Mallorca 2009 Chapter 10

MALLORCA

Chapter 10


The last chapter of my story may well have given the impression that Barcelona consisted of little more than the Rambla, which would be quite incorrect. It is, in fact, a large sprawling city with an old area and a new part. The old city is what was originally within the city walls and parts of it are still standing although very little is left of the walls themselves. The dark narrow streets are fascinating to wander down, and were full of surprises in the form of tiny shops or restaurants crammed into impossible spaces. There are also residences there, and if one is lucky enough to pass by while the front door is open, a quick glimpse into the interior will often reveal a beautifully furnished room leading to a courtyard beyond, lush with plants and shady trees. The contrast between that and the somewhat dingy exterior can be really startling.
Then, of course, there is the newer part of Barcelona. Having hosted the Olympic Games a few years ago, it was forced to erect many new buildings to accommodate athletes and to provide venues, and although I am not usually a fan of modern abstract building design (which often leaves me feeling somewhat uncomfortable), I have to admit that they have managed to combine modernism and elegance in an excellent balance. Colour has also played a big part and one of the largest new buildings is navy blue with shiny panels, in random uneven stripes, of ceramic tiles. Mosaics, too, are a big feature and can be seen on pavements and walls, all of which adds to the general idea of vibrancy.
All in all, we were very impressed with the city both the old and the new, and would love to go back there again one day to see all the bits we didn’t manage to fit in this time.
Our next venture was a day out in Palma. Strange to think that we have been here for nearly five weeks without exploring the main city yet, so the excursion was well overdue. We took the bus from Santa Ponca and quite by chance chose the slow bus which ambles it’s way through all the suburbs. Actually it was the first one that came along! It was a good way to see some of the other small towns between ourselves and Palma without Neels having to drive, and had the added advantage of dropping us exactly where we wanted to be without having to search for parking.
First stop was the Cathedral, which is a massive block of a building. Perhaps this is why it s still standing, having been started in the 1300’s and having taken 300 years to build. Like a lot of these old churches, it is quite dark inside with wonderful stained glass windows, which immediately cause one to look upwards. It is also the second highest cathedral in Europe with 21.5 meter pillars inside supporting the roof. Quite awe-inspiring!
After that it was a case of wandering randomly through the old part of town – obviously our favourite occupation. We zig-zagged back and forth and finally fetched up in the main square – the Placa Major – which is again a great place for eating and for entertainers. When we arrived, a flamenco dancer was just beginning her routine to the accompaniment of a drummer playing a small bongo-type drum held between his knees. Then, inside the square, there was a group of three acrobats; another invisible man; and a young lady who played the flute, who followed after a man who played a piano accordion. So we sat ourselves down at one of the many tables arranged around the square and had a meal there, while being royally entertained. This particular square is one of the few we encountered that is completely surrounded by three storey buildings. On the inside of the square is a covered walkway separated from the square by arches rather like the cloisters in an abbey. The buildings are apartments which all look down on the square and have little flat balconies and shuttered French doors which are so typical of that period of buiding.
Our day ended with another bus ride back to Santa Ponca, only this time we caught the express which whizzed us back along the motorway in half the time it had taken in the morning.

