Excerpt from "Ibiza Nights"

They were going to miss their flight.

“All passengers for flight IB 64 destination Barcelona please proceed to gate B16.” The monotonous, artificial sounding voice spoke of the airport loudspeakers in sharp contrast to Aviva’s frantic sprint to the Iberia counter. Ze’ev followed at a much more leisurely pace, several feet behind her. An amused smile played on his lips as he watched his wife tapping her foot with in impatience as she waited for the flight attendant to give her their boarding passes.

“I can’t believe this. I told you we should have left earlier. We still have the security check to go through,” Aviva said when she saw Ze’ev beside her.

“Don’t worry, they’ll hold the plane if they have to,” Ze’ev answered.

Aviva didn’t look convinced but refrained from making any further comment. She always liked to get to the airport early and their current predicament did nothing to steady her nerves.

“Did you pack your own bags?” the young girl at the security checkpoint asked in a bored tone.

“Yes, yes,” Aviva answered, taking a deep breath to pull herself together as she watched the suitcases disappear into the X-ray machine.

“Did anyone give you anything to take with you?’

“No.”

The questions continued and Ze’ev put an arm around her shoulders, leading her past the young woman when she had finished. They waited for the stickers to be put on their suitcases and then picked up their hand luggage and started at a fast clip towards the boarding gate.

It was the middle of June and Ze’ev and Aviva had been married for nine months. They were on their way to Ibiza, one of the southern most Balearic Islands. Aviva had landed a job there doing some translation work for the Ministry of Tourism and Ze’ev was happy to accompany her. He and his band Enfasis had just recorded their second CD and he felt he could use a break before the touring and promoting started in earnest. Moreover, they were going to stay with friends of his whom he hadn’t seen since they moved to Ibiza three years previously.

When they reached gate B16 Aviva was relieved to see that people were still boarding; they had not had to make the whole plane wait for them. She smiled a little apologetically at Ze’ev, who laughed and kissed her on the mouth before letting her hand in their boarding passes.

Aviva wanted to sit by the window so Ze’ev took the middle seat, leaving the aisle seat open. Luckily the plane was not full and nobody occupied it.

After take off the flight attendants came around offering drinks, and Aviva was just sipping her orange juice when she heard a small screech from the aisle and looked up to see a teenage girl gawping at Ze’ev with her hand over her mouth. Ze’ev smiled at her.

“Are you Ze’ev Azran?” she asked finally.

Ze’ev nodded.

The girl looked dumb-struck and then hurried away without another word. She was back almost immediately with pen and paper.

“Could I have your autograph?” she asked, shoving the paper in Ze’ev’s outstretched hand.

“Who should I make to?” he asked.

“Tal, please,” the girl answered, blushing.

When she had gone Aviva smiled and said:

“You’re always so nice to those girls.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Ze’ev answered. “They buy our CDs.”

Aviva continued to smile as she regarded her husband with love written all over her face. Ze’ev returned her smile and kissed her once more.

“I’m really looking forward to seeing Tamir again,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll love him. And he’ll love you.”

“What about Ilana?” Aviva asked, referring to Tamir’s girlfriend.

“I don’t know her that well. Tamir and she started dating just before he moved to Ibiza.”

The flight was a little over four hours and Tal had obviously mentioned Ze’ev’s presence on the plane to her friends, as several more people came to gape at Ze’ev and ask for his autograph. It was amazing how popular he and his band had become in Israel in the last year. The fact that Ze’ev had been missing and believed dead for a month after they had released their first CD had not harmed their publicity any, and the band was now so successful that Ze’ev had been able to give up his job as waiter in the bar where he had worked for several years. Aviva could have given up her job, too, if she had wanted to, but she enjoyed her work and saw no need to quit.

