Yesterday we took a ferry from Ibiza to another small island called Formentera.

It’s only about a 30-45 minute ferry ride across, and is apparently a must-do for those visiting Ibiza. I only just learned about it in the morning when Jo made the suggestion. We have just a few more days here in Spain so I thought well if not now then when. We have been considering doing some diving but each day we miss the timeframe to call and put it off until tomorrow.  So with this we decided to get ready straight away and head into town, as it seemed there was a ferry every half hour up until midnight. That would give us plenty of time to see the island and get back.

We headed out shortly after midday, and made it into town with enough time to have some very good fried potato slices (not fries, but better). This was mainly because I made the mistake of trying to fish something out of my bag while he was driving out of the house and it gave me motion sickness for the rest of the drive. I thought having something salty would help, because the last thing I wanted was to be on a boat already nauseous, and it did. We placed a second order because they were so fresh and tasty and once we finished them we headed to the ferry, which was just across the street.

The boat ride gave us good views, as expected, and it wasn’t long before we arrived at the port at Formentera. Once we disembarked, we walked toward where we saw a bus and Jo immediately pulled out his phone to check where it would take us. I looked to my left and saw a scooter rental and thought actually, why not just rent a scooter? (Me, who’s very much terrified of riding on them. I figured I must be pretty comfortable with his driving to even think of it). That way, we could see the whole island and it probably wouldn’t be much money. He agreed to check it out, despite not wanting to spend the money. So we walked over to the counter to inquire. When we got there, we found 50 Euros on the counter. He slid it underneath his hand while we waited for the woman to tell us the price.

Less than 50.

It was decided. We would rent a scooter.

We walked away happily thinking wow it must be a sign and headed toward the place where we would retrieve it. We passed by a few nice stores, one where I vowed to return later to get a present for my father. We got the bike with no hassle and off we went to see the island.

Not more than 15 minutes later, trying to make a right turn up a sandy hill, we fell.

This, in retrospect, made me realise that I always look to the left while I’m on the back of a motorbike, because I didn’t even notice we were falling until I looked in front of me and saw Jo on the floor, still holding the bike handles. Even now, I feel confused as to what happened and how I manage to completely miss it. But I did. The next thing I remember is getting up hastily to check if he was ok. I didn’t notice or feel anything myself, only worry about whether he was ok. It was the same for him. He panicked when he saw blood on my teeth. And I felt his horror and concern oozing off in drones. I found on him some scrapes, little by little, and he found on me the same. The blood in my mouth was just from hitting my upper lip with my bottom teeth. And again, I didn’t notice. It wasn’t until we got to the pharmacy and I came off to walk inside that I really started feeling any pain. I guess before that it was all adrenaline.

Still, my scrapes aren’t as bad as they were when I got my Phuket tattoo. I still have PTSD thinking about how un-gently the woman in the hospital cleaned it, without warning, and how I hollered out in pain as a result. I foresaw that coming again this time and it wasn’t a happy thought. But I was more concerned about Jo because not only did he have more scrapes than me, but I could also see that he was terribly disappointed in himself and felt absolutely awful about my injuries.

I kept reassuring him that it was ok and I was ok and that I know it was an accident. But the fact that he’s been riding motorbikes since he was 15 and has never once had an accident meant he took it extra hard that the first time would be with me. (He’s even driven his Vespa from Italy to the UK).

Nonetheless, we found all the supplies we needed to clean and bandage ourselves, and found an inconspicuous place nearby to sit and do it. As expected, the burn was all too much for me to handle. Meanwhile, he showed absolutely no reaction when I attended to his wounds. It’s hard to tell how much it actually hurt him, but for sure his forearm is going to be entirely bruised tomorrow. Somehow, I only managed the road rash on my knee — and a few very minor scrapes on my elbow, ankle, and hip. We cleaned up and bandaged as needed and then got back on the bike to begin our tour. Me, of course, extra weary now on the back, and him utterly disappointed and taking it very slowly.

It didn’t stop us from doing as we planned, but he was extra cautious now that he noticed the bike wheels didn’t grip well around corners.

We eventually made it to a little cove called Cala en Baster which was absolutely gorgeous, but we had to enter by going down the cliffs. I took my time going down and we picked a cute spot under some rocks to set up our things. After we placed the beach blanket down and got ready to sit and have our lunch, Jo looked up and saw that there was a writing on the side of the rock made just for us—the initials J and M were carved with a heart. For a moment I thought, wow. Was this destiny? All things leading here, to this moment and this space? Maybe the accident wasn’t in fact immediate karma for taking the money we found. Maybe everything went as it was supposed to go from the moment we decided to take that ferry.

It was a beautiful place. And if not for my injuries I’d have happily enjoyed swimming.

Some would say it was all coincidence. Others, that everything that happened leading up to that moment was destined, so we’d end up right there. Perhaps we’d have picked a different spot to settle if I wasn’t hobbling on one good leg. Or maybe if we hadn’t set up at that moment, some other group of people would have come and taken that nice cosy space in the shade.

Who’s to say? But I’d like to think there is a such thing as destiny. And even though maybe we could’ve avoided the accident, somehow we ended up exactly where we were meant to be. At exactly the right time.

What do you think?