Ibiza, Spain
Tonight is all about the sunset and saying our goodbyes, taking the nightflight home to return to mundanity. But we have hours yet until the airport calls and a beautiful day ahead of us to enjoy to the max.
So with bags packed and stuffed into a taxi we check out of the Garbi at midday and head over to Marina Botafoch, across from Ibiza Town, to meet Emma at her favourite restaurant, Passion. One of the few organic and vegan-friendly establishments on the island, it serves an array of delicious food including a Detox smoothie, which Coman decides is just the thing he needs after last night.
I opt for a Think Pink berry drink while Emma loads up on breakfast muesli and bananas, to the confused enjoyment of Sunny who keeps trying to eat the slices of banana from the bowl but can't stop them slipping and sliding around her mouth, the texture a totally new one for her and proving difficult to grasp.
We transfer our bags to the back of Emma's car and she takes us on to Talamanca to check out her cute little house. It's a two storey whitewashed casa with a little garden and a beautiful view from the bedroom balcony to the Old Town in the distance. Full of Emma's furniture and art from her time in Australia it's a real home in the heart of Ibiza.
We're here to pick up Emma's other furry companion, a one-eyed cat called Sabre, and take it to the vet. Never the easiest of tasks, getting Sabre into her camouflage carry case proves a tricky affair, with Sunny racing round trying to help, but in she finally goes and we all hop back in the car and drive to the vet's in the town of Jesus.
Coman is in the back with Sunny at his feet and Sabre wriggling in the case, and suddenly we hear a surprised yelp - Sabre has managed to unzip herself out of the case using a deft flick of her paw and is now roaming free. Emma quickly activates the windows which close just in time to prevent the cat making a dash for freedom and I manage to grab Sabre onto my lap, to prevent Coman having to do it; his cat allergies being so pronounced that even just a bit of contact will have us racing to the pharmacist for antihistamines within minutes.
Fortunately Emma also has a more substantial wire cage in the boot which we wrestle Sabre into and off she goes for her injections, balefully looking at us from her startling single eye.
Emma is meeting up with us again later for dinner and to drive us to the airport so Coman and I hail a cab in Jesus and travel across to Cala Conte on the western side of the island, and out to Sunset Ashram, a chilled out restaurant above the beach which is just perfect to catch the dying embers of the day.
Jo has booked us all a table here for 7pm, but we arrive at 3 o'clock and luck out with a gorgeous, Moroccan-style seated area of cushions and a low table all to ourselves, gazing out to sea, where we settle down to while away the day with a bottle of wine and a fine lunch of smoked salmon salad and a wagyu kobe beefburger. Absolutely delicious.
The afternoon passes in a peaceful daze, Coman listening to his ipod and stretched out dozing, while I upload photos and tap away on my blackberry, the final hours of Ibizan vibes making us very content, until somewhere around 6pm we hear chanting getting closer and closer.
Around the promontory appears a procession, led by a dreadlocked dancer, all singing "We all live in a Yellow Submarine", whilst strumming guitars, banging tambourines, waving CND signs and Flower Power banners. Like a deliriously sunny band of Hare Krishnas, the parade wanders past the restaurant and descends on to the beach where they gather a crowd who all start swaying and dancing.
While this is a promotion for the Pacha nightclub and its wildly popular Tuesday night event, Flower Power - a musical extravaganza of 60s and 70s tunes to counter-balance the more electronic sounds of today - it's a nice touch to see that the original hippy ideals of Ibiza live on, even if they have been co-opted to sell tickets to a super-club.
The parade passes on, heading who knows where, still singing of peace and love, until they disappear out of sight to the sounds of Free's 'All Right Now'. We relax back, watching the surging waves crashing on to the sand and the sun slowly starting its descent, a cheeky mojito in hand, and wait for the girls to join us.
Jo, Nic and Dani arrive about 7.30 and we all move to a booth in the main restaurant with a perfect view of the sunset which is starting to paint the sky orange. Sinead and Sarah arrive an hour later and soak up the dying rays, the essential moment captured by a myriad of cameras, all keen to touch the mystical Ibizan sunset without which no trip to the island is complete.
We eat and drink as night falls, "serenaded" by a howling woman in a mask, who has obviously been paid to entertain the guests, but is so woefully out of tune and a native Spanish speaker unable to cope with English pronunciation, that she mangles every twisted, bellowed note into painful, unrecognisable torture. God knows how she's bribed the owners into thinking booking her is a good idea, but she 's so desperate for attention she even comes and sits down next to me in the seat we've saved for Emma and starts singing so loudly at our embarrassed faces that the microphone becomes redundant.
Thankfully we're joined by Emma and Sunny for the final hour, until Coman and I need to make tracks to catch our plane. Fond farewells are shared around and soon we're on our way, Emma dropping us at the airport for our midnight flight home.
It's been another fine visit to one of our favourite destinations, the temptation to move here and live the Ibizan dream rearing itself as ever. One day we'll do just that, but for now we say adios and au revoir - until next year...