They landed in Barcelona at 1.30pm and had to wait an hour for their connecting flight to Ibiza. That flight was only 50 minutes and Aviva felt the excitement course through her veins as they approached the island. The plane turned back on itself and approached the runway from the sea, passing over the Salinas, salt lakes, to land between the soft, feminine looking hills that covered a large part of the island. Aviva had spent part of her childhood on the neighboring island, Formentera, but she had not been back since and as the plane hit the runway she was overcome by memories.

Tamir and Ilana were waiting for Ze’ev and Aviva when they appeared in the arrivals lounge. Tamir and Ze’ev embraced and then took care of the introductions. Aviva saw a dark-haired couple, similair in height; both with friendly faces she felt would immediately become familiar to her. Tamir saw his friend Ze’ev, dark of hair and complexion, radiating happiness and good health, and his wife, a striking contrast with pale skin and blonde hair, a good five inches shorter than he. She too, looked very content.

“It looks like married life is agreeing with the both of you,” Tamir said with a broad smile. “And I hear that you are becoming quite famous in ha’aretz, Ze’ev. Mazel tov.”

Ze’ev shrugged modestly and picked up Aviva’s suitcase. Tamir took Ze’ev’s and they headed outside into the bright sunshine.

“Like I told you on the phone,” Tamir said when they were ensconced the back seat of his convertible. “We don’t live in Ibiza city, although we both work there. We live in a village called Cala d’Hort, about twenty-five minutes from here and about twenty minutes from the city. It’s beautiful.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Ze’ev said.

“Our view is out of this world,” Ilana added. “We look right onto Es Vedra, a rocky island nearly 400m tall, super rich in metals and minerals and believed therefore to be one of the most magnetic spots on earth.”

“Wow,” Ze’ev sounded impressed. “Do you know of this rock, Aviva?”

Aviva nodded. She was a little overcome by the emotion of being back in her childhood haunting grounds.

“We had a beautiful view of it on Formentera, too,” she said.

“You know Formentera?” Ilana said, sounding surprised.

“I used to live there when I was a child,” Aviva explained.

“You’re kidding!” Ilana couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“She’s not,” Ze’ev laughed. “That’s where she originally learnt Spanish.”

Aviva gazed out of the window, taking in the rolling hills and arid fields full of goats, sheep, vines and olive trees. So much of the landscape reminded her of Israel, and but Ibiza seemed somehow softer, friendlier, and yet with a certain untamed feeling about it. The Carthaginians, the first people to inhabit the island, had done so in 654 B.C.E. and had called Ibiza and Formentera the Pituisas, “the pine-covered ones”. It was a name still in use with the locals, and still pertinent to the enormous amount of pines and sabinas that grew on the islands.

After following a long, meandering unpaved driveway, Tamir pulled up outside a truly gorgeous villa. As they climbed out of the car Ze’ev and Aviva took in the white plaster farmhouse with the large porch covered in red geraniums, and the spectacular view. The rock that Ilana had mentioned, Es Vedra, had an undoubtedly magical quality to it and for a moment nobody spoke.

“If you like we could go for a swim. The beach is not far,” Tamir suggested. “Unless you’re tired and would like to rest.”

Aviva and Ze’ev looked at each other, and then Ze’ev said:

“We would love to swim.”

After they had deposited their suitcases and bags in what was to be their room for the next few months, a cool, sparsely furnished one, Ze’ev and Aviva unpacked their swimming gear. They changed and went out to meet their friends on the shaded terrace.

The four of they clambered back in the car and Tamir drove them over dusty roads to the beach at Cala d’Hort.

“There is a way to get there by foot,” Tamir explained. “But I thought it was a little hot for that."

The beach was a fairly small one, and being the end of the afternoon, was not too crowded.

Ze’ev was the first one in the water, leaving Aviva to spread their towels and take off the shorts and t-shirt which she had put on over her bikini. Then she ran into the water and joined Ze’ev, who embraced her under the water as soon as she was close to him.

“This is wonderful,” he said in her ear.

She murmured her agreement, not knowing then that their idyll was going to be shattered very soon.

