Every single time our ship anchors off Ibiza Town and the medieval walls of Dalt Vila glow golden in the sunrise, I'm struck by an almost disorienting contrast: this island that the world knows for bass drops and confetti cannons has been welcoming sailors for more than 2,600 years. The Phoenicians founded their settlement of Ibossim here around 654 BCE, and when I walk those same harbor stones at dawn, I feel the weight of every century that came before the DJ booths.

The tender drops us right in the heart of the marina, and I always head straight up the cobblestone ramps into Dalt Vila while the day is still quiet. These Renaissance walls earned UNESCO World Heritage status in 1999 under the designation "Ibiza, Biodiversity and Culture" — recognition that this place is far more than its evening entertainment reputation. Inside the fortified upper town, the winding streets lead to breathtaking views over the harbor and the hazy silhouette of Formentera in the distance. The cathedral crowns the summit, and the ramparts offer vistas that have anchored themselves in my memory as firmly as any sunset I've ever witnessed.

But it's the Puig des Molins necropolis, just outside the old town walls, that stops me in my tracks every time. This hillside cemetery contains thousands of Phoenician and Carthaginian tombs — the best-preserved ancient burial ground in the entire Mediterranean. Walking among those ancient chambers, I'm reminded that Ibiza's relationship with transformation and transcendence didn't begin in the 1960s. People have been seeking something timeless here for millennia.

After the ancient layers, I always make the 30-minute ferry crossing to Formentera, the smallest of the main Balearic Islands. Ses Illetes beach is where the Balearic magic reveals itself most clearly: turquoise water so transparent you can see the sandy bottom ten feet down as if through glass. The island maintains a relaxed, almost sacred quietness that feels intentional — a deliberate counterpoint to Ibiza's energy.

Back on Ibiza, I time my afternoon to catch sunset from Cala Conta, where the view frames Es Vedrà — that dramatic, uninhabited rocky island rising 400 meters from the sea off the southwest coast. Shrouded in myths and legends, Es Vedrà has a magnetic presence that draws the eye like a pilgrimage site. As the sun drops behind its silhouette, the entire sky ignites, and I understand why ancient sailors believed this place was touched by the gods.

For those drawn to the legendary club scene (and yes, it truly is legendary), pre-booking tables at Ushuaïa or Hï for the daytime pool parties delivers exactly the spectacle you'd expect — Calvin Harris, David Guetta, confetti cannons, and an energy that feels genuinely life-changing. But I've come to love the quieter Ibiza just as much: the Saturday hippy markets at Las Dalias, a simple lunch of bullit de peix (fish stew) at a beach chiringuito, or a yacht cruise to hidden coves where the water is so clear you forget you're floating.

Ibiza isn't just an island — it's a palimpsest, layer upon layer of human longing written on white stone and turquoise water. You can dance until dawn or walk among ancient tombs, and somehow both feel like worship.