Mallorca 2009 Chapter 9

A stay-at-home day to ready ourselves for going to Barcelona the next day. Lots of washing and folding, packing and thinking and unpacking again, until we were sure we had the bare minimum on which we could manage without offending those around us! Finally we had pared it down to a small suitcase and three backpacks between the four of us., so we went off to bed with our alarm clocks set for 6.30 the next morning. Probably rather earlier than necessary but since we all have this thing about not getting to airports late, we decided to err on the side of early. Anyway there were all sorts of unknowns to factor in like, how long it would take to get to the airport at about 8 in the morning; what sort of traffic jams we would encounter; how long it would take to sort out the paperwork when we got to the ‘Park and Fly’ long stay car park, and how long it would take for them to get us back to the terminal. In the end we discovered that there was almost no traffic at that time of the morning; there were no traffic jams; the paperwork took only a few minutes although we did discover later that Neels had become Mr Schengen (taken off his visa) and that they didn’t have an arrangement with a Mr Ferreira! So we ended up at the check in desk at 8.30 for our flight which left at 11. Rather early, you may think. Imagine our shock when we discovered that the clocks had been changed at midnight the night before and the real time was 7.30!!! Oh well………….at least we were not late for the plane.
Thirty minutes after taking off we had arrived and were soon on an Aerobus which whisked us into the centre of the city. From there it was a short stroll down the most famous of all Barcelona’s streets – the La Rambla – to our hotel. Cheap and cheerful at E55 for two people including breakfast, it is wonderfully situated on the corner of La Rambla and one of the side streets, and the breakfast room had a huge picture window overlooking the ‘action’. For those of you who are not familiar with La Rambla, let me try to describe it to you. The whole area is about a kilometer long ; a wide road with traffic on either side and a wide pedestrian area up the middle. On either side of the pedestrian area are stalls, but not in a continuous line, and various ‘characters’. I don’t know how else to describe them. There was one dressed as a most beautiful bronze angel who stayed perfectly still unless money was thrown into her collection box. Another two were dressed up as dragons – a black one and a silver one – who delighted in grabbing at people as they went past, mainly the young girls who would give a satisfying scream, but who would then enfold their ’prey’ in their wings, very gently, to allow photographs to be taken. There was a Charlie Chaplin look-alike; a Roman legionnaire; a matador; an Arab sheik and quite a few scary ones like Dracula or people who popped out of coffins as you walked past. Strangely there were no musicians of any sort. Then there were guys strolling up and down with little whistles in their mouths that made a noise like bird calls. Of the stalls, most were souvenir sellers with the usual postcards and fridge magnets, T-shirts and dishcloths, necklaces of various sorts and bracelets and a great variety of other things. Over the next three days we spent many hours rambling up the Rambla (or down) looking at everything there was to see. That wasn’t all, though. On our first full day there, we caught an open-top hop-on-hop-off bus to be taken around the city. The bus does two different routes and our ticket allowed us to get on and off at the various stops and to use it on two different days too. It was brilliant.
On the first day we went past the Sagrada Familia which, to all the uninitiated, is the famous unfinished cathedral designed by Gaudi, so decided to hop off and go and visit it. The queue to get in was about 100 meters long but was moving quite fast so we only had to wait for about 20 minutes. I have to admit to being very skeptical about the place, and after seeing it, I still don’t think it is my idea of a church, but I have to admire his visions and designs, and the application of both. At the moment, both the outside and the interior of the church is festooned with cranes and scaffolding, and there is much shouting and banging going on, but it is still possible to get an idea of what the finished building will look like and I think it will be impressive, to say the least.
Apart from this stop, we didn’t really get off at any other places, being content to ride along on the top of the double-decker bus, listening to the commentary provided. When we completed our circular tour, we made a brief stop at a huge departmental store called El Corte Ingles, but didn’t stay long. The brand names advertised around the walls of the interior were enough to make us cringe – names like Gucci, Yves St. Laurent, Dolce & Gabbana, Louis Vuitton, Diesel, Zara, Benetton and the like. The perfumed air in the shop just made you so aware of how much everything would cost, that we scurried out again like the proverbial country mice.
Our evening meal that night was enjoyed at one of the open-air restaurants in the Rambla, watching all the people passing by and the general buzz and hum of activity.
The next day, we went out after breakfast and explored some of the narrow twisting streets of the old city, discovering tiny shops wedged into spaces the size of our kitchen; amazing murals on the walls of seemingly ancient buildings; wonderful carvings high up on walls, and others on doors. And then, when we had walked ourselves weary, we went back to the hotel, checked out and put our luggage into their safe storage for collection later and went off to do the second circuit of the town. The day was less warm than the day before and we got a bit blown around on top of the bus, but we enjoyed it immensely and saw the main sights.
At about 5 o’clock, we collected our luggage and walked up the Rambla for the last time to catch our Aerobus back to the airport and so back to Palma.
Barcelona was an experience which I will always remember for it’s sights and sounds; it’s vibrancy and life, and it was a wonderful place to celebrate my birthday.

Mallorca 2009 Chapter 8

MALLORCA

Chapter 8

Friday 23rd October.

The inclement weather of earlier in the week persisted, after a brief break when we had our last outing, until the wind had reached gale force strength and the Mediterranean Sea no longer resembled a lake of silvery sparkling water but was more like something whipped up by a very angry giant wielding a vast egg-beater! From the apartment we can look out over the sea, and a little way off shore is a small island called Isla de Toro, which has a lighthouse perched on one side of it. It is really little more than a large rock jutting out of the sea, probably about 30 meters at it’s highest point. Well, at the height of the storm and winds, the waves were crashing right over the top which made for some spectacular sights. Not very good for sight-seeing though and on one day we were so cold that we stayed in bed until the working folk on the island were about to knock off for their lunch and siesta.
On Thursday Dave and Cynthia returned from their brief stay in England buoyed up by having seen their friends and in Dave’s case, by having made some progress in his research into the family history. The weather cleared just long enough to get them back here again before the fiercest part of the storm began. It really didn’t matter though as the four of us had lots to catch up on and to compare notes about what we had been doing.
This morning we had a bit of shopping to do locally and then we took Dave and Cynthia to Port d’Andratx just for a look around. I am glad we saw it the other day as it had suffered quite badly in the storm. Obviously the waves had crashed right over the front and into some of the quayside restaurants bringing all sorts of floating debris with it. When we got there, Operation Clean-up was under way, but in all of the restaurants it was still ‘Business as usual’!

