We rushed out of town to catch our 9:55 PM flight from Barcelona to Ibiza. And while we didn’t know it at the time, it turns out that we boarded the wrong train, even after we could reasonably gather that two metro workers had pointed us to it. It was the most crowded train I’ve been on—the guy who conveniently placed his ass in my face for the majority of the ride definitely needed a change! We still thought we were heading in the right direction toward the airport, but once it got to about t-minus 30 minutes, we were worrying: shouldn’t we be there by now?

It was at this time that Paul also realized he had misplaced his passport, and was frantically searching his bags to find it. After looking through everything twice, he was fairly certain he had left it hidden in our apartment. Moral of the story: don’t hide your passport away like your secret stash kids, you might forget it if you’re leaving in a rush! So we’re tripping about if Paul would even be able to board the flight with us or whether he would have to catch up a day or two late. Meanwhile, it turned out that no, we weren’t on the way to the airport, we were on the way to the absolute middle of nowhere! It seemed reasonable that a free train to the airport would be so busy, but why everybody in Barcelona goes here in the middle of the night, I will never know! And not only was this the middle of nowhere, but it was pretty ghetto too! Oh well, so now it was blatantly obvious that we were not going to make it to the airport in time to catch our scheduled flight—we waited patiently for the return train and used Tim’s Blackberry to search the net for solutions to our little predicament. Over the phone, Clickair (a subsidiary of Iberian Airlines) told us they wouldn’t refund our tickets, but if we came in they would give us a 20% discount on new tix. Oh well, 500 bucks on my credit card well spent! It’s not a true adventure until something goes wrong.

We spent several hours running around Barcelona like chickens with our heads cut off—only chickens with 40 pound packs on our backs—and we missed the 11 PM ferry to Ibiza by a matter of minutes. We missed the internet cafe. So we grabbed a pizza at a local vendor. Que pasa nada. Plan D: we finally gave in to our destiny, checked our bags at the Hotel Arts across town (where we’ll stay next week), and decided to stay up all night and catch the 6:45 AM flight in the morning. No point trying to find reservations and sleep at this point. At about 1 AM we went to Shoko Restaurant & Lounge Club across the street and enjoyed some DJ music for a while. I also struck up conversation with these three local hotties—Yanina and Lupe were two of them, don’t remember the third’s name—a big accomplishment for me with my extremely limited Spanish. Anyways, with them on our arms, we easily got into the big disco next door, Catwalk, and danced until 4:30 in the morning.

Sun, Dec 30: We taxi’d it to the airport by 5, and Tim and I bought new tickets for the 6:45 plane, but Paul had to track down the policia and fill out a lost passport report to get approval to travel without it. Then the fuckers took my laptop lock! Because, of course, laptop cables pose a dangerous terrorist threat to Ibiza! In summary, we barely made the 6:45 flight, but at last we were all on the same plane and destined for the Balearic Islands!

This is why we were meant to be on this plane! There was this incredibly gorgeous Barcelona girl and two friends that I took a seat right next to. Smokin’ hot—easily a 9 or 9.5 if you ask me. So when the time was right, and I finally grew a pair, I leaned across the aisle and asked them about themselves and for tips for a first-time trip to Ibiza. Jennifer, Ester, and Maria. Turns out that Hottie has a house in Sant Antoni, the other side of the island from Ibiza Town, and I got the scoop on what beaches and sunset bars to look for. I also left with two of their phone numbers, so it all worked out alright. Maybe we’ll catch up with them for New Year’s Eve…

We checked into the Hostal Parque. The streets were dead at 7AM, but it turns out that our hotel is right in the center of the winter-time action. Plaça del Parque fills up with locals enjoying coffee and lunch in the afternoon, and lights up with a carnival and live music at night. And we have a balcony that overlooks the whole square and the old town—Dalt Villa, very pretty by night.

Later that night, we spent a few hours wandering around looking for this place Bar Incognito with Lori, a gal we had met at the nearby internet cafe. Lori is from San Francisco, and she’s on a month-long hiatus from work as sadly, she just had a miscarriage—traveling on her own to work some things out before she goes back to real life. Bar Incognito turned out to be VERY incognito, and unfortunately closed for Sunday night. But at least we found the location for clubbing tomorrow night, and some good restaurants on the marina. Back at Plaça del Parque, it definitely seems as though we picked a good central spot with lots of cool-season traffic—we came back to find some pretty cool live music and relaxed at Cafe Bliss on our square for some late night chorizo & wine before calling it a night.

