Villa Patricia is a piece of Formentera of almost 3 hectares located in the heart of the island and containing a 586 m2 house with swimming pool, guest pavilion, gardens, vineyards, fruit trees, and even a forest. A place to belong and to experience what it means to become a true islander.
We’ve bought a house on a small island in the Mediterranean. You have to island-hop to get there, but that makes it even more special. On the bow of the sailboat from Ibiza, the wind pushes me towards Formentera, towards a new future. I set foot on the dock, aware that the moment is significant. As we head to our new home in the heart of the island, magical white sandy beaches and bright sea views assault our senses, and finally Villa Patricia appears, we’ve arrived. We contemplate our house, standing in perfect harmony with its 3 hectares of sublime gardens, orchards, vineyards and, what’s more, with its very own pine forest.
Everyone applauds our decision, but I feel a certain trepidation. Am I ready for island life?
I’ve realized that one doesn’t start a new life on an island, it starts one for you. Here, the coastline – sometimes rocky, sometimes marble white beaches and turquoise skies blending in the sea –lays out your limits and welcomes you to live with what’s around you. And there’s so much to find if you just stop and look.
The house and the island understand each other. Blending together, the house takes only what it needs, no more, from the world around it.
The summer gently ticks away and with every tick I have the island more and more to myself. This morning I went to Illetas for a solitary swim thinking I was doing so as a way of saying farewell to Formentera, but as I swam through the crystal-clear waters, my shadow below accompanied me along the sea floor, and kindly suggested I stay a while longer. How could I refuse my own shadow?
Today I discovered that the island’s land doesn’t top at the beach. Diving below the waves I discovered a new secret. Verdant, rolling meadows of posidonia, giving the crystal-clear sea its unique blue hue.
I owe some people an apology. If they are reading this, I’m sorry I ever doubted your words when you described Formentera to me with so much passion. As they enthused, my mind wandered to others, more farflung. Martinique, Mustique, Saint Vincent… now those are islands in the sun I said to myself. How could I have been so wrong! Here, the Mediterranean sun here has a special pull to it, making the whole island glow.
The island is a good teacher. And I strive to be its model pupil. Today it has taught me some Catalan, specifically to say ous fregits amb bogavante or rather fried eggs and lobster. It also taught me that it’s better to say this to a waiter in a restaurant in Sa Caló, because then as a reward for your pronunciation, one of the most delicious dishes ever invented magically appears in front of you. I plan to practice this sentence a lot.
The house and its land are a gentle siren song. every space, every corner sings its own mesmerizing tune. Sometimes it takes me hours to move from one place to another, as I find myself remaining motionless admiring an olive tree, or suddenly taken with imperious need to bask in the garden admiring the play of sunlight through the irregular lattice pergolas before then slipping calmly into the pool.
I went up in the middle of the night to the lighthouse at El Mola to listen to the silence. The sea in its own whispering way filled my head with stories but I can’t write them down in English because they belong to the island, and it has its own language. It’s the language of the senses, made up of soft sounds, a breeze, a salty fragrance, a twinkling flash of light. So, these stories will just have to stay gently reverberating in my mind, as if they had a life of their own.