Saturday 24th October

After assessing the predicted weather, we had decided that Saturday could possibly be a good day to do the train trip from Palma to Soller, and we were right! It turned out to be a beautiful day with clear sunny skies and no breeze to speak of. The planned trip was relatively complicated (for us) and entailed going by car to Santa Ponca, where we could park in the all day free parking; then catching a bus to Palma which would deposit us at the station; then by vintage train to Soller near the north-western coast of the island and then finally by old-fashioned electric tram down to the port. Wow!
Although the various forms of transport run fairly frequently, there are quite large gaps in the time-table and as we didn’t want to waste a moment of time, we were all up and ready to go by eight o’clock – for us, REALLY early! We gathered our belongings, trooped down to the garage and climbed into the car. But when Neels turned the switch, there was just a dull clunk and we were obviously not going anywhere in a hurry. Finally after trying a few tricks to get the car to start, the rest of us climbed out and pushed and Neels managed to start it on the slope down to the road. Fortunately this little episode had not made us late, and we parked the car in the free parking as planned, knowing for a fact, that it would not start when we returned.
The bus stop was just around the corner and within minutes our number 102 bus arrived. The passengers boarded and we were off! We hadn’t realized, but the 102 is the express bus which goes straight into Palma without stopping, and at that time of the morning, with little other traffic on the road, we whizzed along at a tremendous speed. My only regret was that, being so high up, we were able to see over walls that we had previously driven alongside, and I would have loved to have gone a little slower to enjoy all this extra view.
At the bus terminus, all the busses park underground and once we had re-emerged into the outside world, we had no idea which way was up or which way to go to the train station. Standing right there though, was a young fellow who looked like a student and since most young people can speak some English, we asked him where to go. He really must have thought we were the dimmest of dim old people that he had met, because in the end he took us to the gate, and it was right next door! We had been expecting to walk down to the end of the road or something similar. The train to Soller has been running since 1912 and although there are other commuter trains on the island, the authorities have seen fit to preserve the old trains and the station in their original condition, right next to the modern trains. Even the station café has old-fashioned looking furniture in it, so because we were now at least an three-quarters of an hour early, we sat and had a cup of coffee under the rustling palm trees. After a while the ticket office opened and we bought our tickets and wandered off to the train. We had heard that it carries 350 passengers and wondered how full it would be. It turned out to be very full. Perhaps being a Saturday and beautiful weather had something to do with it.
The train takes about an hour and a quarter to cover the 28 kms of track and proceeds at a rattling, clattering, creaking, groaning and swaying pace. The old wood-panelled coaches have upholstered seats which are barely big enough for two adults, and watching the coach ahead is an almost scary thing as it bounces around on the track and sways violently from side to side. There was only one real stop to take on passengers but we did have a few stops to wait for oncoming trains to pass and one stop in particular to be able to get out and admire the view. There are also 14 tunnels on the way, the longest being about three kilometers long with a slight rise in the middle of the tunnel. It is a strange sensation to feel oneself chugging uphill for a while, in the dark, and then start running down hill again. On the outward journey, one could feel the tension rising in the coach as the train roared along going faster and faster through the dark tunnel; the noise almost deafening; until we suddenly burst out into the sunshine again and everyone started clapping spontaneously.
When we got to Soller, it was market day, so we just had to go for a wander through the stalls. Soller also is the home of the island’s best-known ice-cream factory, which makes forty flavours of ice-cream, so we had to try one of those too. We wandered into the big old church and around the narrow cobbled streets for a while and then, as it was nearly lunch time, we thought it time to do the last leg of the journey and catch the tram for the last two kilometers down to the sea. The trams are ex-San Fransisco trams and are also rattling, clanging, banging affairs, with open sides and wooden slatted seats. They travel very slowly but are such fun to go in. They start near the station and then travel through the centre of town, through the town square and down the narrow streets and none of the locals take very much notice at all.
Port de Soller is pretty much like every other seaside place around here, except that for the first time, we came across a non-sandy beach. Well, perhaps that isn’t quite fair – there is sand but not of the usual beach variety – it looks more like garden sand and is a strange reddish brown colour. But the yachts were there in their dozens, neatly moored in the marina, all gleaming and shiny with the halyards slapping gently against the masts, while along the jetty, people sat at shady tables, eating drinking or just relaxing. Along the road behind the jetty were the normal array of souvenir shops which are always worth looking at and we spent a pleasant couple of hours there.
The day was still not over, however, as there was the tram trip back to Soller; the train trip back to Palma; then the bus back to Santa Ponca where our dead car was waiting for us! Sadly, the fairies had not miraculously fixed it in our absence, but we found a helpful young man to add his muscles to ours and we push started it again and drove home, getting back at about 8.30 pm.
Once home, Neels phoned the car-hire company (again) and was told to phone the emergency number. He did that and explained that all the car needed was a new battery, but shortly a breakdown truck arrived, loaded the car on to the back and off it went. An hour later, however, it was back again, off loaded and put away in the garage again, still in the same condition! We couldn’t establish why this happened, but were told to phone the car-hire company again this morning, which we did and a short while later, the same break-down truck arrived, this time with another car on the back which they off-loaded and left with us, taking the ‘dead’ one away with them. So now we are on car number five! Here’s holding thumbs that it lasts us until we leave!

