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It was genuinely healing to return to Ibiza, the place where I’d nearly died | Ibiza holidays

It was genuinely healing to return to Ibiza, the place where I’d nearly died | Ibiza holidays

The thing that might surprise you about Ibiza is the quiet. Even in August, there are pockets of tranquillity all over the island. Walking along the nature trail between and behind two of its most famous beaches – Es Cavallet and Ses Salines – you hear nothing but the chirp of cicadas and the soft whisper of the Mediterranean. You will also see, if you turn away from the dunes and pinewoods, the salt pans that dominate this southern tip of the island with an almost eerie stillness, a flamingo or two standing like ornaments on the mirror-like water.

As with many parts of Ibiza – from the hilly forests of the north to the views of the rocky islet of Es Vedrà in the south – it is easy to feel like you have passed into another world. Even more so if you catch them at sunset, when the sky becomes gold and whatever clouds are around become luminous lines of orange-like furrows in some heavenly field.

Yet this was an Ibiza I never really sought to discover when I lived and worked here in the 1990s. Back then, I worked for the largest club night on the island, Manumission at the colossal Privilege club. The late 90s are now considered to have been Ibiza’s wildest decade, an era when superclubs such as Pacha, Space and Amnesia still had their magic and were run by a pretty chaotic band of entrepreneurial club promoters, rather than the slick brand managers who handle things today.

Ibiza Town was declared a world heritage site in 1999. Photograph: Jorg Greuel/Getty Images

This was when San Antonio’s Café del Mar was not only a place to sip beer while watching the sunset but also had its own series of best-selling compilation albums that almost single-handedly popularised the concept of “chillout music”.

It was the era of Sky TV’s messy documentary series Ibiza Uncovered, of sensationalist tabloid stories about Radio 1 DJs and pop stars going missing after wild benders. Ibiza hadn’t yet scrubbed up its reputation. The images of agroturismos, yoga retreats and luxury holidays had yet to take hold in the imagination of the British public.

During this time I sold tickets at bars in San Antonio and Ibiza Town. I was a lost and insecure young person, fresh from overthinking my way through a master’s degree I’d only taken to delay joining the real world. I was increasingly dependent on alcohol and drugs until, in 1999, I…

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