Ibiza

Two Ibizas have been running in parallel for about twenty years. One you've seen in the magazines — Six Senses, Nobu from the pool, beach clubs with a door policy. The other is quieter about itself: the northwest coast, the inland villages, the beaches at the end of unpaved roads. Neither is false. They coexist without acknowledging each other, which is part of what makes the island interesting. We were there in September, when the crowds had thinned enough to hear both.

Get comfortable with taxis. The hotels arrange them without fuss, which means no parking, no navigation, and no decisions about wine at dinner. The roads are narrow enough that this is a reasonable position to take, not a lazy one.

For stays: Mondrian has the water — or appears to. The beach in front is public, which is the kind of detail that only lands once you've arrived. We stayed. We wanted to love it more than we did. Soho House Ibiza we visited twice — pool, drinks, dinner — and didn't want to leave either time. Whether that constitutes a recommendation depends on your membership situation. Unlike most Soho Houses, this one requires membership to book — which is a shame, because it's genuinely one of the nicer properties on the island. If you've stayed somewhere you loved, we'd like to know.

Three dinners to book before you land: Can Domo, in the finca countryside, where we returned two nights running — the seabass in pil-pil, if it's on. Nudo at Es Figueral, where three Noma alumni turned a beach bar into something requiring a reservation: island seafood, Balearic natural wine, a kitchen more serious than it looks. La Paloma in the mountains above San Lorenzo — sit in the garden, wait for the easel, order everything on it. For lunch: Chiringuito Cala Xuclar on the north coast, where the menu is whatever arrived that morning and speaking English marks you as a visitor. The catch will exceed a kilogram. This is correct.