Mallorca 2009 Chapter 7

MALLORCA

Chapter 7

Two lazy days due to inclement weather prompted us to get out and about on Monday morning – the 19th October. There was a cool breeze and it was partly cloudy but as we took the road eastwards, the day improved steadily and by midday was quite stunning – a brilliant blue sky with tiny clouds and no breeze to speak of.
We had planned a round trip which took us eastwards to Manacor past literally hundreds of the island’s peculiar windmills, in various states of repair. Some were originally used to pump water up from underground wells while others were for grinding grain, but most fell into disuse in the early 1970’s and are only now being restored. They are a great feature of the island and it would be sad to see them go.
Manacor is the island’s second largest city and is known for fine furniture production and pearls, but as we were not particularly interested in either, we moved on to the next place in our tour which was Felanitx, almost due south of Manacor. It is supposed to be the centre of white wine production for the island, and is also apparently well known for ceramics, so we thought it worth a stop. However, we should have been fore-warned by the total absence of any sign of vineyards on the approach to the town! What we found was a rather grubby and neglected little place, with practically all of the shops already closed although it was not quite midday and the shop hours were very plainly stated on the doors as being open until 1 pm. Ah well, perhaps, in addition to the three hour siesta every day, they also have early closing on Mondays. Who knows! Anyway we sat in the sun in the town square and enjoyed a cup of coffee, and in that we did not feel let down. We have still not come across a cup of coffee that we have not enjoyed. They really know how to make a good cup in Spain! But coffee was not lunch and however good it was, we did not feel like staying there any longer so we drove further east to the coast and there we found Portocolom, nestled on the side of the only truly natural harbour on the island. By now the day was at it’s best, and how could we resist the thought of relaxing at a waterfront café, watching people messing about in their boats on the sparkling water. So the next hour or so passed very agreeably as we enjoyed the view, the chat going on all around us in a multitude of languages (but mainly German) and the delicious food.
Our return home was via Santanyi and Llucmajor and then back to Palma and home, thus completing a lovely round trip. As we passed through Llucmajor we saw a restored windmill at the side of the road and as there was even a place to stop, I at last got my picture of a windmill.And look at the huge question mark above in the clouds!
I must just say that Neels has fallen back into driving on the ‘wrong’ side of the road with no problem at all, which is just as well as the islanders are quite aggressive drivers. They practice a lot of South African tricks, like swerving across three lanes of traffic to make an exit from the motorway, usually all done at the very last moment; or of hooting wildly if the car in front doesn’t move ahead smartly enough. We witnessed a glorious scene at the airport the other day, when we were there on one of our car-swapping expeditions. We were standing waiting at the car rental office, which is located in the entrance to the hire-car garage, when we became aware of a car coming to a halt in the narrowest part of the entrance with the engine roaring. Immediately the car behind hooted. We could see the driver of the front car battling with the gear lever and guessed that his clutch had just given in. With the car behind still hooting impatiently, the front driver sprang out of his vehicle, strode to the one behind and wrenched open the driver’s door. He pulled the man from his car and pretty well bundled him along and pushed him into the driver’s seat of the stuck one. All he forgot to do, in his rage, was to go back to the car behind and start hooting! Because, needless to say, the clutch was gone and nothing was going to make the car move apart from brute strength which is what they eventually had to do.
There are also very few stop streets, as such, here. But there are hundreds of traffic roundabouts, and these, at rush hour, which is pretty much all day, can be a terrifying experience. Everyone else knows where they are going and they do it all at top speed, and all traffic circles are two lanes coming in and two lanes in the circle and two lanes going out again, and if you are not sure about which exit to use, or hesitate a moment too long, you can count on it …….someone will hoot! But on the whole and being used to some of the driving in SA, we are managing well.

Mallorca 2009 Chapter 6

MALLORCA

Chapter 6

Goodness me!! Nearly a week since I last wrote anything, but perhaps you will gather that we have been busy ‘doing’, or talking too much. After our day at Valdemossa, we had a fairly quiet day, giving Dave and Cynthia a chance to do their packing prior to going to the UK for a few days. That evening we all went into Palma to meet Karen and Bruce off the ferry and get their impressions of the famous party island of Ibiza. Apparently, it was a bit of a let-down as they found the town fairly quiet in spite of it being a long weekend, due to it being Spain’s National Day on the Monday. They also thought it was quite grubby compared to Mallorca, but raved about the beaches which are many and varied.
The next day we had to get to the airport before midday to return the ‘big’ car and retrieve the smaller one, or be charged for another day. It suited everyone well as K&B wanted to go into Palma, and Dave and Cynthia had to be at the airport by 1 pm anyway to check in. We made the swop, getting a Citroen C4 hatchback, which seemed infinitely smaller and more comfortable for Neels to drive; said our temporary goodbyes to our friends and drove back to Palma to meet up with Karen and Bruce. By some miracle we found an underground parking garage that didn’t charge the earth for parking, and then when we emerged from underground like a couple of moles, we went into the nearest shop and asked someone to mark the spot with a cross, on our map. Then we phoned Karen to find out where they were and set off towards them. It is very confusing though as some of the streets in the old town are little more than passages and after walking for about half an hour we decided to ask the way, so in good old British style, we asked a policeman, or in this case, a policewoman. Before she could answer, however, a fellow passing by spun round saying, “You aska da way. I tella you. I spikka da good Eenglis” and proceeded to point back down the road we had just come along. Dismayed, we tried to establish where the sea was, and after some handwaving, pointing to the blue on the map and saying ‘ Le mar’, we discovered that he was quite right. Somehow we had walked in a circle and would now have to retrace our steps. But it is an ill wind that blows no-one any good (as they say) and in trying to find Karen and Bruce we came across the Placa Major which is the central square of the old town. Karen and Bruce actually found us before we found them and we thought it a very good idea to have lunch at one of the street cafes in the square. What a fascinating place to stop for a while. As we entered the square my attention was caught by a man in pirate costume having a mock sword fight with a little boy. A bit further in was a statue of a chimney sweep, only it wasn’t statue at all, but a real person standing on a plinth, and standing very, very still. Further on was another little tableau, this time of a man and woman who appeared to have been made out of sandstone, or perhaps mud. She had a rose (made of the same material) while he had a cigar and a bottle (also of mud). If money was dropped into their collection plate, they would go through an elaborate series of slow moves in which the rose, the bottle and the cigar changed hands several times until everything was back where it started and then they would revert to absolute stillness again. Their muscles must ache at the end of a day out there.
Another attraction was the invisible man who was inviting passing ladies to dance with him. All one could see was a hat and a pair of dark glasses perched above a suit. No head was showing and he was wearing gloves to cover his hands. It doesn’t sound nearly as spectacular as it looked. There were also portrait artists sitting at various places around the square drawing instant portraits. Most of them were very good, and I’m sure make a good living out of doing this.
Soon though, it was time to go, so we made our way back to the cross on the map, and would you believe it, we came out at the right place!
The next day dawned grey and chilly, but in spite of that we decided to have one last splendid meal before Karen and Bruce had to leave us, so we went off to Port d’Andratx about 20 kms away. What a shame it was so cool, because we found an idyllic place to lunch on the water’s edge with a view of the constant traffic of pleasure boats and working fishing boats going in and out of the harbour. The fishing boats could be identified from quite far out to sea as each one had it’s own little cloud of seagulls accompanying it, drifting along in the air at exactly the same speed as the boat almost as if they were tied to the mast with strings of different lengths.
We had now come to the end of Wednesday 14th and it was heavy hearts that we returned home that afternoon as we all knew that the next thing on the agenda was for Karen and Bruce to pack as they would be leaving the next day. Bruce even commented at some time in the evening that he had that ‘Sunday-afternoon-going-back-to-boarding-school’ feeling.
We had a late-ish start on Thursday and then went off to drop them at about midday. While there, we handed the car in, again, this time because it had started making a terrible noise when we went around corners. I was quite certain the front wheels were going to fall off, but Neels said he didn’t think that would happen. Although the car hire company must be quite sick of seeing us now, they were very pleasant and changed the car for another C4, this time a saloon which is really quite a large vehicle. If this one lasts until we leave, we will have no problems with getting ourselves and the luggage into it as it has a massive boot!
The apartment seemed very empty when we returned to it with only ourselves to rattle around in it, but we got busy with a bit of housework and soon made the time go.
I seem to remember saying at some time during our French holiday that travel certainly increases one’s language skills whether you are aware of it or not. Last year I learnt some unusual words to add to my French vocabulary and this year we are adding words to our Spanish wordlist. Thankfully not words like kidney stone, but while shopping for some extra linen for the apartment, I had to learn the words for pillow, pillowcase, duvet and duvet cover as the place we went to was so huge that if we hadn’t asked where to find things, we would probably still be wandering around peering at the pictures on the likely packages.

