For a few minutes, the whole island seems to know where to look.
At first, everyone is still doing something. Finishing a conversation, finding a chair, trying to take a photograph without somebody else’s arm in it. Then the light changes enough to interrupt. Faces turn towards the water. The afternoon becomes an evening before anyone has quite decided what the evening will be.
An Ibiza sunset can be a public ritual or an intensely private hour. You might want the anticipation outside Mambo, where the music and the crowd suggest there is plenty of night left. You might want a table at La Torre, with no reason to go anywhere else. At Comte, the islets and water can hold your attention before the sky does anything dramatic at all.
The useful question is who you want to be with, and how. Choose the place around that answer. Arrive while there is still daylight to enjoy it, and resist treating the disappearance of the sun as the signal to pack up. Some of the evening’s best colour comes from the people who stay.












