Did you notice that SportDork.com has a new look?  It's subtle, but it's different.  Note the new "tag line" under the heading, telling you all you need to know about SportDork.com.  Well, maybe not all you need to know.  If it was all you needed to know, then you wouldn't have to read any of the entries, and that's not what I was going for.  Anyway, you're probably wondering, "Why the new look?  I liked the old look.  And why are you spending time screwing around with the format of the website when you should be working on the next magical entry?"  Well, first let me say that I can assure you that the time spent on the new look will in no way compromise or change any of the content on SportDork.com - although I realize that many of you were probably hoping that it would.  And second, I had no choice but to change it.  Earlier this week, I went to the site to make sure it was running properly, as I do on a regular basis.  (I have no job.  This is all I've got.)  When I pulled up the site, this is what greeted me at the top of the page:

Three ads for Crest White Strips?  Is there no escape?  Don't get me wrong - I don't mind a little good old-fashioned capitalism, but this is ridiculous.  My struggles with the White Strips have been well-documented on these pages (see "Bag O' White Strips), and I believe I have paid them the respect that they deserve, but now they come to my website?  They have already beaten me soundly twice (and, by the way, are well on their way to making it three straight), and now they come to SportDork.com to mock me?  When will it stop?  When will I be free from their taunting?  I had to do what any reasonable man would - I took matters into my own hands.  I immediately upgraded my SportDork.com account from a free account with advertisements and agreed to pay $19.99 a month for a super-premium account with no advertisements.  Who's laughing now, White Strips? $240 a year to put an end to their little games.  I think we all know who won that battle.

 
Back to The Ibiza Chronicles!!

After our restful first night's sleep, I went in search of answers to the one question that I could not find an answer to prior to our trip:  Is the water safe to drink in Ibiza?  I searched far and wide on the internet and consulted the Ibiza Travel Guide that I bought on Amazon.com, but I couldn't find any definitive information on whether you can actually drink the water in Ibiza.  I found this very curious.  Was somebody trying to hide something?  I'm sure I don't have to tell you that water-purification is not something to be taken lightly.  In the world of sub-par water purification, one wrong move in the hotel bathroom when brushing your teeth (i.e., reaching for the faucet handle instead of the water bottle to rinse off that tooth brush) can spell intestinal disaster for the rest of the vacation.  Trust me on this one - I've been to China.  Not only does the water quality impact my bathroom routine - more importantly, it can completely alter my alcoholic beverage selection.  Poor water quality?  Say goodbye to mixed drinks for the week, SportDork.  Those melted ice cubes are nothing but trouble.  Poor water quality turns the vacation into a week-long standard wedding reception - beer and wine only.  But unlike the standard wedding reception, in this case a flask is of no assistance.

I looked to the information booklet provided by the hotel in our room, and was pleased to find a section titled, "Water."  Here is what it said:

Come again?  I'm going to need clarification on two terms.  First, I thought that the term "drinkable" implied that I would be pain free after ingesting the water.  Apparently, however, in Ibiza water is still "drinkable" even if it causes "tummy upsets."  Just curious, but at what point does it become "un-drinkable"?  If I die, is it officially undrinkable?  This also brings me to the second term that I could use some clarification on.  When you say "tummy upsets," what are we talking about?  Is that a term of art?  Should I expect some mild indigestion that a couple of Rolaids would take care of, or am I going to be on Immodium Advanced for the next six days?  After having given this statement way too much thought, I have decided that it is actually purposefully ambiguous, and I commend whoever came up with it.  As a law school graduate, I think this is one of the most brilliantly crafted statements I have ever seen.  What it really says is, "Technically, the water in this hotel has been deemed "drinkable" by some government agency, so we can use it in our ice and to wash the lettuce that we put on the buffet, and while there is a chance that it may cause you some intestinal distress, that's your problem, not ours.  Someone deemed it "drinkable", so we're in the clear.  Don't worry - you're probably not going to die.  However, we can tell you right now that if you ingest the water in larger quantities, you're pretty much guaranteed to get the squirts, so you may not want to go there.  We are warning you about that now.  Should you decide to ignore this advice and drink frozen margaritas all night, which results in your spending half your vacation on the toilet, don't come crying to us.  Enjoy your vacation."

The beer and wine at the hotel was excellent.

After analyzing the hotel's position on water, we made our first move:

This is a six-liter bottle of water.  They sell these all over the island, which I believe is excellent supporting evidence for my interpretation of the hotel's water statement.  I placed the tube of aloe vera next to the water to provide you with a reference point so you could appreciate the size of the water bottle.  It was very large.  I have nothing amusing to say about the aloe vera.

Mrs. SportDork and I are big fans of the "fly and flop" vacation, so of course our second move, after stockpiling bottled water in our hotel room, was to head to the beach, which was right across the street from the hotel.  Here's a shot of our hotel:

I was told that "Bellamar" is Spanish for "We make no representations or warranties regarding the quality of our drinking water."