Mallorca Chapter 5

MALLORCA

Chapter 5

Sunday 11th

Valdemossa, near the western coast, was our destination for today. The weather has cooled slightly and the prospect of climbing up and down hills and steps was far less daunting than it has been. The town is about 40 kms away from where we are in a north-westerly direction. What a beautiful little place! The cathedral complex forms the centre of the town, standing, as so many of these old churches do, on a slight knoll with the town laid out around it. Once again, local stone has been used for all the buildings which lends a warm welcoming atmosphere. It has been commercialized to quite a large degree, and shop keepers are permitted to display their wares on the pavements, but at this stage it has not become overwhelming. Tiny cobbled streets lead off the main thoroughfare and higgledy-piggledy houses cling to the hillside. Wandering through them is a delight as around each corner one gets a “Kodak moment’ view. Flower-boxes decorate the doorways and walls and tall trees give welcome shade. We did the almost-obligatory tour of the cathedral and surrounding complex, and were intrigued by the fact that Frederic Chopin and his lover, George Sand, the authoress, had spent time here back in the late 1830’s. the views from their apartments is quite stunning, but apparently they hated it here. Perhaps in winter, and being unmarried in a Roman Catholic environment had more than a little to do with it!
After a leisurely lunch, we decided to see what was at the Port of Valdemossa (which I have re-named as Valli-Moosa-by-the-sea). In fact there wasn’t much to see at all, but the road down to it was probably the most nail-biting one we have done so far. Remember we are driving a sort of a bus thingy called a Citroen Jumpy, which is probably about the size of a Combi but a little wider. The main road, which we turned out of to get to the port, is about 350 metres above sea level, the port, obviously, 350 metres and six kilometers pretty much straight down below. The road has 85 bends, of which 16 were severe hairpins and the road has no line down the middle, which generally means it isn’t really wide enough for two vehicles. There was a very pronounced silence from the back seat for most of the way down, with the occasional gasp as another car appeared coming in the other direction, but our driver managed admirably and we did not bump anything. or anyone. A tricky moment was when we met two cars coming up right on a hairpin, and a delicate ballet ensued with much backing and forwarding.until we could pass each other. That was nothing though, compared to the return trip when we met a huge camper van on it’s way down!! We are all still wondering if he actually knew what he was letting himself in for when he started out, because if not, he was going to age twenty years in about as many minutes!
Just for an added frisson of excitement, at one of the narrowest sections, on the way down, we suddenly saw a loop of rope hanging from the rocks at the side of the road. Negotiating carefully past it we discovered the other end was attached to a climber who was some way up the rockface! What very good luck we didn’t snag the loop on the outside rearview mirror!! We could easily have had a climber on our roof. When we returned, they were still at it and to complicate matters still further a young girl, obviously not interested in climbing, was sitting on the rock wall on the other side of the road, reading a book with her knees jutting well into the road, totally unconcerned..
We try to come back home again every day about 4 pm, by which time we are quite weary with sun and fresh air; walking and climbing steps, and this also gives us time to do some washing and still get it dry, and to catch up on minor chores. A very relaxing routine, in fact.

