More photos from the photographic island of Ibiza.
We had sangria a couple of times. We went into a restaurant, le Tomate acutally, and it was owned by French people, with French music on the radio and waiters who spoke French. Two girls were sitting there with a pitcher of White Sangria and a plate of mixed tapas so we ordered a pitcher ourselves. It was very good. Unfortunately, we ordered steak instead of the tapas. The meat was cut very strangely butchered and difficult to eat and I had to cut off pieces here and there around fat and, I guess, sinew (whatever holds meat together), and then Maurice tells me that Spain is known for that. I wish he had remembered before we ordered. The sangria made up for it.
A look at the restaurant itself. I felt like I was in Mexico, which I used to dearly love and, to add to the magic, there was a jazzy rendition of Bessa Me Mucho playing as we walked in, my favorite Mexican song.
We went into a little church there and, instead of wax candles to light in front of saints or Mary or Jesus, there was this covered collection of battery operated candles and, if you put in enough money, a little light would come on for the amount of time you wanted. No cheating here and they didn’t have to keep up a supply of candles either.
Coming to Paris? Check on Girl’s Guide to Paris on right side of my blog.
Have a place in central Denver that you want to exchange for a cute place in Montmartre, Paris? Check out the right side of my blog.