Magical Mallorca
Last night was, hands down, the hottest night I’ve EVER endured. It must’ve been about 40 degrees in our bedroom! We could’ve done a nice bacon and eggs on our mattress – I’m not joking. A studio apartment in the mouth of a volcano would only have dipped the mercury a fraction less I’m sure. in the wee hours of the morning I heard Ross get up and go to the toilet. Within a few seconds he was snoring! I thought; “oh no, he’s nodded off on the loo!” and went to investigate, only to find he’d taken his pillow with him and was crashed out, arms and legs splayed in the starfish position, on the tiles! Desperate times call for desperate measures! Lola was apologetic at breakfast and we had to politely explain that the hot weather wasn’t something she was responsible for!
Speaking of breakfast, Lola had especially gone out to the shops early this morning to pick us up a Mallorcan breakfast treat: ensaïmadas. Looking like round croissants, dusted with icing sugar, fresh from the oven, they were scrumptious. We also had tomato rubbed on oven roasted bread with a good smattering of olive oil, muffins, cakes and strong brewed coffee. Mallorca is not the place to come if you’re trying to shed some kilos!
Our wonderful tour guides took us on a magical drive along the west coast of the island. Mallorca is surprisingly large and quite mountainous. The views as we skirted the mountains were nothing short of spectacular. Passing groves of almond trees, olives and orange trees we could spy terracotta-roofed farm houses dotting the terraced hillsides. Entering the gorgeous village of Valldemossa, nestled in the cradle of the Serra Tramuntana National Park was like stepping into a movie. The streets were paved with smooth stones, worn from centuries of footprints; each street corner with a colourful handpainted tile, depicting something from the bible; terracotta pots brimming with bright geraniums were mounted on the sides of the buildings; vine covered terracotta-coloured houses had white curtains billowing in the gentle breeze from their shuttered windows. All the shutters in Mallorca are a traditional green and each of the Balearic Islands has its own signature colour. Ibiza for instance, has white shutters. The uniform colours of terracotta and green in Valldemossa were brought to life with pops of colour from lemon trees and century old bouganvilias. It was so gorgeous!
The great thing about being shown around by a local is all the inside knowledge of a place. Lola took us to a leafy garden courtyard and introduced us to cocas de patatas, an ultra delicious, soft, lightly textured roll made from potatoes and sprinkled with a generous dusting of icing sugar. We also tried an almond slushee type drink, called granizado de almendra and it was so good!
From Valldemossa we drove to another little mountain village called Deià, equally gorgeous but steeper, set right on the mountainside. A short drive from the Deià village was the beach at Deià. It was a hairy drive down the narrow winding road but well worth it! As Sergi said, ‘no pain, no gain!’ We could barely believe our eyes, walking into this incredible postcard view! The beach had no sand, just large rocks all over the curved shoreline. It looked as if it had been scooped out of the earth with a giant ice cream scoop. Both above the beach – an ancient fishing spot – and behind it, were restaurants carved into the rock with sticks as fences. The water was magnificent, in colour and temperature and there were caves and open holes through the rocks where fishing boats were once stored, to swim to and explore. Toby was swimming with his cast off, a big relief for him and the other kids were freaking their poor mother out by climbing the cliffs & going too close to the edge. If I had a dollar for every time I heard, “just chill out Mum”, I’d be listed as one of BRW’s richest Australians of the year.
At one stage Ross & I were swimming out together towards the boats and he said, ”we are in Spain, in the Mediterranean!” It seemed surreal. We have to keep pinching ourselves and we are certainly not taking this opportunity for granted!
Our last stop on today’s tour was a gorgeous seaside town called Soller (pronounced Soy-err). Unlike the rocky Deià, Soller had white sand, matching beach umbrellas and a cute little tram running right along the water. A bit more touristy and less off the beaten track, Soller was no less pretty. I’m not going to lie though, the drive down was a little heart-stopping, as Ross expertly manoeuvred the A-Team van around hairpin bend after hairpin bend, cars coming the other way just turning up when you least expected it! The map of the road looks like a winding waterslide at Wet’n’Wild. We saw a few guys riding racing bikes down these hair-raising bends and they were flying! They were actually clocking speeds higher than the cars! While the bends were crazy, the view of the sea was insane. Worth the heart palpitations after all. I can’t say I wasn’t relieved when Sam studied the map and told us there was an alternate route we could take home!
Lola’s husband Juan, arrived tonight after having to stay in Australia an extra couple of days after his family left. He is just as warm and beautiful as Lola and took us out to Palma for a dinner of typical Mallorcan tapas. One of the dishes, pimientos de padron, was green peppers stuffed with cheese (amongst other things) and in amongst the whole plate, there is always just ONE extremely hot one, hiding in with all the rest. Pepper roulette! Sam was determined to locate it but kept drawing blanks. Finally, after indulging in no less than twelve of these delectable peppers, he finally hit the jackpot! In typical Spanish fashion, we didn’t eat until 10:30 pm and were still dining at midnight, the restaurants and shops still buzzing with diners. Maisy nearly face planted into her dinner she was so tired. When Lola and Juan indicated to the waiter that we were all done, he ran his eyes over the table and stopped them abruptly when he spotted a plate that was still harbouring a few stuffed peppers. He shook his head vigorously and muttered something aggressively in Catalan and walked away. He was not going to clear away perfectly good peppers! Lola, knowing what he had said in Catalan, passed the plate again and apologised that we were just going to have to finish this plate, I’m sorry. Classic! The Pepper Nazi. Stuffed full of stuffed peppers, we called him back and only when he was satisfied we’d fulfilled our gastronomical duty, he cleared the plates away. There’s a new take on how to fight the War On Waste.
