04 August 2026
There are places that millions of people choose every summer without truly getting to know them. Why? Because the experience is all about the afterglow.
Summer has transformed some destinations into a promise that begins when the sun goes down. It's a subtle change, but it's enough to alter the very meaning of travel. Places like Ibiza, Mykonos, or, to varying degrees, Formentera continue to be described through their sea, their white architecture, their bays, and their Mediterranean landscape. Yet, in the collective imagination, all this now seems like a prelude. The true destination lies elsewhere. Or rather, it arrives later.
Ibiza is probably the most obvious example. Every summer, thousands of people arrive on the island with a precise list: the beach club where they can book an aperitif, the place to dine, the DJ to listen to, the club to spend the night at. It's an itinerary built well in advance, often even before booking the flight. In the middle, there's an island that many end up barely seeing.
The same goes for Mykonos, some areas of Formentera, and other destinations that over the years have built their image around nightlife. Not because they have nothing to say during the day. On the contrary. The point is that their story has been progressively overshadowed by another, much more powerful imagery, made up of tables overlooking the sea, opening parties, international guests, and venues that have become brands as recognizable as the islands that host them.
It's curious to observe how, in these cases, the night almost replaces the location. You know the names of the clubs, but not the neighborhoods. You remember the lineups, but rarely a museum, a market, or a street walked without a precise destination. Even photographs always depict the same sequence: the sunset, the dinner, the toast, the lights, the return at dawn. The rest remains out of the frame.
It's not necessarily a bad way to travel. It's simply a different way of attributing value to places. Some destinations are no longer chosen to be explored, but to participate in a collective ritual that repeats itself every evening. The island becomes the stage; what matters is being there when the lights come on.
Perhaps this is the most interesting transformation of contemporary tourism. There are places we continue to call destinations, but we experience them as if they were events. We don't wander through them with curiosity; we frequent them following a pre-written script. Every day resembles the last, and every summer reproduces the same experience, with few variations.
