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what i’m wearing: primark white crochet bikini & primark midi rings
At times, August feels like a never ending Sunday, summer has almost run it’s course and as we near the end, lethargy and laziness seem to slow the season down. It inches along, well so it seems if you find yourself in an empty city, ditched by everyone else for delicious vacations elsewhere. Now, it isn’t long until I too pack a bag and discover something more exotic, but in the anticipation, I was beginning to feel a little stale, as dry as the parched sidewalks that crawl uphill from the beach all the way to my apartment. I wanted to go to the beach, but really I just wanted to go to Ibiza. Airfare and a modest hotel in August for the island are almost as much as a Chanel bag, so I quickly let go of that desire, all the while, silently sulking in the steaming hot city. Now, one of the reasons I am smitten with Ibiza is that the island is covered in charming chiringuitos, undeniably my favourite word in Spanish but also, undeniably my preferred way of enjoying the shore. A chiringuito is in essence, a beach club, where you go mid morning and don’t leave until past sunset, preferably a little bit tipsy. Lunch can be eaten at the beach club, the bathrooms are clean, there are plates of fresh fruit or hummus and cocktails with refreshing icy names served right on the table next to your sun lounger. There is always a gaggle of handsome men around and at least one cute dog to admire. To me it is the epitome of vacation and the only place I could happily spend every single one of my remaining days on earth. Problematically, the watered down, touristy versions that line Barceloneta absolutely lack the magic of what I’ve experienced in places like Ibiza or on the Costa Blanca where I grew up. The city isn’t conducive to a charming chriniguito, it’s a place too crowded, too noisy and absolutely not secluded enough. So when a friend of a friend recommended Hola Beach Club to my only friend in Barcelona named Marta, she promised I would love it so we whizzed out of the city on the train to Sitges. A 5 minute cab ride from the station later and it’s almost as if we had landed directly in Ibiza herself and yes, Ibiza is a woman. A beautiful, tanned, very rich woman – and I am in love with her. But I also very much in love with this tranquil spot too, it was so quiet, so private and so perfect. I foresee many a Sunday being spent here.
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