Aviva clung to Ze’ev’s wet shoulders and let him whirl her around in the warm sea, closing her eyes and losing herself in the sensation of being in a place she loved with the man she adored.

Tamir and Ilana kept their distance and let Ze’ev and Aviva enjoy their moment in private. When they all left the water together they flopped down on their towels and sighed with contentment.

“Ilana and I have to work tonight,” Tamir said when he had caught his breath. “It’s up to you whether you want to join us or whether you’d rather stay home.”

Tamir and Ilana both worked in a well-known night club in Ibiza city, Pacha. Ilana was a waitress, Tamir the manager.

“What would you like to do, Aviva?” Ze’ev asked.

“I think it would be fun to go," Aviva answered. "We’ll have to rent a car, though, so we’re not reliant on Tamir and Ilana for a ride.”

“Good idea. We’ll need a car anyway.”

They lay for a while soaking up the sun and then Aviva and Ze’ev entered the soft rolling waves of the Mediterranean again. The water was like a warm embrace and once again they spent most of their time with their arms around each other. Being in such a beautiful place made them both feel like they were on their honeymoon. In a way they were, as they had never had a real one, only a few days in the Sinai after they had tied the knot.

When they got back to the house Tamir and Ilana announced that with Ze’ev and Aviva’s permission, they were going to take their customary afternoon nap so they would be fresh for the night ahead. Aviva and Ze’ev themselves were happy to take the opportunity to take a nap themselves. The flight and the swim had made them feel pretty sleepy. When they got to their room they undressed and slipped between the sheets, the salt on their bodies gritty against their skin but not unpleasant. In true honeymoon style they made quiet love in the fading afternoon, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

They were woken up an hour later by a soft knock on the door. Ilana poked her head in the room and asked if they were awake. Ze’ev murmured a sleepy reply.

“It’s time to get up. We’ll eat something and then go to get your rental car.”

Ze’ev sat up and stretched, then leaned over to kiss Aviva.

“Come on, my sweet. Enough sleep,” he said.

Aviva sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“It’s almost seven-thirty.”

Tamir and Ilana were out on the terrace again, this time with a table spread with food: sandia, watermelon; goat’s cheese, olives, figs and coca, a local type of pizza-like bread.

They ate and drank a local, very fruity wine and then drove to Ibiza, accompanied by a sunset on the horizon which cast pink and red shadows on the treetops. Tamir and Ilana dropped Ze’ev and Aviva off at a rent-a car place near the port and gave Aviva, who was still familiar with the lay of the land, directions to Pacha.

Aviva had had the presence of mind to obtain an international driver’s license, so she was the one to rent the car, a sporty, aptly named Seat Ibiza.

She drove through the narrow streets to the outskirts of the city and parked in front of the discotheque half an hour after Tamir had dropped them off. Inside their eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness but soon they could see the almost empty room, punctuated by spotlights of various colors. They made their way over to the bar and were greeted by Ilana, who was emptying a crate full of clean glasses onto a shelf behind the bar. As they took their seats on the barstools a voice said:

“Ze’ev? Ze’ev Azran?”

Ze’ev turned to see a person with a familiar face standing behind him.

“Yanai?” he said, sounding very surprised. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Ze’ev got up and they embraced briefly.

“I could say the same to you!” Yanai said.

“This is Aviva, my wife,” Ze’ev said, gesturing towards Aviva.

Yanai’s expression of surprise did not change.

“You got married?” he shook Aviva’s hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Aviva answered.

“Don’t sound so shocked, Yanai,” Ze’ev said, laughing.

Yanai laughed too and took a seat beside Ze’ev.

“I’m sorry. I guess it’s been a while. I have been living here for almost a year with my Spanish girlfriend, Pilar.”

“Wonderful. Is she here?” Ze’ev asked.

“No, she has to work tonight.”

Yanai ordered a drink and Ze’ev and he continued to catch up on each other’s news. Aviva surveyed the club, which was still fairly empty although people were starting to trickle in.