Favignana: The Hidden Italian Island That Resets Your Soul
The first thing I noticed about Favignana was its Arab influence. When we hopped off the ferry, I thought I had arrived at some Middle Eastern seaport. Sitting off the coast of Trapani and close to Tunisia, Favignana still reflects centuries of Arab influence; from 827 to 1091, much of Sicily was governed by Arab Muslim dynasties from North Africa. It was the first place I had ever been to where I truly felt so far from home that I wasn’t sure I would ever see it again.
The whitewashed stone buildings help reflect heat, and narrow streets are designed to create shade and channel breezes. The Sicilian language wasn’t like anything I could decipher; the food, like couscous, was unlike anything I had grown up with, and the flat rooflines made everything look level with the sky. My phone hardly got service, and I had no idea what to expect, except that my cousin Davide promised my son Lorenzo and me that the water would be crystal clear.
When we arrived, he then insisted there was only one way to do Favignana: with e-bikes. Luckily, renting e-bikes could not have been easier. Right next to the port, there were several rental shops, and we didn’t need a reservation. After getting our bikes sorted, we stopped at a bar for some espresso, pastries, and arancini, then we put the wheels and the motors to work.
The roads were lined with rock walls that framed the road like a tunnel, as the heat brushed harshly against you. To me, the rock walls are what make Favignana what it is. Some are centuries old and divide property boundaries between fields and estates, while helping bikers explore the island.
Favignana, the butterfly of the sea, is only about 6 miles long, and to me, parts of it look like the deserts of California until you come across the ruins. It’s layered, rich in history, and a little gem of the Mediterranean. It’s known for its tuna-fishing tradition, and every spring, the bluefin migrate between Sicily and North Africa while fishermen set up a complex net system called a tonnara that guides the tuna into what they call the chamber of death.
Many families depend on it for income, and celebrations are carried out to honor the process. If anyone visits in May or early June, they can experience the Mattanza festival, when the tuna harvest and its age-old rituals come to life, and the whole island gathers for processions, feasts, and music.
Ignazio Florio had purchased the Favignana tuna fishery back in the 1800s and transformed it into a modern industrial operation. The Florio family also built many grand residences on the island, and if you aren’t familiar with the family, they were sometimes referred to as the Rockefellers of Sicily.
But at the time, I didn’t know any of this as we drove around the island. I was just along for the experience with Davide, letting him show us around. Occasionally, I looked over as we rode past rectangular homes, many with bougainvillea climbing over the limestone and citrus trees bordering the road. It appeared to be a very simple way of life.
When we eventually arrived at a cove, Cala Azzurra, the turquoise water looked like Mother Nature had turned up the saturation just to show off. But if I’m being completely honest, I was so distracted at this point by the sun beating down on me that I felt myself aging by the second. I looked around, but there was no shade in sight: no trees nearby, no overhang, no stores. Nothing. There were only rocks that curved along the cove for places to sit.
People and boats were scattered throughout, with most of the people being locals. My son Lorenzo and I were immediately impressed by the picturesque view; it was nothing like the murky, cold-brown waters of Malibu. We were itching to take a dip, float in the crystal-clear waters, and just pause for a moment. We parked the bikes, then hiked down the little slope and hopped in the water for relief from the afternoon heat.
It was paradise!
A humble paradise.
People were snorkeling, some boats were docked nearby, while I dipped backward to lie in the water, knowing tiny fish were swimming below me. I felt alive. I felt renewed. I felt grateful. Every so often, I’d glance over at Lorenzo, knowing he was feeling the same thing I was. How lucky we were to have this moment. We aren’t rich by any means, and I don’t like spending money on tangible things, but experiences like this are worth every penny.
After doing a few laps, we got out of the water, and by the time we got back to our bikes, we were already nearly dry. Lorenzo and Davide wrapped their heads in beach towels; this brought me some comfort, knowing I wasn’t the only one struggling with the heat. Then Davide directed us to lunch.
Once again, we found ourselves on the road with the ruined walls on both sides. It took me a while to realize why Favignana felt so untouched and authentic. There were no sprawling resorts, beach clubs, or high-rise hotels competing for attention. Favignana is part of the Marine Protected Area of the Aegadian Islands, the largest marine protected area in Europe. And so, there are strict regulations to limit coastal development. And something tells me that’s just how Italians like it. They don’t want Favignana to turn into Capri, which was once much like Favignana before heavy development transformed the island. And having been to both, I agree.
Favignana offers a raw type of experience.
After about a fifteen-minute bike ride, we arrived at a place called Kiosko, where I finally spotted some shade, and the smell of fish became ever more prominent. It was an outdoor restaurant that came highly recommended for its tuna and coastal vibes. It’s not luxury. It’s location. The view is the main attraction. It was a small, blue-and-white-trimmed, water-facing building with lounge chairs. The menu has a bit of everything from seafood to panini to pasta. And of course, your choice of a cool beer or an Aperol spritz.
American classic rock played in the background as everyone looked relieved to be sitting in the shade. I applied more sunblock and drank a full liter of water myself before I finally began to relax in our spot closest to the homes behind it. We sat there for hours. Maybe because we weren’t ready to go back into the sun, or maybe because we were cast into a spell and didn’t want to break it just yet.
It was experiences like this that I loved sharing with Lorenzo because they were priceless. You’re on an exotic island, far from home, seeing strangers that you’ll never come across again. I had never heard of Favignana before, and if it weren’t for Davide, I probably never would have come here. But I’m so glad that I did. You feel free, isolated, and like a mere speck in the world. It’s a time to relax with loved ones, appreciate another trip around the sun, no matter how hot it may be, and embrace the art of doing nothing. Just existing. Favignana leaves you alone with your thoughts. It inspires you to dream, slows the world to a manageable pace, and reminds you how little you actually need to be happy. By the time you take the ferry back to Trapani, you feel sun-soaked, salty, and happier than you expected.
It’s a time machine.
It’s the simplicity of summer.
