ME and IBIZA

ME and IBIZAIsland Es Vedrà, magnetic force.....Ibiza is an amazingly beautiful island


Well of course I was born here, so that should explain my feelings at least in part.
I nevertheless like to think my decision to remain on the island, rather than go off live somewhere else, is an objective one.

I started reading books at a very early age: my parents had a book and stationery shop.
I read of the snows of Canada, and of the jungles of Africa, and of Asia’s exoticism.
I was sure I’d be heading somewhere fabulous as soon as I grew up.

In the end I left and had my time off the island.
One year in America plus two on mainland Spain.
I then came back, aged 22, to have a short rest and consider my next move.
It was then, I feel, that my roots really began to dig into the island’s soil.
The longer I stayed, the cozier it felt.
I’ve often asked myself why it was so.

Perhaps it is because Ibiza is a kind of microcosm with a bit of everything, where nothing is overwhelmingly, spectacularly, beautiful, and nothing is terribly ugly, and where everything seems made to the measure of man: the fruit trees look just the right size to be picked, the hills are exactly right for a leisurely climb, and the distances are always manageable, no matter where you go.

Or maybe it is the magnetic force of the rock of Es Vedrà, the staggering masculinity of the Mediterranean cathedral, off the southwest coast, in secret alliance with the feminine serenity of Tagomago island, off the northeast, to watch over the main island, by sending some kind of protective waves across to each other to keep its fields beautiful and fruitful and its pine forests thick and healthy.

Or is it just ancient Dalt Vila, where each stone reeks of millennia of life, and of death.
Where on grey windy days I could swear you hear voices, moans and laughter from the past, coming from shady nooks, or from behind thick, cold, whitewashed walls.

But then on the other hand it might be its people, with their attitude to life, tolerant of newcomers, resigned at the regular invasions and skeptical of the magical formulas come from abroad.

Or simply the sound of the Mediterranean lapping at the shore, as it has always done, since time immemorial, oblivious of hunger, war, parties and capitalistic crises.

Is it really possible to pinpoint how the island gets into your soul?

Can you put your finger on what it is that makes your beloved special?

And actually, come to think of it: is it … love? Or is it deeper than that?

A feeling of which love is only a part?
Like the feelings for a mother, feelings that do not question nor look for faults: simple acceptance.

Why should I think I have a right to pass judgment anyway?

by IBIZA GUIDE: Hector Bonet

Member of the A.P.I.T.I.F 
- Association of OFFICIAL TOURIST GUIDES for Ibiza and Formentera



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A P I T I F - Asociación Profesional de Informadores Turísticos de Ibiza y Formentera - OFFICIAL TOURIST GUIDES for IBIZA & FORMENTERA

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Balearic Islands. Spain


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