Today was a chill day. After the night at 528 and everything that came with it, the plan was simple: visit the iconic Café del Mar, watch the sunset, eat something decent, and survive. But before getting there, the taxi driver handed me the best story of the trip so far, and we've been stacking up material for days. He told me, with that calm Mediterranean energy ibicencos carry, that on the very same night I was at 528, two Mexicans caught a cab from Pacha toward a nearby hotel. They were arguing with each other inside the taxi, getting louder and more heated until the driver had enough and politely asked them to step out. He didn't want to take them anymore. So what these two geniuses did was get out, wait for the driver to step out too... and drive off with the taxi.

He told me with a smile that mixed disbelief with resignation, like someone who's seen too much on this island. And there I was, dying of laughter but also carrying that wounded national pride only Mexicans understand. The obvious question is: where exactly are you escaping to when Ibiza is an island? Not exactly the most elaborate getaway plan in history. Spoiler: they went straight to their hotel, where the police were already waiting. Mexicans making history in every country we visit, as always.

Arriving at Café del Mar, the place delivers exactly what it promises. It's been the temple of the Ibiza sunset for over four decades and it shows. This isn't a restaurant that happens to have good views: it's an experience built around light, sea, and music. I sat down, ordered, and let it happen.

To eat: carpaccio with some kind of Iberian chile that someone clearly designed trying to replicate heat without understanding what heat actually is, plus capers. Honestly good though. Then, grilled octopus with sweet potato puree. That one was very well executed. To drink: two piña coladas, a rum and coke, and a coffee. For dessert, cheesecake with mint. Everything tasted great, no complaints on flavor or service.

The one complaint, if any, is the usual for these places: small portions. Not stingy, but small for what they charge. The bill came to 200 euros plus tip. Two hundred euros. For one person. And I still don't regret it, because the sunset, the music, and the atmosphere justify it. Not everything in life is measured in pure cost-benefit; sometimes you pay to be in the right place at the right moment, and that doesn't have a fixed price.

The sunset itself was everything I expected and more. Those colors over the Mediterranean, paired with a perfectly curated music selection, have something that can't quite be put into words. It's one of those things you simply have to live. The music flows without you noticing exactly when it shifts or who's playing it; you just feel that everything fits.

On the way out I stopped at the official Café del Mar store and found something I couldn't leave behind: a commemorative vinyl for their 44th anniversary. Four LPs. I'm not a compulsive collector, but some objects carry real weight, representing something beyond what they physically are. This one does. It's a piece of electronic music history in tangible format, and now it's coming back to Mexico with me.

After the store I walked the entire waterfront of San Antonio. Two hours alongside the sea, no rush, no specific destination, just walking. Ibiza at night, with the water beside you and the island's noise in the background, has an energy unlike anywhere else I've been. It's chaotic and calm at the same time, depending on which direction you look.

I ended the walk catching a cab back to the hotel, feet tired, stomach satisfied, and a four-disc vinyl under my arm. Chill day, well executed.

Tomorrow: Marco Carola at Pacha. That's a different conversation entirely.

Me at Café del Mar

Me with my Café del Mar vinyl