We’ve only just begun to sketch out the outline of our August holiday (did you know that in French we have charming words for this, aoûtiens for those who holiday in August, juilletistes for those in July?). And as I was thinking it over, almost without meaning to, I found myself setting an intention for the summer. Not a destination, not even a plan exactly, but a wish. If I could name just one desire for this season, it would be this: to seek out what I like to call authentic Mediterranean magic.
If you’ve ever travelled through the South of France, in Provence, along the Côte d’Azur, or perhaps through the Balearics, the Amalfi Coast, the Cinque Terre, or the Greek islands, you may already know the less idyllic side of these beloved places. The traffic jams that stretch on endlessly. The packed beaches. The long queues and the constant hum of noise in villages that once felt hushed and suspended in time. Some places, made famous (or should we say oversaturated?) by social media, seem to become postcards of themselves, emptied of locals, and with them, the spirit that made them beautiful in the first place.
And yet, I remain, always, an optimist. I believe there’s another way to experience the Mediterranean. A quieter, more reverent way. One that brings us back to what feels true: the scent of sun-warmed pine, of dry earth and olive groves; the rustle of the mistral through the trees; the hum of cicadas under the heat. A palette of natural, vibrant color: the deep blue of the sky, the terracotta soil, the wild pinks and oranges of bougainvillea, oleander, and hibiscus. And the flavours… to me, Mediterranean cuisine is simply the most exquisite in the world.
It was exactly this kind of experience we had last year during our summer on the island of Ibiza, which I shared with you here. Because yes, even in the most tourist-swept places, that Mediterranean magic still exists: intact, waiting to be found by those willing to step just a little off the beaten path.
This year, we’re planning a return to Mallorca (our third time), right in the thick of August, when half of Europe (and perhaps three-quarters of France) flocks to the sun. And so, as we begin preparing for the trip, I thought: why not share a little guide? Nothing definitive, of course. Just a personal reflection; light-hearted, humble, and written with a wink. A kind of essay, really, for anyone dreaming of finding that authentic Mediterranean magic this summer, wherever the wind may carry you :).
Notes on Slow Travel, Local Secrets & the Art of Doing Less
If you’re thinking of heading to the South of France this summer, may I offer a suggestion :)? Choose the inland parts of Provence over the star-studded villages of the Côte d’Azur. It’s a little anti–Saint-Tropez, and that’s precisely the charm.
And above all, if I may share one friendly piece of advice: leave Instagram and TikTok behind. The places that flood your feed on repeat will likely be crowded, overpriced, overrated, and truthfully, often a little disappointing in person. Instead? Do as we once did. Pick up an old-fashioned Guide du Routard, a pocket-sized book about the region, or dig into a few well-kept blogs (I hope this one makes the list). Even Reddit, oddly enough, can be a treasure trove.
More importantly: ask the locals. The hotel staff, your Airbnb host, the barista at the morning café… That’s how we once discovered one of our favourite addresses in Mykonos: Nikolas Taverna. A humble little place, tables in the sand, where we returned again and again. No algorithm would have pointed us there.
And whatever you do, leave your FOMO at home. That creeping fear of missing out, of not seeing enough, of not ticking off all the “musts.” There’s no single right way to experience a place. Sometimes I wonder if we do things for ourselves… or simply so we can say we’ve done them.
Learn how to do nothing. And delight in it. Spend long, golden hours beneath a fig tree, listening to cicadas, thinking of nothing in particular… It’s a perfectly acceptable holiday plan. Dolce far niente, as they say. And no, it’s not an empty phrase, it’s a philosophy :).
When choosing where to eat, here’s a simple reflex: look at the menu. If it’s translated into six languages and offers everything from sushi to crêpes, tread carefully. The shorter the list, the more likely the food is homemade. And do taste the local flavours, a glass of regional wine, grilled fish, a peppery olive oil… Sometimes the journey begins on your plate.
And why not bring along a travel scent? A fresh eau de toilette, a sun-warmed body oil, a citrus cologne… something you wear every day. When you return home, just a drop will bring everything back: the light, the sea, the salt on your skin. A memory captured in scent, far more vivid than a photograph.
When it comes to lodging, if you can, stay a little outside the city. In the Balearic Islands, for instance, look for fincas or rural hotels. Often calmer, sometimes less expensive, and always more rooted in the spirit of place.
And if you’re feeling adventurous, rent a car, or better yet, a Vespa. That’s how we stumbled upon Las Puertas del Cielo in Ibiza last summer: a hidden spot at the end of a pine-lined path, where we had lunch on the edge of a cliff, nearly alone. That, to me, is true luxury.
As much as possible, avoid all-inclusive resorts or full-board hotels that tempt you to stay within their walls. There’s so much waiting beyond, to see, to feel, to explore. Places where life still feels uncurated.
And if I may leave you with one last thought: pack a notebook. Just something small. Write down a phrase, a colour, a scent, a word overheard. Even one line a day. That little notebook will become a souvenir more intimate, and more lasting, than any photo album.
So, wherever you choose to travel this summer, I hope these few reflections might offer a new way of looking at your holiday, a gentler rhythm, a different perspective, perhaps a new kind of joy. Because as you’ve likely sensed by now, that elusive Mediterranean magic can’t be found on any map. It lives instead in the way we move through a place, in how we choose to travel, to notice, to let go. It’s not so much about where we go, but how we go.
As for me, I’ll be setting off once again in search of that authentic Mediterranean magic I’m always drawn to… and if I’m lucky enough to find a little of it, I hope to bring it back to you, in a future blog post, or perhaps, in a letter. Because that’s the true magic of travel, isn’t it? You never quite know what you’ll bring back with you :).
Bon voyage mes ami.e.s!
