Petunia Ibiza

Petunia Ibiza, a lavish mid-size hamlet of a hotel, is not overrun with the flowers of its namesake, but with bougainvillea and rosemary. Every red-tiled terrace and white stucco wall, every corner and every tightly clipped lawn is flowing with the stuff in pinks and purples and greens.

Located in the semi-arid landscape of the quieter, less-trodden south-west coast, but just six minutes off the main road down to the adjacent beaches, the hotel is aesthetically and culturally Ibizan. Yet, it carries the calmer mood of an inland hotel, buried in the verdant hillsides and is a glorious lens into the ever-growing, alt-scenes of the island. Unusually: dogs are allowed, as are children, and surprisingly, everything is fine whenever the twain meet.

Laid out crescent-moon-style around an ample pool with vast Saint-Tropez-style loungers in mustard stripes, the hotel has 42 rooms and suites, which vary according to location, and how many you have staying. There are suites and mini-villas on two floors, but they all have the same incredible view — in full, sublime, stark and awe-inspiring sight of Es Vedrà, an extraordinary 400-metre-high uninhabited rock formation out at sea, which is thought to be home to nymphs and sirens. It’s one of the places on the island where a glorious sunset is almost guaranteed. On that: do pop down to Cala Carbó, a 15-minute walk away from the hotel, and have a rosé and some grilled squid at Restaurant Balneari Cala Carbó as the sun goes down.

Our corner room, on the second floor in its own building, came with a decadent number of terraces (three, though we barely found time to use one), which meant Es Vedrà was an omnipresent third guest, a secret night-time companion we could gawp at with a glass of Monastrell. Breakfast is worth a proper mention — two full buffets of hot and cold food: still-warm bread, eggs cooked any which way, local cheese, handmade cakes, proper coffee.

The hotel was recently taken over by small boutique chain Beaumier, and redesigned by New York-based Studio Galeón. The idea is that the architecture works in symbiosis with the surroundings. The rooms themselves are individually designed, but each shares the pinky-white soft-cornered plaster walls that create a pleasant flow between areas. They are well stocked, with natty little coffee machines, a proper kettle, a lovely market basket you can borrow for the duration of your stay (and purchase, for 45 euros, at the end should you wish) and a clever mid-century space-saving desk with a pull-out stool — if the rooms feel a touch small, which they might, they make up for it in their design. Oh and the outdoor space…

Like most of the best things in life, it’s the details that set this place apart. The umbrellas you can borrow, the continually smiling staff, the bellboy who will gladly drive you to the local beach if you haven’t rented a car.

It’s strangely busy during our stay, a mix of Europeans and Americans and retreaters looking for early summer sun. But if never feels crowded. Yes, there is Vinyasa yoga. Yes, there are guided hikes. My only criticism is that they don’t take place every day (we sadly miss out on the extracurriculars), but then we are there in early May… But it is quiet, unfussy and relaxed. You can play draughts with your almond-milk flat white in the beautiful mahogany lounge, or like us, on a break from the children, you can pay five euros for a Coke and snooze on a lounger while the whistling breeze glides in from across the bay. Trust me, it’s worth every penny.