September 2nd, 2009
Ibiza’s San Jose Village
“OK, I know the way to San Jose,” I sang to Angela as I had just returned from the Ibiza car rentals office and had a map, high lighted, marked and ready to go. “Here ya go,” I said as I handed her the map. Her map reading skills were not the greatest (we once got lost driving from Sydney to Melbourne with her at the navigator spot, and we might have wound up in Perth) but I needed her to look out as I drove the unfamiliar roads of Ibiza and to see a a few sights. We had met a lovely British couple who told us to go to San Jose to get away from the glitz of the Ibiza scene and check out its beautiful church and nice restaurants and, even, shopping, which made Angela’s eyes light up. they said to be sure to sip something cool at Es Raco Verd on their terrace and while away the evening listening to music. These Brits were born sales people, they painted such a nice picture of San Jose we wanted to go right then. They waxed poetic about the tapas, the rustic cobblestone streets, and something called sofrit pages a kind of stewed melange of chorizo, various meats, potatoes, a real hit with these two Londoners, and they said it was nice sitting in the shadow of an old church that dominates the town’s central square, in a kind off homey rustic sophistication, or so they said. As for us, getting into our car and pulling out to get to San Jose, we were just about salivating thinking about the great village that sits Shangri La like in our minds. However, despite the directions and the map, we still got lost and would up back at the room with a bottle and take out flat bread pizza. There’s always manana to try again.
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