Ibiza for The Romantics: a Friday-to-Monday weekend

Climb the Renaissance walls as the ferries leave, and stay for the cathedral bells over the harbour; the ramp from the drawbridge gate is the gentle way up.

A small museum in the old armoury with the island's bohemian painters of the sixties, and a Punic house under a glass floor; entry is free.

Candlelit tables in a lane under the cathedral, lamb and a bottle of island red; ask for one of the two tables outside.

Stand on the clifftop above the uninhabited pyramid of Es Vedrà and listen to nothing; the car park fills by noon, so this is the hour.

Walk twenty minutes up to the sixteenth-century pirate watchtower and read the names scratched into the stone; the rock sits straight ahead.

Bullit de peix at the clifftop restaurant as the sun sets behind the rock; book the terrace edge weeks ahead, and order the fish for two.

The whitewashed fortress church on its hill, cypress at the door and a tiny ethnographic museum in a farmhouse; the village and the river lie below.

The Sunday drum circle that has outlasted every fashion; sit on the rocks at the north end and watch the sun drop behind Cap Bernat.

Stay after the drums for grilled fish by lantern as the beach empties; the kitchen keeps going until the last drummer packs up.

Pink pools, flamingos, and the salt church of Sant Francesc built for the salt workers; drive the causeway slowly with the windows down.

The island's first town, eighth century BC, on a red clay headland with the sea on three sides; a boardwalk loops the ruins in fifteen minutes.

Paella and cafè caleta, the island's flamed coffee with cinnamon and lemon, overlooking the cove; the airport is fifteen minutes away.