Mallorca Chapter 4

MALLORCA

Chapter 4

Saturday 10th.

As Karen and Bruce had decided to go to Ibiza for the weekend, and there is only one ferry each day, some of us were up very early indeed, to get them to the ferry port by 7 am. Although the forecast was not promising, and the day appeared to be a bit cooler and cloudy, it cleared up later for us and we hoped the same was happening in Ibiza. It seemed a pity to waste such wonderful sight-seeing weather, so we thought it would be fun to try and find a place called Cala Figuera, which the guide book described in glowing terms.
We piled into the car; keyed in ‘Jane’ to take us there and set off.. Well, I know that our current vehicle is more of a bus than a car, and more of a utility van than a saloon, but some of the roads ‘she’ suggested we take were little more than cart tracks so we declined, taking no further notice of her pleas to ‘Turn around when possible’. Instaed we drove on to the nearest filling station where I marched armed with half a dozen maps and said ‘Por favor. Cala Figuera?’ which was enough to get us on to the right road., although the road to the actual lighthouse at Cala Figuera is closed so we ended up at a pretty little bay called Portals Vells.. Although tiny, it is quite obviously an up-market sort of place as the boats moored there were deliciously sleek and well-cared for (and the restaurant was over-the-top expensive). We abandoned our thoughts of stopping for lunch and were about to go back to the car when Dave became interested in some strange looking caves on our side of the bay. He found a path along the water’s edge and made his way along and then called us to come and see too. The entrances to the three caves had been cut away to an almost square shape, but most amazingly, inside the first one was a wonderfully complicated carving on the stone wall, which at first appeared to be some sort of pagan depiction until we noticed the IHS entwined at the top. Then we saw a cross had also been carved above what appeared to have been a small chapel. Mystified, we searched in vain for some sort of information board but there was nothing. The only other thing we found was an intricate design of entwined fish in a circle, with a small hollowed out niche in the middle. We thought it looked like a collection box at the door of a church. After returning home, we searched the internet and discovered that the story behind all this was that a ship was in danger of being wrecked in a great storm off the coast, so the captian and crew made a vow to God that if they were saved, they would build a chapel at the place they were washed ashore and put the statuette of the Virgin Mary, off the ship, into it. Fortunately the storm abated and they were able to put into Portal Vells (must have been a pretty small ship), but they still built the chapel, or rather carved out a chapel, and placed the ship’s statuette in a niche inside. It stayed there for many years before being moved to the town of Calvio and then later to the church in Portal Vells where it still is today.
Feeling a bit peckish, we thought we would go a little further up the coast towards Palma to the coastal resort of Magaluf to see if we could find suitable eateries there. What a shock! Eateries there certainly were, but of the worst British kind. It was one long row of KFC, strip clubs; bra-less bars; beery pubs and footie on the big screen. Instead of the low-key stone houses that we have now became accustomed to once we are away from the cities, neon signs screamed at us from every side. And the street seemed never-ending. At last we found a traffic circle, made a u-turn and left. Been there; done that; REALLY don’t want to go back there again! So instead, we came trundling back to our apartment, stopping off at Port Adriano for a late-ish lunch.

Mallorca Chapter 3 pics

Mallorca Chapter 3

MALLORCA

Chapter 3

On Wednesday 7th, Karen and Bruce arrived to swell our little family to six, which was simply wonderful. However, it caused a slight complication in the transport department as up until then we had been careering around in a lovely little Citroen C3 – definitely NOT a six-seater. So, knowing this problem was ahead of us, we had popped in to the airport depot after visiting the Hypermarket to see what they could suggest. But they could not help us at all. Their biggest vehicle, which could have seated six, was out of commission and nothing else came close. Oh dear! So we came home and started phoning around and found the ideal vehicle at another rental company. So we set up elaborate plans to meet the representative at the airport a little before we were due to meet Karen and Bruce, and after we had handed the smaller car back. It all seemed so simple! The crunch came when we tried to hand the C3 back. They insisted that since we had spoken to them two days previously, their big vehicle had been miraculously replaced and that our payment (for the entire period) would not be refunded if we went to another company. Oh dear again! In the end, the fellow from the opposition was very understanding, realizing that the plans we had made, had been made in good faith and went away again leaving us his card ‘for next time’. So now we have something called a Citroen Jumpy’ which really does seat six but then has a vast loading space as well, so we end up with a vehicle twice as big as we need or want. Today will be the try-out and we intend driving right across the island, about 80 kms, and back, to visit the old town of Alcudia.
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Pieter had told us that we just had to visit this fantastic ‘lamb restaurant’ and had given me rather rough directions ending with…’just ask anyone in the village where the lamb restaurant is and they will show you the way’. Well, it didn’t quite work out like that but the lass in the tourist office thought she knew what we were talking about and sent us off to Restaurant la Victoria. I even scoffed a bit at Pieter and his friends because they all just called the place ‘the lamb restaurant’ as they could never remember the proper name. He also warned us that there were about thirty-two hairpin bends to negotiate, which we thought was wild over-exaggeration as the bends were hardly hairpin and way less than thirty-two. But, as promised, the view from the restaurant was amazing as it looks out over the enormous Bay of Pollenca, dotted with yachts both huge and minute, and whose entrance to the sea is guarded by massive cliffs. I even sent him an SMS complimenting him on his choice of venue. And the round trip of 176 kms was not excessive, even if we had driven the entire length of the island. Later that night while we were sitting relaxing on the patio, again with glass in hand, he called us. “What on earth were you doing in Alcudia?” he asked. When I replied that that was where I had understood we needed to go, he laughed, and through his giggles said,” Was there an ancient village there?” “Yes” I replied. “And a monastry on the top of the hill?” “Yes” There was moments silence, then he said “Well, I suppose there are lots of these places, but the one I wanted you to go to is near Alaro, about half the distance we had gone”. Never mind, we had a wonderful time and we can sill go to Alaro, although perhaps only once we get the small car back, if he is serious about the hairpin bends!

