With gin-clear waters and baby-blue skies, Formentera is as picturesque as the Bahamas. Some would dare to say it's even more charming and untouched. Among the smallest of the Balearic Islands, it can only be reached by ferry or private yacht from its big sister, Ibiza. Time seems to stop here. Imagine yourself driving a Citroën Méhari - it's perhaps green or orange.
You're wearing espadrilles made by an elderly lady from a nearby village, your beach basket is filled with essentials: sun cream, a locally made straw hat, a bag of freshly roasted almonds and a bottle of biodynamic Catalonian wine.
You chat with a dreadlocked artist who creates psychedelic pieces, taking a drag of his joint as he regales you with the details of his different painting techniques. Later, you ride on the back of a scooter with a handsome stranger who doesn't speak English, and, in the comfort of an old-school hotel, watch the Spanish drama Sex and Lucía on VCR.
When morning comes around again, you sunbathe naked in a hidden cove surrounded by nature. Below the water you can see fish passing by. As the sun makes its curtain call on the horizon, you raise a toast of hierbas, a local herbal liqueur. This is the serenity of Formentera.