FORMENTERA + HOTEL CASBAH
Formentera felt familiar to me before I’d even stepped foot off the ferry from Ibiza. I’d read about this tiny rugged island of pirates and sirens where summers sizzled, winters stormed and crops failed.
I’d read about how it became a stop on the hippie trail in the late 60s and early 70s and how despite the summer influx of mega yachts and day trippers from Ibiza, it has maintained its scrappy spirit.
We spent a week scooting across the island on our little red Vespa, mostly using the dusty dirt tracks, occasionally flying down the island’s one real highway.We traversed the jagged coastline with its crumbling lighthouses and driftwood beach shacks, sliding down cliff faces in our flip flops to reach glittering coves. We explored forests of juniper and pine on foot, and spent memorable evenings playing cards at a packed pizza joint in Sant Ferran, one of the islands six white washed villages.
I’m glad we went in spring. The mornings were cool, the days were warm and the coves were quiet. It was both familiar and surprising, and like a great old song it left me nostalgic for a time I didn’t even know.
Shot on digital and film.