The weather since we have been here has been obscenely hot, often well into the 30’s which is just too hot for me. It is quite humid too, so one goes around in a constant damp layer under one’s clothes! Not very pleasant, although, so far, it has always cooled off quite a bit at night which is a relief. I can’t help feeling that a good, Jo’burg type thunderstorm would ease things quite a bit, but there is simply no sign of anything like that in the offing.

I think I mentioned previously that we have settled into a routine in which we have a main meal in the middle of the day. It suits us, as the evening meal starts being served at about 8 or 8.30, which we feel is a bit late for us. Also we can take advantage of the ‘Menu del dia’ or Menu of the day, which is a set price with quite a few choices. Often only two courses (More than enough!) with wine and water thrown in; bread and olives taken for granted. The only drawback to that is that for me, the wine seems to settle in my knees, which makes the climb back up the stairs to the apartment, a slow drawn-out affair with numerous rests!

Friday 9th.

The idea was to get going relatively early so that Karen and Bruuce could get in some quality beach time, but when we awoke the weather was not very favourable, so we took our time and then went into town to visit travel agents to find out about ferries to Ibiza (K&B) and planes to Barcelona (the rest of us). By the time shops closed for the siesta and we decided it was time for lunch, all signs of cooler weather had departed, so we returned home after a satisfying meal, leaving the two younger members baking on the beach with a promise to fetch them later.

Mallorca 2009 Chapter 2

MALLORCA

Chapter 2

Monday 5th October found us whizzing along the motorway in the direction of Palma, looking for a branch of Carrefour, a huge supermarket. The speed was not really from choice but the traffic all seemed to be in quite a hurry to get where it was going and we were carried along with it. Our aim was to purchase one or two things that we thought the apartment lacked, that we couldn’t find in Santa Ponsa, and were quite sure that we could be in and out in a matter of moments. How wrong can one be? Imagine the biggest SA hypermarket, then double it, then add in a branch of Game for good measure and you would probably be close! We managed our shopping quite easily, but then spent a couple of hours oohing and aahing over the variety of goods on offer. We really felt like country bumpkins! In the end we stayed and had lunch in one of the little coffee shops in the complex and then slowly made our way home again while most of the island was enjoying its siesta.

We have got into the habit of trying to find a substantial meal at lunch time, which is often a lot cheaper, and then making our own evening meal of bread, cheese and salads with fruit. Now we know where all SA’s best fruit goes to! The fattest grapes; the sweetest peaches; the most luscious apples! Oh, and of course, we have sampled quite a few wines since arriving and haven’t found a bad one yet.

The next day, being yet another stunning day, we decided to explore a little further afield so we chose a route that traveled in a slightly more northerly direction to that first exploration we had done. This meant that we came out on to the coast slightly higher up than on the first occasion and could travel along quite high up the range of mountains, looking down on the spectacular coastline where the mountain roll right down into the sea, and where, from up above one can look down into the clear blue water and see the sand and rocks way underwater.

Some way on, the road curled inland and we followed it to come to an historic estate called ‘La Granja’. I suppose one could call it a stately home, but it is still a working farm as well as a tourist site and dates back to before 1239. It was almost like a working museum. Unfortunately the demonstrations of the various crafts were not on, but we could still get a good idea of what was used in the old carpenters shop, spinning and dying sheds (for wool), tanning workshop, bakery, dairy etc.
We probably spent the best part of five hours there wandering around, in and out of the grand old house and through the gardens and could have spent even more time. One thing that strck us quite forcefully was the amount of water flowing everywhere, and fountains, until we discovered that the estate sits over a natural spring with underground pressure so great that it can squirt a stream of water 30 metres into the air. The rest of the island is so arid that this made an instant impact.

Back home again and up the 54 steps to the apartment, which I swear I am already managing more easily(!!). Then it was time to relax on the verandah with a glass in hand, watching the boats gliding past on a mirror-like sea until the sun set.

