The Real Ibiza: A Conversation with Carlos, DJ-Turned-Farmer Who's Seen It All
Carlos Martinez moved to Ibiza from Madrid in 1998 to DJ at clubs that no longer exist. By 2010, he'd traded the booth for a 15-hectare organic farm near San Juan in the north of the island. He grows almonds, figs, and herbs, runs a small agritourism operation, and still plays records — but only at dinner parties for friends. We talked at his farmhouse kitchen table while his dog slept on my feet.
You were part of the club scene in the early 2000s. What's changed?
Everything and nothing. The music is still world-class — the DJs that come to Ibiza are the best in the world, and the sound systems are extraordinary. That hasn't changed.
What changed is the price and the audience. In 2001, I'd DJ at a club where entry was 15 EUR and a beer was 5 EUR. Now entry is 50-80 EUR and a beer is 12 EUR. The crowd used to be music lovers — people who came for the sound. Now it's a lot of people taking photos for social media who leave after an hour.
I'm not bitter. The clubs need to make money. The island needs tourism. But the soul shifted. The underground scene still exists — DC-10 on Mondays is still real, Circoloco is still underground — but you have to look for it.
You live in the north now. What's the north actually like?
The north is the island the tourists don't see. Pine forests, stone walls, almond orchards, empty roads. My nearest neighbor is 500 meters away. At night, it's dead silent except for owls.
San Juan village has a Sunday market that's been running since before the hippies arrived. Local cheese, organic vegetables, handmade soap. The hippie influence from the 1960s is still here — there are several old communes that evolved into organic farms. The people who came for the free love stayed for the land.
Portinatx has three connected bays with calm water — the best family swimming on the island. No beach clubs. No DJs. Just water and sand.
What do tourists get most wrong about Ibiza?
They think the whole island is San Antonio and Playa d'en Bossa. Those areas are maybe 10% of Ibiza's surface. The rest is countryside, villages, and coastline that looks like the Greek islands.
Also, they skip Dalt Vila. The UNESCO-listed fortress old town above Ibiza Town harbor is one of the best-preserved Renaissance fortifications in the Mediterranean. I've met people who spent a week in Ibiza and never climbed the hill. The cathedral at the top is 4 EUR, the view from the ramparts is free, and it's more impressive than most things that cost 50 EUR.
Where should people eat?
Not on the beach. Beach restaurants charge 30-40 EUR for a main that costs 15 EUR in an inland village.
Santa Gertrudis is the best village for eating. It's become trendy but the quality is genuinely high and the prices are reasonable for Ibiza. Farm-to-table places with local produce.
For the real deal, find El Bigotes at Cala Mastella. No sign, no menu, no reservations. A fisherman named Bigotes (Mustache) grills the fish he caught that morning. You sit at plastic tables on a concrete pier over the water. Cash only, about 15-18 EUR. You might wait 45 minutes. It will be the best meal you eat in Ibiza.
Es Vedra — is the mythology real?
I don't know if Es Vedra has magnetic anomalies or if Odysseus's sirens lived there. What I know is that the first time I watched the sun set behind that rock from the clifftop — this was 1999, I was 23, I'd just arrived on the island — I felt something I can't explain. The rock is 382 meters of limestone sticking out of the sea, and when the light hits it at sunset, it turns from white to gold to black.
The viewpoint near Torre des Savinar watchtower is a 20-minute walk from the road. Free. No infrastructure. Just you, the cliff, and the rock. It's the most Ibiza thing on the island — and it has nothing to do with clubs.
What's the one thing you'd change about modern Ibiza?
The cars. The island is 40 km long. You can bicycle from one end to the other in 3 hours. But in August, the roads are gridlocked with rental cars. The dirt roads to the calas are being destroyed by SUVs. The parking at popular beaches is a nightmare.
I'd love a system like Formentera — where the ferry discourages cars and everyone rides bikes. But that ship has sailed. If you visit, rent a car (you need one for the calas), but drive slowly. The roads are narrow. The goats have right of way.
What time of year would you tell a friend to come?
May. Or late September. The clubs are open (May has opening parties, September has closing parties). The calas are accessible. But the crowds are 40% smaller, the prices are 30% lower, and you can actually find a parking spot.
June is my personal favorite. The island is green from spring rains, the figs are starting, the jasmine is blooming, and the water is warm enough to swim. The superclub lineups are building but haven't peaked yet.
Don't come in August unless you specifically want the full party experience and you have the budget for it. August Ibiza is intense.
Last question — would you ever go back to DJing?
I played a set at a friend's beach bar in Cala Xuclar last September. Small system, maybe 40 people, sunset. I played for three hours — old house, acid house, stuff from the 90s. No press, no social media, no 50 EUR tickets.
Someone came up afterward and said it was the best set they'd heard on the island. I thanked them and went home to feed the goats.
That's the Ibiza I love. It still exists. You just have to know where to look.
Carlos poured more wine — a local red from a producer in San Mateu. His dog hadn't moved from my feet the entire conversation. Through the kitchen window, I could see almond trees against a darkening sky, and in the distance, the lights of Ibiza Town beginning to glow. The clubs were opening. The bass would start soon.
For the complete Ibiza experience, see our comprehensive Ibiza guide covering clubs, beaches, and everything in between. And if the bohemian, off-the-beaten-path spirit of northern Ibiza appeals, Hvar in Croatia offers a similar duality of party coast and quiet agricultural interior.
But up here in the north, the only sound was cicadas.
