The other side of Ibiza

As someone born in Ibiza, I have been marked for life.

From a very young age I watched my grandmother Cristina von Waldenfels build and run the Hostal La Torre in Cap Negret in the 1970´s. An eclectic mix of hippies, university professors, scuba divers and families from all over Europe enjoying the serene beauty of pinetree scent, salty air and gentle waves breaking at sunset.

Sometimes the peace of the small 18-room hotel was disturbed by the delay in the arrival of Toni´s potable water truck. Without water to shower or brush their teeth, guests graciously accepted Cristina's free bottle of cava to help them forgive the minor disruption. Laughter across the tables became louder as bottles were duly gobbled up and bubbles filled the night. I remember how comforting it felt as a child to watch tables merge, random adults getting acquainted and celebrating without apparent cause.

I also remember Paco. Paco el andaluz. He arrived in the morning in his mobylette, the then vehicle of choice for handymen, orange with a shiny silver fuel tank. Much to my grandmother's dismay, he never arrived before 10 am. Impeccable presence, with his green, brown and reddish square patterned shirt and a straw hat with a green feather. I always struggled to understand how he managed to be a man of all trades at the hotel and leave just as pristine as he arrived without changing clothes. One minute he would be at the top of the roof yelling that there was no toilet paper in room 17, soon after continuing his struggle with a lamp by the entrance to the terrace that had caused him problems for days. He announced often and soon after his arrival that he had to go back to San Antonio to buy a tool or other imminently needed gadget. We would see no more of him that day.

But I digress.

I have been coming back to Ibiza every year since those days. Even when holidays were ludicrously short during my trading days in New York and later in London. I needed to feel the sea and its calming presence. I always came back full of energy, a positive aura surrounding my being as I stepped off the plane and back into urban life. The sea was always there for me, especially the mediterranean. A decisive influence, a defining element in my understanding of life.

I suppose that the crucial role and positive influence of the sea in my memories, and how important they become as we get older, is what led me to start Meet the Sea in Ibiza. We started back in 2020 with a Family boat trip that took families to the Nature Reserve of sa Conillera, the island with the lighthouse that could be seen from my grandmother's hotel. Not unlike the green light pursued by Jay Gatsby, the lighthouse at sa Conillera is what I observed as a child and now watches me in every boat trip.

A few years after that first boat trip, and about 700 Family boat trips later, I felt the urge to share with students the joys of the sea. And so the first school trip was born, with the objective of sparking an interest in eager young minds for two thirds of the planet, our oceans. Paddlesurfing, snorkelling, handling an ROV or underater drone, sailing and kayaking in two 4-hour activities per day. That is what 40 young women and their teachers did for five days last May. And, during those days, I saw a lot of them become closer to the sea, more comfortable and appreciative of its beauty.

Perhaps they will come back and others will follow.