Mon, Dec 31: I met up with Lori for some brunch at Cafe Bliss again, and for some sightseeing. The two of us hit a few clothing shops, where she helped me pick out two nice designer shirts in the local style, and then I joined her in the hot tub back at her fancy hotel the Royal Plaza. Later Tim and I spoke with Ester, the reception girl in our hotel, who helped us find a primo spot for New Year’s Eve dinner. After sharing some holiday sangria, the three of us walked across the marina, where we dined at Trattoria del Mar, an Italian resto right on the water. For 95 Euros each, we were served a fine seafood dinner—caviar, oysters, crab cake, prawns, tuna, and more. The Spanish tradition is to eat 12 grapes when the New Year starts, one for good luck for each month of the year. And of course there were the normal noisemakers, hats, masks, silly string, and kisses on the cheek.

Once dinner died down after 1AM, we went to Pacha, one of only two of the big clubs open for New Year’s Eve. Everyone was supposed to be there. And everyone was! We waited in line for a while to get in, waited even longer in coat check. Pacha’s supposed to have 15 bars, and all of them appeared to be open. I don’t even know how many dance floors, but this place was pretty huge, and cavernous. It was multilevel, and seemed to burrow down into the earth. The music was good. Dancers were amazing. We somehow bumped into a few gals from the US and chatted for a while. All good times, and we ended up back at home and in bed by about 5 or 6. Just in time to get four hours of sleep and go back out again in the morning!

Tues, Jan 1: After a little shut eye, we had a morning glass of champagne to ring in the new year, and caught a taxi to the next club. That’s right, the dancing goes all night, all day, and all night again for New Year’s here on Ibiza. We arrived at DC-10 by about 11AM—the earliest I’ve ever been clubbing. This is the all-day hotspot that all the locals recommended, where the party starts at 6AM and goes until 3AM the next day. And slowly but steadily, everyone came out in style, with their sunglasses to protect them from the sun’s penetrating rays, and with tequila/orange in hand. It was a very interesting mix of all demographics. We met this one gent Alberto, a friendly, gentle guy probably in his 40s that spoke flawless English. Several telltale signs gave him away as one of the bigger drug dealers at the venue, but he was very relaxed and nonaggressive, and actually held a very interesting conversation with us about his experiences in the US, about education, and spirituality. Interesting dude!

Later, we finally had some blue skies and sunshine and were able to explore the Dalt Villa, the old walled village just adjacent to our square, toped with a centuries-old Catedral at the top of a hill. Tim scaled the crumbling ancient wall, and as we climbed up to the beautiful vista point, my camera batteries powered down! The view was spectacular, but I was almost regretting it—almost wanting to turn back, afraid to finish the trip because I had no way to capture the amazing shots of the bay, the cliffs, the ocean, and lighthouse. This is what the Balearic islands are all about! The weather was absolutely perfect. The three of us sat on the edge of the wall and enjoyed the chill, relaxing sound of the waves for about 15 minutes. We kept pressing towards the cathedral at the summit, and we later found some fun local kids that played around with us for a while. A wonderful, beautiful last afternoon on Ibiza.

Wed, Jan 2: Wednesday morning, we were scheduled to fly back to Barcelona, but I woke up at about 5 AM with food poisoning. I won’t go into details, but this was one of the worst days of my life. Tried to make the best of the afternoon by chatting with Ester at the front desk while the guys went out shopping as we waited to leave for the airport. I had to work hard for it, but we finally arrived at the Hotel Arts in Barcelona—very primo, on the 21st floor overlooking the sea and the city, and with a killer Bang and Olufsen sound system to enjoy our chill Ibiza CDs on.

Thurs, Jan 3: Today was a day of rest, and all we really did was set out to retrieve Paul’s misplaced passport at the old apartment. It’s awful nice to have a free room at the 74th rated hotel in all of Europe (earned with Paul’s business travel credits), but the downside to staying at the Ritz is that everything costs money, and it’s out of our league! Can you believe, a bottle of Jack Daniels costs 120 Euros here!? Is that what it means to be rich? To be willing to pay an obscene, complete unreasonable premium on everyday things? It’s a great room, so I’m not complaining, but it’s kind of the place you go to stay in your safe tower, high above the city, not really to experience a place, but to grace it with your presence for a few nights and drop a few cool grand.

So, I broke the rules and bought some groceries and some Wok to Walk, which should last me a few days. There’s no kitchenette, but with a little ingenuity I can make meals for the next few days. Paul and I ran some errands while Tim went to pick up his French girlfriend, but the skies opened up over Barcelona and started pouring rain like crazy so I retired for the day to care for my upset stomach and brewing cold.

