Ibiza has it’s very own barometer of accommodation standards, where living in a shack, a cave or a tree are nothing out of the ordinary. The island is so intoxicating that you would gladly sacrifice urban comforts to bask in her bewitching beauty.
When I met Javier for the first time in early March, at a café in Vara de Rey, he had the air of the boho aristo; handsome, debonair, well-travelled and loafer clad. A talented creative from Uruguay, having lived in Paris for five years and in Ibiza for another five, Javier had recently decided to move to the ultimate island idyll – Formentera.
He showed me a photo of his villa on Formentera and invited me to visit him. For some strange reason, I had a lot of resistance to this idea. From a coffee date to travelling to another island seemed too much of a crescendo, better to try to meet for dinner in Ibiza first before jumping on a boat! Taking the boat from Ibiza to Formentera is arguably just as easy as taking the bus from Oxford Cirus to Primrose Hill but it somehow felt like a much greater leap of faith.
The idea of Formentera out of season seemed too desolate. It made me feel vulnerable somehow. He repeatedly asked me but I kept politely declining and couldn’t understand why I wasn’t more interested. We tried to meet several times in high summer but we were both either too busy or on the wrong island. Finally, in September, I was visiting Formentera with a gal pal so I decided to look him up.
Image from Pinteret
