Back in 2008, I used to think Ibiza was a magical island, like all the rest of the newcomers.
The magic lay in the light, the sunsets, the special people; the freaks, the artists, the internationals, the musicians. The leftover hippies in San Juan. The fincas, the restaurants with fig trees and fairy-lights, the naked freedom on Bennirás beach. The sound of the donkeys in the valleys of Portinatx, the post-office/bar/shop/meeting-place at the T-junction in the middle of nowhere.
I was drawn to the spirituality. The people talking about the full moon, the stories of the real hippies, he ayahuasca ceremonies for 24 hours in a dome on a really high mountain, almost impossible for the cars to get to. The glistening in the eyes of someone who lived in a caravan or a cave, their connection to the land, to the rocks, to the sea. The magic of a hard-to-reach enlightenment. I was sold. Taken away. Completely starry-eyed.
Then, around 2020, something happened. To me, to the world, to Ibiza.
Ibiza became gentrified; spirituality became something practiced by every other English retiree to the sun, everyone micro-dosed magic mushrooms, absolutely everyone and his uncle became a spiritual coach and HAD TO SHOW everyone on and off social media that they had a trillion crystals, used sage and incense, pulled cards, wore indoor hats and ponchos, and oh, they are also a witch who practiced reiki and breathwork and drank cacao, and somehow, the real deal got silenced. The real magic was lost.
I withdrew from spirituality because it became shallow. I also withdrew because I noticed that many of my spiritual clients didn’t have the means to pay their invoices, because they were “manifesting the money” that never seemed to arrive. And of course; if I was spending time in spiritual circles, my clients would also be spiritual. So, the magic lay in stepping out, and reconnecting with who I am, what I’m good at, and what lights me up. I now work with hotels, restaurants, authors, photographers, stylists, psychologists and health influencers; all with a very stable foundation, with a real mission and message, grounded in reality, not a dream.
I’ve rebuilt my relationship with myself and with Ibiza. I’ve now built and created a whole new me, based on what I always wanted to do: write, document, take photos. Go deep. Into the culture, into the history, into the context, into the moment, into someone’s mission and dream and help them translate it to a digital reality.
I’ve been lucky and unlucky enough to have had both my kids in a very local village school, so I’ve been immersed in Ibicenco culture now for almost ten years via their peers and their families. I’ve heard what they think of the spiritual crowd who claim to “know the energy” of the island they were born on, and it’s really funny to think these two cultural groups actually co-exist but never ever meet and talk. They have completely different understandings of what this island is, what it means, who it belongs to.
Truth is that many people throughout history have claimed to know, belong, and own this island. Ibiza was first settled by the Phoenicians around 654 BC, who founded the port of Ibossim and dedicated it to the god Bès, protector of music and dance. Later came the Carthaginians, who made the island an important trading post in the Mediterranean. Then the Romans arrived in 123 BC, calling it Ebusus, followed by the Vandals and the Byzantines, each leaving behind traces of their rule. In 902 AD, the Moors conquered Ibiza, introducing new agricultural systems, architecture, and language influences that still echo in Ibicenco today. Finally, in 1235, the island was taken by the Catalans under King James I of Aragon, who integrated it into the Crown of Aragon, marking the start of the Ibiza we know today.
During the years of getting to know Ibiza beyond the spiritual hippie magic, I’ve started discovering her REAL magic, beyond the myths and the stories that the spiritual people have given the island. I’ve discovered some incredible places, hidden in plain sight, that I love to take photos of and do photo shoots in.
D’alt Vila holds a trillion stories in her magical 2,500-year-old streets. And Sa Penya is a treasure trove of stories, crime, love and passion. Pictured is Puig de Missa, an incredible spot: the church-fortress above Santa Eulària dating from the 16th century, built as a refuge from pirate raids. Every village church has walls thicker than the average building and whispers stories of love, death, suffering and passion. The centre of Sant Antoni de Portmany is often missed or ignored, but it has some incredible historical buildings with pure magic hidden in plain sight. The centre of Sant Jordi de ses Salines is like a fairy-tale world with its fortified church (originally built before 1577 for salt-pond workers) and a charming plethora of old buildings.
I sit and write this from the library in Eivissa, in the cultural building called Can Ventosa (turning 100 years old this year) and I work from here most days a week, and have done so since 2020, when I stopped going to cafés aimed towards foreigners. Another magical place is the Cine Regio in Sant Antoni de Portmany, As an Ibiza photographer, I’m endlessly inspired by this cinema, because stepping inside feels like travelling back in time. Its retro red-velvet curtains, warm amber lights, and polished wooden details preserve the charm of a classic 1970s cinema, lovingly maintained by the same family who built it, and it’s a true living snapshot of Ibiza’s cultural past.
There’s so much more to this island than what first meets the eye. Most visitors see what they want to see, through their own narrow lens, and they miss the real magic.
Like taking the bus, for example. Few ever experience that world; a microcosm of Ibiza hidden in plain sight. Inside, teenagers wait for hours just to feel the freedom of not having to ask their parents for a ride. Immigrants travel to and from long, exhausting jobs, often standing with heavy bags and tired eyes. The older generation, no longer driving, sits quietly by the window, watching the island change with each passing season. For a moment, all of them share the same small space… three worlds, three rhythms of life that overlap in silence or conversation. It’s both heartwarming and, at times, quietly heartbreaking.
I suppose, at first, I was drawn to Ibiza for the myths and because it looked so visually stunning. Then my children were born here, and through them being “locals” – yes, if you ask them where they’re from, they’ll simply say “Ibiza” – I was given a kind of golden ticket. A way in. Beneath the surface, into the depth and the everyday reality that so many visitors and guiris completely miss out on.
With love from my children’s island,
Linda
April Studios
PS. The name April Studios is deeply connected to both Ibiza and my children as well as their grandmother. More on that another time!