Read the original article on Thrilling Heroics here: Balearic Adventure: Spain for the Holidays, Part III

We got back to the apartment to find Tim had returned home early (apparently he’d gotten a late start and ended up at the wrong metro stop, not to mention that he’s coming down with Bronchitis), so we all relaxed for a while, enjoying some Spanish television and the balcony, and then the three of us went out and caught the metro to Park Guell. Park Guell is a destination at the north end of town that had been recommended to me by every person who’d been here to Barcelona before. Apparently, the landscape architecture was designed by the famous local artist Gaudi, and the park’s central attraction is a great mountaintop vista of the whole city of Barcelona. So, we raced up about a dozen sets of outdoor stairs and escalators on the hill up to the park, hiked around for an hour or two, and Paul was given some unsolicited advice by a Japanese tourist he asked politely to take our photo: she exclaimed, “What background? You want this?! This is NOTHING!” while Tim and I burst into laughter!

Park Guell

I began to feel a pain like no pain I’d ever felt before in my right foot. My shoes are broken in pretty well, and I guess the sole of my shoe has worn down into a funny, uncomfortable shape that is extremely hard on the arch of my right foot after 6 hours of intense dancing and 12 hours of extreme hiking around, so I was limping pretty badly by the time a cafe busboy in the park (actually, a 50-something-year-old man that some spiny, mean creature must have crawled up into and died) got pissy at me for putting my foot up on one of his chairs! Laughs all around, again.

We dined with two local Spanish girls tonight. Meye (“may-yai,” short for Mercedes) is a friend that Tim and Ryan made while on their climbing expeditions—a really neat, very generous Barcelona woman, she runs her own company creating designs for pet accessories—and graciously invited us to her B-town flat for the evening. And Barbara is a younger friend of hers who is also into climbing and apparently an anthropology grad student in town (pretty cute, too). We made ourselves at home, and the six of us shared some great salad, chorizo, pasta, wine, and lots of Spanish sweets, and then shared several stories until about 1:30 am! They were really welcoming and great fun!

Dinner at Meye’s flat.

Afterward, we hired Jason Statham from “The Transporter” to taxi us back home to La Rambla, where he quickly shrieked, “Close the doors!! Aaaghh!” as we were attacked from all directions by African hookers at 2 in the morning! Oh, the adventures of international travel.

Thurs, Dec 27: After I finally rolled out of bed in a stupor and poured a cup of coffee, Paul accompanied me over near Plaça Catalunya to check out the local clothing & fashion shops. I bought some hot new shoes in the local fashion—interesting how Reeboks, Converse, or Adidas here go for about 120 Euros, which is a crap ton in US dollars, but I got these real decent Euro-style shoes for a cheap 42 Euros! Much easier on my foot. These boots were made for walkin’!

Ryan’s been working on some application essays for medical school, so when he returned from the internet cafe, we rented bikes around the corner to tour around the city for an hour. The four of us cycled down to the marina (remember, we’re here on the northern edge of the Mediterranean Sea) and followed the beach to Port Olympia, where we saw the amazing hotel we’ll be staying in on our trip back through B-town—the Hotel Arts Barcelona, by Ritz Carlton! (Five stars, rated like 76th in all of Europe! Thanks for that, Paul!) I had a blast cruising around on bikes with the guys, seeing the beach, all the local sailboats and yachts, and people watching. I visited the supermercado for some milk and 7-up (the water here tastes horrible, unfortunately).

Biking on the Barcelona boardwalk

The Hotel Arts Barcelona

We then hiked a few blocks to the open-air market looking for fresh meats, cheese and bread. At a stop for some seafood appetizers and a drink, we met two nice gals who work in London—one from New York and one from New Zealand. It was neat to hear a native English-speaker! There’s not a lot of them here in the off-season, and I don’t speak Spanish well!

Sadly, it’s Ryan’s last night with us, so the four of us went for a fancy dinner right next door at a nice resto called Biblioteca at about 11pm. Paul had had a few drinks, and was becoming a mild handful giving everyone the 20 questions on camera and talking at length about Shanghai, all in good fun, but a little tiring nonetheless. Oh well. I had duck with a red wine reduction and potatoes, for the first time in my life. Also had a bite of pigeon for the first time! Mmm, street birds! We went to the bar down the street from us, but I needed some air after a while and eventually later on, back at the apartment, got into the inevitable confrontation you get into with extended travel partners with Paul. It was a-okay though, as it’s one of those experiences that makes you closer to the other person afterward, and the two of us ended up going for a 3am walk all the way back out to Port Olympia—which is almost completely silent and dead at this time of morning, much unlike the buzzing part of town we’re in. Now, I’m downloading Moroccan rap & dance music to the laptop.

