Ibiza

Ibiza I got back from Ibiza yesterday, a last-minute trip taken to recharge, with Miriana and Martina, who gave me a lovely week. Of course, if I'd been alone I'd certainly have got bored, or I'd have struck up a conversation with someone, and who knows which way the holiday at the end of June '09 would have gone. We set off by car from Cinquale for Rome Fiumicino; after handing the car to the blue car park, we board the Blue Panorama Boeing 737, which, before reaching Ibiza, stops at Naples to pick up more passengers. Here, in the afternoon, they take us to our hotel, the Hotel Bossa Park, with a pool. We have a triple room and all meals included; the food is excellent, even if Miriana turns up her nose when there's fish to eat. We spend a whole day at the water park, where we have fun going down all the slides over and over.

Here there's no problem with topless; even on the beach you see breasts in pairs of every kind - fried-egg, pear-shaped, banana-shaped and so on. This is a place where Germans, English, Italians and Spaniards come for the nightlife and to hook up in discos. Planes land right next to our hotel, and I watch them all from the bedroom. Especially low-cost airlines' planes. One day, on bus number 14, we visit Eivissa, the capital, seeing the castle and the port area from where the boats leave for Formentera, the island that skirts ours. The hotel pool is besieged by Miriana and Martina, complete with fins and mask. I reckon in a week they've been in it 24 hours. On Sunday, after breakfast, they take us to the airport, where without a stopover Blue Panorama flies us directly to Fiumicino, and then a 4-hour drive home, happy with our holiday.