 57. I people watch mostly, but if I’m in the mood I’ll read or draw. It’s good to be working hard and then playing hard. I think I’ll stay at this working farm for another week, but then head back into town and get another hotel room and begin doing my touristy thing. After all, I am in Ibiza, the party town of the whole world.
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