This is the view from our beach chairs:

Those are Mrs. SportDork's feet.  Aren't they lovely?  She doesn't know this, but I married her for her feet. 

We spent the first four days of the vacation sitting on the beach.  Mrs. SportDork finished four books.  I finished one - 'cause I don't read so good.  We have a very strict "one activity a day" policy while on vacation, and that activity can be anything from walking across the street for lunch to showering.  Not together.  We're married.  That's gross.

I'm not sure whether I saw more bare breasts or more tattoos on the beach.  There were a lot of both.  And frankly, the tattoos were far more impressive than the breasts. 

Since our trip, I have given a lot of thought to my position on topless sunbathing, and here's what I've come up with: I believe topless sunbathing should either be outlawed or subject to strict regulation - like a committee that evaluates prospective topless sunbathers and then issues a special permit if they feel the applicant's breasts pass a certain aesthetic threshold.  And no, I don't want to be on the committee.  After what I saw in Ibiza, the members of that committee would have to be compensated very generously for their time.  Very generously.  I realize that I may be accused of sexism with these comments, and I would agree with that assessment if I were running around the beach in a banana-hammock.  But I'm not, and it's because both my package and a pair of bad breasts have one thing in common: nobody wants to see them on the beach. 

We couldn't score chairs with a permanent hut every day, so I took matters into my own hands and bought an umbrella.  Here I am trying to put up the umbrella and stare at the "tattoos" on the woman on the right at the same time:



They had a lot of different colors, but I thought bright green (on the chair) was the most obnoxious.

I also witnessed a lot of bathing suit changing on the beach.  Maybe my English and European readers can shed some light on this practice - that is, if I have any English or European readers.  For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, I have noticed that when Europeans are at the beach and they come out of the water, many immediately change into a fresh bathing suit.  I don't know how many suits they bring to the beach, but if that suit gets wet, they're changing it.  I have been unable to ascertain whether this is simply a comfort issue, or if there's something else going on that I need to know about.  To be honest, with all the bathing suit changing going on around me in Ibiza, I started to get a little worried.  I though that maybe I should be changing my bathing suit after I came out of the water, for fear that there might be some toxin in the ocean that, after prolonged contact with my skin, would eventually cause my genitals to fall off.  Now that would ruin the vacation.  No such tragedy occurred, so I don't think it is anything as nefarious as a genital toxin.  Probably just a comfort thing.  I guess I just never viewed a wet bathing suit as that much of a hassle.  At least not as much of a hassle as remembering to pack multiple bathing suits and then performing some kind of Houdini-esque bathing suit changing ritual in the middle of the beach.  I'd end up falling down and getting sand all over me, and then I've have to go back in the water to wash it off, and then I'd have to change suits again, and then I'd probably fall again..................................you get the picture.

We actually did walk around San Antonio Bay one day to see what it was all about.  It has a rich history and is steeped in tradition, as the local monuments demonstrate:

The triumvirate of Spanish cuisine.  I had an "El Whoppero."

Ok - here's an actual monument:

 

This is "The Egg."  I have no idea why it's there or what it means.  I actually took this picture for two other reasons.  First, notice the roundabout sign.  You want confusion?  Spend two months getting used to going through roundabouts in one direction, and then try and go through 'em the other way.  Not that I was driving, but it was still scary.  I also took the picture for the sign on the hotel in the background:



I still can't believe we stayed at the Bellamar when we could have been in the same building as "Disco Extasis." 

There are great ocean views from the boardwalk that winds along the bay.  Here's a shot of Mrs. SportDork taking in the view:



Well, she was taking in the view, but then she turned around for the picture.

Because of all the great views, there are a ton of "chillout bars" on this stretch that look out over the water.  A chillout bar is apparently a place where you go to chill out and watch the sunset before you go to the clubs at midnight.  Chillout bars also play techno music and have dj's, but they play mellower stuff than the clubs - so you can chillout.  I was a little skeptical about my ability to chill out while listening to a dj play techno music, so Mrs. SportDork and I decided to check it out:



I'm on the phone with my Chief Statistics Officer ("CSO"), getting the latest SportDork.com financial reports.  "We took a bath on grain futures? No biggie.  I feel surprisingly chilled out!!"
Congratulations if you recognized the t-shirt.  Go Gators.

On the way back to our hotel after chilling out, we came across this establishment:



I'm no restaurateur, so maybe I'm not in a position to offer opinions regarding operating hours, but that's just not a whole lot of time to get something to eat.  Plus - I don't know about you, but I'm not real big on mojitos or sangria before noon.  I think the guy on the right put the sign together.  He was probably at Disco Extasis last night.

We left the chillout bars before sunset, but we were able to catch it back at our hotel:



The SportDork enjoying a strategically selected beverage at the Bellamar.


Tuesday - The Ibiza Chronicles - The Final Chapter!!!