The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - Travel
Ibiza may not be green – but it is still glam
The return of amber status means now is the time for the double-jabbed to enjoy a laid-back escape, says Emma Featherstone
Wading into warm, clear water, a small speedboat the only manmade obstacle in view, I found the peace for which I had been pining. The soft ripple of the sea against the bay soothed my mind as I watched tiny fish crowd beneath the sun-dappled surface. I’d stashed my kayak in a nearby cove, ousting a bohemian-looking couple. Few clothes between them, long hair shrouding their faces, they clambered up the rock as I approached. Their appearance reminded me of the island’s hippy legacy, which had added to my thirst for Ibiza during lockdown.
Perhaps this craving was akin to that felt by the men and women who fled to the second smallest Balearic in the 1960s. They had fanned out from San Francisco, some landing on this offshoot of Spain, far enough from both conscription to Vietnam and the eye of Franco’s rule. In Ibiza and, later, Formentera they could live and let live.
Free love and psychedelics weren’t on my wish list. I was seeking a headturning coastline, a chance to forget pandemic-related strictures and perhaps a cocktail or few. Ibiza delivered.
Temperatures were pushing 33C (92F), so life could be enjoyed outdoors. Meanwhile, dance floors were still firmly shut. Face mask rules remained for indoor public spaces, including restaurants, hotels and shops. The island continued to follow all the protocols to limit infections. What a cruel upset, then, when Grant Shapps, the Transport Secretary, announced that the Balearic Islands would move back to the amber list on July 19. The Spanish archipelago will have had less than three weeks in the green.
Unvaccinated Britons returning to the UK from Ibiza, Menorca, Majorca or (airport-free) Formentera after this date will face up to 10 days of self-isolation. Fully vaccinated Britons (and under18s) will dodge this rule, but that’s little consolation for the young people still awaiting their second jab. It appears fears of imported infections were behind the Government’s decision: the
Balearics seven-day average case rate sat at 402 per 100,000 residents on Wednesday; the UK’s was 319.5.
Yet the islands’ health systems and hospitals are not under pressure, according to Iago Negueruela, the Balearics’ minister of tourism.
“The rise in infections is predominantly among young people, and for the vast majority there are no harmful symptoms,” he said.
Nearly four million UK travellers visited one of the four islands in 2019, and more than 66 per cent of our population has received a second vaccine dose, as of July 15. Immunised Britons will surely take advantage of the islands’ hospitality this summer. My brief trip
felt like clawing a little joy back from some 16 months of gloom.
I’d joined the traffic light game of musical chairs and timed it just right to seize a seat bound for somewhere I’d long hoped to visit. There were rules to consider, of course. Britons departing for the Balearics must show evidence of a negative Covid test, or proof of full vaccination, and complete a health control form. With the correct documents to hand, I’d breezed through check-in. Then, on arrival in Ibiza, I was asked to show the QR code from my completed form and (in keeping with post-Brexit rules), my passport was stamped.
With this assault course cleared, the holiday spirit took hold. Fellow Britons who’d made the same journey at that time – I arrived on July 2 – (some 761 flights were scheduled this month compared with 183 last July) were similarly grateful. Among them was Shiv Chande, 33, who’d travelled to join a stag do. It wasn’t his first time on the island; had it changed post-Covid? “It felt different, but not that different,” he said, as we clung on to the railings of the airport shuttle. His trip had been more expensive this time, however, thanks to “lastminute flights and [all the] tests”.
Where the clubs couldn’t yet deliver, the bars of Ibiza Town sought to entice Britons by other means: screenings of Euro 2020. As I ambled through the streets, a smattering of fans sipped on pints and watched Denmark claim victory over the Czech Republic. At an ice cream hatch, I found a British family: three young women and their mother, Melissa Treacher. She and her daughters had booked a five-week stay on the island. “I didn’t wait until it went green; I was happy to isolate when I got home,” she said. “We come here every year.”
That had included last year. The main difference since then, Melissa said, was fewer masks. The Spain-wide requirement to wear face coverings in outdoor public spaces came to an end last month. In April, a government attempt to bring the rule to Spanish beaches was thwarted by a public backlash. I could understand why residents were swift to protect their coastal spots from pandemic paraphernalia.
My favourite beach was Migjorn, in nearby Formentera. At about 3.7 miles long, the portion that caught my fancy was just behind Casa Pacha Formentera (a new restaurant and hotel from the brand behind the Ibiza nightclub).
A sweep of white sand framed an inviting stretch of sea, tinged in stripes: powder blue, turquoise, almost indigo. My tour guide, Vicky Borras (vicky.borras@hotmail.com), reminded me that the clarity of the water surrounding Formentera is, in part, due to its meadows of sea grass – or Posidonia. This living organism, some five miles long, is Unesco-listed. It’s the star of the isle; when Madonna’s yacht ventured near its turf, she was asked to move along.
At Migjorn, sunbathers read books beneath straw parasols, and young families bobbed in the water. Happy squeals and chatter wafted across to my table at Casa Pacha’s chiringuito, or
beach bar. It is, in fact, part of a slick restaurant where outdoor diners are encouraged to kick off their shoes. As I dug my toes into the sand, an occasional blue-green lizard darted past my feet; these bold little creatures gave Formentera its Greek name: Ophiussa, or “snake island”. A colourful feast – including bowls of salmon pink gazpacho and glasses of orange cava sangria – was laid out on the trestle table where I was sitting.
This was my second culinary treat of the day. Before joining the ferry to Formentera, I had made a pit stop at The Beach by Ushuaïa Ibiza for “the Unexpected Breakfast”. This sumptuous buffet includes touches such as an ice cream dispenser, your pick of champagne and a mini, rotating Ferris wheel filled with sweets. To reach the restaurant, I wandered through the hotel’s entrance. It pleads for attention.
First, I noticed its bright white tower, decorated with cutouts of flowers and Ushuaïa’s signature hummingbird. Stepping inside, its playful decor, including bronze and red sculptures – a mermaid, a scorpion, a frog, and chairs moulded into the shape of backsides – were a reminder of the island’s extravagant edge. Poolside posers had yet to return. I realised that a taste of the glamour, without the need to keep up appearances, might be just what I’d wanted from Ibiza.