Mallorca 2009 Chapter 1

MALLORCA

Chapter 1



Another year. Another country. Another almost impossible language to learn! But what a beautiful place! However, I am getting ahead of myself so let me start at the beginning.
This holiday is a bit different because we invited two very good friends to join us in our explorations, and happily they agreed to do so. As they live relatively close to us, we arranged to all fly together, so on the appropriate date we nipped off to fetch a hire car to take us all to the airport and they were dropped off at our house by their family. I had been concerned for some time that the car we had hired would not accommodate four adults, their main luggage for five weeks and their hand luggage, but I was wrong. Our little Citi Golf managed admirably albeit a little breathless up the hills. Once at the airport the car was returned and in no time at all our luggage had been checked through to Frankfurt via Dubai and we were free to wander. Personally, I couldn’t wait to get to Dubai, where the duty-fee shopping is supposed to be so good, as I had set my heart on buying an electronic reader for my self. (For the uninitiated, this is basically a handheld computer which stores electronic books) But it was not to be. Of the two likely outlets, one just looked mystified while the other said that they had had, but were sold out. Oh well, perhaps on the way back!
We came to the conclusion that Frankfurt is quite a boring place to have to spend any time, apart from a little excitement when a small posse of police arrive brandishing machine guns and shooed everyone to one side who was trying to get up to the restaurant floor. We took ourselves off to the other side of the airport for a while and when we returned, all was calm again. We wondered if there was any connection between this episode and the alleged threat from Al Quaeda to attack Frankfurt during the Oktoberfest.
At last our flight was called and we embarked for the final leg of our marathon trip. From my window seat I could watch the luggage being loaded into the plane, by hand and piece by piece, and I was not really surprised to discover that the one wheel on one of our suitcases had been almost wrenched off . Oh well, c’est la vie, and at least it didn’t get lost or left behind.
At long last we reached our destination; weary and grubby, but excited none the less. Picking up our hire car took an interminable time, mainly because we were beaten t the desk by two other couples, but finally we were through and went off to look for our vehicle – a white Citroen C3 – perfect! We quickly unpacked the Tomtom, woke ‘Jane’ from her long sleep and tried to put her to work. To begin with, she was very grumpy and insisted that there was no such place as Mallorca, but we finally won her over and she began to operate in her old cheerful way. She wasn’t too sure about te streets that we were asking for, but eventually seemed to find something and off we set. We had phoned Dale, who lives in the complex and keeps an eye on the apartment, and she had assured us that it should take us about half an hour, and that she would be there to meet us with the keys, so what could go wrong? Well, we missed a couple of turns, for a start, and only much, much later did we discover that there was another place with a similar name on the mainland, and that this was where Jane was valiantly trying to direct us to when she took us all the way to the ferry port in Palma and said “………..and now take the ferry!” By now we were all beyond exhausted and in no mood for games, it was pitch dark and we had simply no idea which direction we were going as we couldn’t even see the sea and keep it on our left. But we reset Jane and this time we got there – two hours after having rung to say we were on the way!
Dale, her daughter and a friend Pat were on hand to hel us carry all our luggage up the 54 steps to the apartment, and when we arrived it was to soft music playing and candlelight, a lovely light breeze coming off the sea, groceries in the kitchen and REAL beds. Once we had been shown where everything was, they all disappeared back to their own apartments and we fell in to bed, still not really knowing quite where we were.
The next morning dawned fair and sunny and we readied ourselves to go and explore. High on the list was the purchase of SIM cards for our various cell phones and modems, but this we couldn’t do as we needed our passports for this, something which I imagine is what South Africa is heading for with this new registration of phones.
So instead, we made some supermarket purchases and then did some sight-seeing.
The main Santa Ponsa beach was quite full, with the sun loungers all laid out in pairs under cute palm-leaf topped sunshades. It is so strange to us to see the lapping gently lapping the shore instead of crashing in as it does on our beaches, but we were pleased to note that the beaches are sandy and not pebbly
On our second day out, having remembered to take the passports this time, we mananged to re-establish contact with the outside world, and thanks to Andre, you are all able to read this.
We discovered a delightful place to have lunch which overlooked the beach and spent a lazy time eating and watching all the activity, deciding that we would definitely return there at a later date.
By the third day, we had all sufficiently recovered from our jet lag to want to be more adventurous and to explore a little further from home. Once again Jane insisted that we wre trying to go to a non-existant place so we set off without her guidance, but generally heading west. We were soon out of Santa Ponsa and into open countryside which is lovely. Quite rough and mountainous in the area that we were heading, with unbelievably stony ground dotted with olive and almond trees. We saw a few sheep and goats but not a great deal of either, and no sin of any other livestock, but perhaps they are all on the eastern side which is apparently flatter and more arable. We stopped for lunch at a little restaurant along the way at a village called Es Capdella, and ate a traditional Mallorcan meal. It was very tasty and we enjoyed it but came to the conclusion that it had been devised to use up stale bread, The basis was two slices off one of those oval cottage loaves, sprinkled with olive oil and covered in tomatoes. With that came a mass of black and green olives , a few tiny gherkins and something that looked remarkably like seaweed, and tasted only salty, and that was your basic open sandwich. Then there were various toppings and we chose the pork, which turned out to be more like thin slices of brawn but which was delicious. Cynthia opted for chocolate cake which turned out to be quite wonderful with gobs of semi-liquid chocolate inside and a vast blob of real cream on the side..
We then drove on to Sant Elm, which appears on our map as San Telmo, so obviously spelling is not very important here. This is a lovely seaside place on the west coast, with islands dotted on the bay and craggy cliffs leading down to the sea in some places. It is supposed to be where King Jaume 1 landed when he came to overpower the locals but as we had already seen another landing place at Santa Ponsa, we think this is an historical fact that gets used by quite a lot of the villages around the coast.
Today is Sunday 4th and we have declared a rest day. Time to do washing, write postcards and do other chores. After today I will try to write more frequently and in shorter missives, but I just had to catch up with all we had done.