Ibiza: Sun, Villas, and Decisions 

By Lapel Stick

So, after months of talking about it, debating, going back and forth, maybe overthinking just a little, Sarah and I finally decided: Screw it, let’s just go.

One week in Ibiza. No work, no emails, no distractions—just full focus on finding this villa. (And okay, maybe some seafood and a few glasses of wine along the way, because let’s be honest, I wasn’t going to spend a week in Ibiza eating sad airport salads.)

Max even decided to tag along for a few days. Which, yeah, sure, “family bonding,” but also—he suddenly seemed very interested once he realized Ibiza wasn’t just some sleepy island.

Step One: Settle In & Pretend We’re Not Overanalyzing Everything

The moment we landed? That Ibiza magic hit.

The air just feels different there. Warm breeze, deep blue sea, everything looking like it’s been lightly edited for a travel ad. Even Max—who rarely shows enthusiasm for anything that doesn’t involve AI research—seemed impressed.

Mornings became routine fast:

  1. Strong coffee.
  2. Walk by the marina, pretending we could afford a yacht.
  3. Casual debates about how financially reckless it would be to actually buy one.

(Answer: very. But also… tempting?)

Then came lunch on the first day—and this is where I had my first why-have-I-never-eaten-this-before moment.

Fideuà.

Imagine paella, but instead of rice, crispy-edged, saffron-soaked noodles packed with seafood. Add a cold bottle of white wine. Absolute perfection. At this point, I was already thinking, Yeah, okay, I could live here.

The House Hunt Begins (a.k.a. The Emotional Rollercoaster)

We had three properties lined up. Each one had something, but not all of them had enough.

  1. Ultra-modern glass box on a hill.
    • Pros: Stunning Mediterranean views. Minimalist, sleek, floor-to-ceiling everything.
    • Cons: Looked like the set of a sci-fi movie. No warmth. No soul. Also, I give it five years before it starts looking dated. Next.
  2. Rustic finca, straight out of a postcard.
    • Pros: Full of charm. Whitewashed walls, terracotta tiles, an actual olive tree garden.
    • Cons: Miles from anywhere. Lovely if you want to live like a hermit, less great if you ever want to see another human.
  3. The One.
    • Pros: Traditional Ibizan stone villa. Thick walls, arched naya, sea views. Walkable to the marina (important for our definitely unnecessary boat plans). Close enough for the kids to hit the nightlife, far enough that I wouldn’t have to hear it.
    • Cons: Needed work. Kitchen? Rip it out. Bathrooms? Redo them. Landscaping? A project. But—worth it.

We kept coming back to that last one. It just felt right.

Nights in Ibiza: Tapas, Decisions, and “How Much for a Gin & Tonic?”

Evenings became our debrief sessions. We’d find a tapas bar, order way too much food, and go in circles about what we wanted.

  • Patatas bravas.
  • Gambas al ajillo.
  • Jamón ibérico. (Expensive. Worth every cent.)

We were overthinking everything.

Until one night, we just… stopped.

We were sitting at this little outdoor spot, drinks in hand, plates empty, bottle of red halfway gone. And suddenly, it was obvious.

We were making an offer.

Not just talking about it. Actually doing it.

And Just Like That, It Was Happening

By the time the week wrapped up, the offer was in. The ball was rolling. Renovations were already being mentally planned. Sarah was Pinterest-ing furniture, Max was googling boats again, and I was trying to figure out how we went from “maybe one day” to “okay, this is real” in just seven days.

The Flight Home: One Last Thought (and One Big Lie)

As the plane took off, I looked down at the island, already picturing mornings on that terrace.

For half a second, I even thought: You know what? I didn’t even think about smoking this whole trip.

Total lie.

Frankfurt and Amsterdam next. Let’s see how this plays out.

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