DJ Trava

“Did you know Ibiza is eighty kilometers off the coast of Valencia, Spain?” I asked Alma. She was drying her hair in a big white hotels Ibiza towel, then tied on top of her head like a turban. I could never figure out how she did that. “No, I didn’t, Professor,” she said back. I love travel trivia. On car trips, I write down beginning mileage, mileage at fill ups so I can calculate gas mileage, time started and ended, average time, average mileage, well, everything. Alma did not get it. Is it a guy thing? “That is correct,” I said. “Now, would you care hear the average rainfall, temperature, altitude…?” “That’s okay, how about we just get breakfast and go from there.” Alma is a great sport, and fun to travel with. She is practical where I have too many things I want to see. I present her with a portfolio of things to do, like, say in Ibiza where we are going next, and she will right away come up with a practical way to see the best of them. That’s how we roll, I tell her. We were planning to go to Playa d’en Bossa, the biggest beach in Ibiza, so they say, a mild to Ibiza beach scene that Alma said would be good starting point, and that we would decide if we wanted to sample the wilder beaches elsewhere on the island. On the boat ride across the Mediterranean Sea we had a picnic, and we sat on the top deck in the shade of a canopy and had salads and ham and opened a bottle of wine. the wide blue sea stretched out before us and eventually we nodded off and before we knew it were awakened by the ship’s horn, which seemed to be right behind our heads which gave us such a scare hearing it we about jumped out of our skin. It was a surprise, much a the island of Ibiza would turn out to be.

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