Fri, Dec 28: Today is a rest day. After staying out until 6 in the morning all week, I’m feeling pretty tired, so I slept most of the day today and tried to preserve my energy. I’ve been writing, emailing, and working from the apartment. And reading my Vagabonding book. It’s just me, Paul, and Tim now. We did go a few metro stops down to visit the post office so Tim could ship some climbing equipment back to the States. It’s funny how the simplest activities can become such adventures when you’re in a foreign culture!

Paul then convinced us to wander toward the local Arc de Triomf, we had a cafe con leche & pastry along the way, and wandered through the park. As we wandered back, Paul & Tim went to a Che Guevara exhibit at a nearby museum, but I was out of steam and header back to our flat. I passed out while the guys got Chinese food. Then strangely, I was restless all night (!), and stayed up chatting on AIM, messaging on the Ibiza discussion boards, and writing New Years resolutions.

Barcelona’s Arc de Triomf

Sat, Dec 29: I’ll be doing chores most of the day today in preparation for our 9:55 pm flight to Ibiza tonight. I’ve got to have a few coffees to feel alive, get my laundry washed, clean up the apartment, and pack my things. So, nothing too exciting, but I’ll report from Ibiza as soon as I can.

Check out my Flickr photostream for more photos!

Read the original article on Thrilling Heroics here: Spain for the Holidays, Part II

Mon Dec 24: Munich is completely frosted over, but the pilot made the softest landing I’ve ever felt. I had to double check whether we had even touched ground yet! Thank goodness for German perfection. This was a quick one-hour layover, so I was happy that we weren’t set back in Washington. The next flight was a very quick jaunt to London, during which every crew member spoke German to me, even though it was quite obvious that at least 60% of the passengers were British!

Upon arrival at Heathrow, I had a four-hour window in which to get my boarding passes and eat a decent meal before the last leg of the trip. Unfortunately I was met with what looked to be about a five-hour queue at the British Airways desk. Making the best of it, I met a friendly Romanian student, Mircea, doing an IBM internship in New York. The poor guy had gotten stuck in London on his way back home for Christmas, but we had a lot to chat about — very nice fellow!

On the final flight to Barcelona, I met a couple from Seattle on their way to see their parents in the south of Spain, and spoke at length with my neighbor, a kind older British gentleman, who told me of all his travels and shared that he was moving to Spain. After wandering around aimlessly for a short while, I met Paul at the BCN airport and we happened across a very nice local who pointed us in the right direction to catch the train into the heart of Barcelona. We followed Tim’s directions toward La Rambla, the mainstreet through downtown Barca, but the local tel # didn’t work at the payphone, so Paul and I had to guess our own way to the apartment. =)

The flat is AMAZING — it IS as awesome as the pictures, thankfully! Tim and Ryan have some impressive stories to share about their time traveling through Morocco and Spain so far. The four of us went for a beer at a little tavern on La Rambla, where we met a friendly German traveler who let us chat with him for a while. We then stopped in to witness the midnight mass at La Catedral — a good way to spend Christmas Eve. This seems like a fun place to spend Christmas — almost every street is literally decked out in lights and decorations that span across from building to building! At about 2AM, we did the Spanish thing and headed over to Fellini, a dance club just around the corner from our flat. The clubs here don’t really get going until around 1 or 2AM, and on party nights, the party goes until 6 in the morning. (Then apparently, some of the girls say, people go to work around 10 or so and then real hardcore purists take a siesta break around 2 – 5!) The club had a great selection of top hits and electronic music, and Tim and I kept it going to some energetic house and trance until about 6:30! It was probably the most intense dance club experience of my life! And this is only day 1 in Spain! But what better way to start off Christmas Day?

One of the rooms in our posh flat.

Ryan, Tim, and Paul standin’ on stuff at Fellini.

