Benirrás Beach: elements

It’s late afternoon when we sail into Cala Bennirás—a lovely cove off the coast of Ibiza. The clear water is varying shades of blue and we glide past a large rock that juts out from the sea. It appears to be a massive stone hand with its index finger pointing to the sky; unsurprisingly, it’s known locally as “the finger of God”. We secure our catamaran to a mooring ball in a crowded harbor. The sailboats look magnificent against the stony Mediterranean backdrop. The water is exceptionally transparent and there are no waves. We dive into its coolness and we are floating in an enormous natural swimming pool surrounded by white sand and piney hills. The clear, calm waters and rocky seabed offer superb snorkeling. I lounge on a giant inflatable rose-gold flamingo, soaking in the magic of the Balearic Sea and of this island.

Eventually we kayak to shore. The stony beach is covered with a patch-work of colorful blankets and towels. Beautiful bronzed bodies with little to no raiment adorn the shoreline. Just past the beach there are a few restaurants and an open-air “hippy” market with an eclectic array of wares from around the world, some crafted by local Ibizan artisans. We wander through the aisles admiring vibrant jewelry, pom-pom tasseled sandals, tie-dyed t-shirts, flowy peasant blouses, and hand engraved leather goods. We enjoy a lovely meal at Elements on a wooden deck that opens to the sea. There is live music, a cool breeze, and an easy vibe. The Spanish staff are gorgeous, young, and lean. They are dressed all in white—in varying styles. Their faces are embellished with glitter and intricate white-painted patterns. There is a level of “coolness’ here that surpasses even our swankiest So-Cal beach bars. We eat and drink and take in the evening.

It is late—but the summer sun is still blazing. At the far end of the beach, a circle of drummers beat on a motley assortment of instruments crafted of leather, wood, hemp, and beaded shells. There are close to fifty drummers, mostly male, and there is an abundance of dreadlocks, tribal tattoos, piercings, and gages. Some flaunt tight swim briefs and loincloths; others are garbed in loose fitting earth-toned textiles. They are young and old, brown and white, muscled and soft. They are a tribe-- unified in their interwoven rhythms. A mass of people swarm around the drummers. The smell of cannibus hangs heavy in the air. A handful of women dance to the hypnotic tones in the center of the hive. Their dance is beautiful--sensual. Onlookers are magnetized by the tribal rhythms and intoxicated by the freedom—the aliveness. I am enthralled with this magnificent tapestry of humans coming together to celebrate nature, beauty, and connection.

People from all over the world, of all colors, ages, creeds and backgrounds. Together. Connected by the drums. Witnessing the setting of the sun. As it dips below the horizon, the drumming, dancing and cheering intensifies. The luminous orb sinks and we are bathed in a soft red-orange glow.

This dedicated collective of drummers turn up faithfully every Sunday to drum together on Benniras Beach—fiercely, passionately, and inclusively, as the sun sinks into the sea. Joined by travelers from all over the world to pay homage to the day and the arrival of night.

Through the window of sunset.

In honor of the sacred elements: earth, air, fire, and water.

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