Originally from the north east of England, Hannah left home at just eighteen to train as a professional dancer. Work took her across the Mediterranean and Caribbean aboard cruise ships before she eventually settled in Dubai. Although Ibiza had remained little more than a happy childhood memory, becoming a mother changed the direction of her life completely. “I knew I didn’t want to bring my daughter up in Dubai.”

For a while, England seemed the obvious choice. It was home. Family were there. But another thought quietly surfaced instead.

“I hadn’t been for years, but I thought, ‘Why don’t I just try Ibiza?'”

It offered something she couldn’t quite find elsewhere. Close enough to remain connected to home, but with the sunshine, outdoor lifestyle and sense of freedom she had grown used to living abroad. She says,”it simply felt right”. So she packed up her life and came. The Ibiza she found bore little resemblance to the island many people imagine. Her life has never revolved around beach clubs or late nights. Instead, it unfolds quietly in the countryside. She teaches yoga, strength training and birth preparation to pregnant and postnatal women throughout the week, while home life centres around walking, nature, horses and the open landscape surrounding Santa Eularia.

“My Ibiza is definitely the wellness side of the island. I’ve dipped my toe into the party side over the years, but it’s the quieter, slower side of Ibiza that really feels like home.”

Living in the campo has only deepened that connection. Days outside work are intentionally simple. She trains herself, spends time in the garden, hikes, walks the dog and cooks. “I have quite an easy-going, relaxed life.” That slower pace, however, wasn’t something she immediately understood. After years living in Dubai, where success often seemed measured by how much more could be achieved, Ibiza required an entirely different mindset.

“Everything was just… tranquila. I think Ibiza has taught me to slow down and just be, rather than always doing.”

Coming from a city built around ambition and momentum, slowing down didn’t happen overnight. It had to be learnt. Gradually, she found herself letting go of the constant pressure to achieve more. Instead of always looking ahead to the next goal, she became more content with the life already in front of her. It’s a lesson that now shapes almost every part of her life. Like many people who settle on the island, Hannah finds it difficult to explain exactly what Ibiza is.

“I think coming on holiday and living here are two very different things.”

Visitors often leave believing they’ve experienced the island, but living here reveals something altogether more layered. Ibiza, she believes, meets everybody differently. Some people arrive and settle immediately. Others seem to spend years coming and going, never quite able to find their place.

“I think Ibiza is quite a harsh mistress. She can chew you up and spit you out a little bit. The island is very confrontational. She shows you your blind spots.”

For Hannah, the island has a curious way of exposing what already exists beneath the surface. Yet alongside that intensity comes an extraordinary sense of freedom. There is less pressure to conform, less consumerism, and more space to simply live in a way that feels authentic.

“I get to work in the way I want to work and live in the way I want to live.”

Perhaps that, more than anything, explains why some people leave and others never do. Apart from those childhood holidays, motherhood and Ibiza have arrived hand in hand. Her daughter was only three when they moved, meaning almost every memory they have created here has unfolded together. Rather than changing how she experiences the island, Hannah believes Ibiza has changed how she mothers.

“It’s encouraged me to slow down. I’ve realised that not everything has to be done so quickly. Time can be taken.”

She no longer feels every task needs completing immediately or every day needs filling. In many ways, the island has given her permission to parent differently. That slower pace is reflected throughout her daughter’s childhood too. Weekends are rarely spent inside. Instead, one suggestion naturally follows another. “Let’s go for a walk.” “Let’s go to the beach.” “Let’s climb a mountain.” “Let’s collect rocks.” “Let’s collect shells.”

“For kids, it’s a lot less tech and a lot more nature.”

Rather than organised entertainment, childhood here seems to unfold through landscapes. The mountains become playgrounds. Beaches become treasure hunts. Ordinary afternoons disappear collecting shells or scrambling across rocks without anyone noticing the time. Certain places have become stitched into those memories.

Can Muson farm has remained a constant ever since her daughter was little. Even now, at ten years old, she still asks to return. She celebrated her fourth birthday there, surrounded by goats, rabbits and pigs, while children disappeared into the farm for the afternoon. Nature, Hannah says, has shaped almost every part of her daughter’s childhood. Some beaches have become favourites too. Cala Vicente, with its calm water and wide bay, remains somewhere she returns to often. Benirràs continues to hold its own quiet pull, long after the novelty of discovering it first wore off.

Above Cala Vicente sits another place that carries a more personal meaning. Tanit’s Cave. Dedicated to the Phoenician goddess of protection and femininity, it became somewhere Hannah found herself during one of life’s more uncertain moments, whilst trying to find somewhere to live had begun to feel almost impossible.

“I went to Tanit’s Cave, left some crystals there and just said, ‘I need somewhere to land.’ I don’t know if she helped me, but I like to think she did.”

Within two days she had found an apartment. She laughs gently at the memory. Whether coincidence or something harder to explain, it remains one of those small island stories that somehow feels entirely possible here.

When she thinks about what she hopes her daughter carries into adulthood, Hannah doesn’t talk about qualifications or careers. Instead, she hopes her daughter remembers the feeling of growing up amongst so many different cultures, where people from every background seem able to find a place.

“I hope she carries the inclusivity of the island. I hope she learns to work with the world rather than against it.”

She hopes she learns that life doesn’t always have to be lived at full speed. For someone who once lived in one of the fastest-moving cities in the world, it feels like a quietly significant wish. As Ibiza continues to evolve, Hannah worries about the changes many long-term residents have begun to notice. The small beach restaurants disappear while international names arrive in their place. Familiar corners of the island become increasingly polished.

“I worry the island is becoming a bit of a playground. I don’t want it to turn into somewhere that’s only five-star.”

More than anything, she hopes Ibiza keeps the qualities that have always defined it. The beaches. The countryside. The slower pace of life. The feeling that childhood can still be shaped by mountains, horses, shells, sea and time.