Tues Dec 25: I woke to the sounds of Tim’s Moroccan drums at about 3:30 this afternoon. I know that makes me sound like a lazy slob, but hey, it was a looong trip, followed by a long night! It’s okay, we can get a chance to catch up during the afternoon siesta, and dinner around here isn’t until about 10PM or later. My kinda place! =)

Paul, Tim, and I wandered up La Rambla a ways to Plaça Catalunya and grabbed a cafe con leche. We later stopped in a take-away Asian food restaurant for some Christmas fried rice across the street from our flat, where I chatted at length with Tim about his travels through Thailand, his leadership retreats that he has given around the world, and his first book on personal development and Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, coming out soon. I crashed again for an hour or two, but awoke to the whole gang back at the place, and Ryan was busy whipping up an awesome meal for us all. The four of us enjoyed some marinated pork, spicy ravioli, Catalan peppers, salad, and champaign for Christmas dinner, and shared more adventures while listening to some peppy Berber pop music! It’s my first time meeting Tim and Ryan, and Paul’s first time meeting Ryan as well, so it’s fun to all get to know each other at the same time, and to have such interesting and fun-spirited travel partners! Tim lives in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and runs Grand Dynamics, while Ryan is a physician’s assistant in SF.

Tim, Paul, and myself at Plaça Catalunya.

Sitting down for a great Christmas dinner.

Post dinner-time, we all had a caipirhana at a packed little bar down our side street, and then Paul and I wandered down toward the marina. We walked around the city for a few hours and saw Port Valle and Port Olympia, where we’ll stay on our way back through Barcelona the second half of the trip. One unfortunate thing about European nightlife is that there IS NO escape from smelling like cigarettes! My sweaty airplane shirt smells better than any of the clothes I’ve worn out since! Haha. That, and the fact that my whole body is now thoroughly sore from yesterday’s five hours of dancing and todays hours of walking, so I took the opportunity to use the other guys’ shower for my first HOT rinse in four days! (One drawback to renting a place as opposed to staying in a hotel — the plumbing on our side of the apartment is out of whack.) Now I’ve been up typing and listening to the soothing sounds of Mallorca on the TV, and I think it’s like 5:40 or something crazy in the morning again, so I better get some rest before tomorrow!

Read the original article on Thrilling Heroics here: Spain for the Holidays, Part I

Tim and Paul are experienced globetrotters, so I’m really looking forward to this trip as a great “training wheels” experience before I go conquer Thailand all on my own! Tim Walther is president of Grand Dynamics, an awesome company that does corporate retreats and team building adventures. He’s also an accomplished rock climber, and he and his buddy Ryan have already been traveling across Morocco and Spain this month doing climbs. Check this site to see some of their recent adventures — these are the guys I’m going with! So far this December, they’ve already ventured to desert kasbahs and been bitten by camels, climbed with a 7-time female Spanish climbing champion, attended a Barça v. Stuttgard futbol match, and more! So I know this is gonna be unforgettable!

Tim and Ryan will be awaiting our arrival on the 24th in Barcelona, where we’ve already booked this incredible executive apartment — 4 bed/3 bath in the heart of the city center on La Rambla. Look at these photos — it’s incredible what you can find at such a decent price when you know where to look.

After the 29th, the plan is to hit up Ibiza, one of Spanish Balearic Islands in the Mediterranean Sea. The island is home to the biggest night club in the world and is best known for its intense summer parties, with thousands of European vacationers flooding in for beach raves and foam parties. But it also has a softer side — winter is the off-season, and though several of the clubs close down, the locals say it’s the best time of year, with blooming almond trees, relatively warm-ish temperatures (highs of 61-62), and space to enjoy the beautiful beaches.

We might do Pacha for their giant NYE bash, maybe Amnesia, and DC-10 for their all-day after party. These Ibiza clubs have become the center of the worldwide electronic music movement — tons of house and trance and others of my favorite eclectic musical tastes all come out of this spot, so I’m super excited! The “Balearic Beat” sound in the 80s and 90s was typified by heavy, slow, R&B-influenced beats, with drum ‘n bass, laid-back swing-beat patterns, soul, Latin, African, funk, and dub ingredients. DJ Paul Oakenfold imported this awesome sound to London and it influenced electronic music around the world. Ibiza is also a haven to artists like Sasha, John Digweed, David Guetta, New Order, and the ambient chill-out music of Café del Mar.

I’ll do my best to keep you all updated with some fun travel journals while I’m abroad, so keep an eye on this site. On my way back, I hope to check in with a friend or two in London for a night (I’ll being staying January 7th if anyone’s reading), and then visit my cousin Ian Achimore for a few days in Washington, D.C. (where he’s attending Georgetown) before I return home.

Read the original article on Thrilling Heroics here: Invading Spain for the Holidays!