Looking back, and ahead

And so, with a last morning stroll along Pinewalk on the foreshore of Port Pollença, my vacation in the Balearic Islands was at an end. All I had left to do was drive the rental car to the airport (and hope for no breakdown or traffic jams) and take off.

What would I have done different? Not very much actually, the plan and its execution were very satisfactory. Perhaps I could have reduced my stay in Eivissa by one day and stayed one more day in Formentera or Mallorca instead. In fact with hindsight I would gladly skip Eivissa if it were not for amazing Formentera. I now understand why there are few guide books about Eivissa.

Mallorca and Eivissa are what I call wide airports, that have to handle a large flow of passengers very quickly but little variation in needs, as opposed to deep airports like Sydney, where they try to make passengers linger in labyrinthine passages to spend more. Mallorca has so many departures in peak that they only tell you the zone (A-D) you have to go to and about an hour before departure, they assign one of about a dozen gates.

It seemed like the whole of Germany was in Mallorca over the weekend, leaving some Turks behind to keep the country running. But I think it looked that way because Air Berlin has made such a determined push into Mallorca that they use up an entire zone.

I dislike airports, especially crowded ones. Adults are usually stressed or even panicking and don't watch where they are going so you have to dodge distracted people. Worse still if they are trying to work the mobile, smartphone or whatever at the same time. Kids gleefully take advantage of the confusion to run amok.

Please I thought, as we boarded, let me have a passenger in the next seat who is slim, pretty and sexy. In that order, because on the Eivissa to Mallorca leg there was a fat lug in the next seat and his elbow poked my kidney. In the event I ended up next to a young man with his wife so I can't complain. Two stopovers and 32 hours later, which you won't be interested to read about, I was home.

Mare Nostrum

Here and there in the Balearic islands you will see resorts, hotels or restaurants named Mare Nostrum (Our Sea). This was a Roman name for the Mediterranean, especially at the height of her power when she had territories circumscribing the Mediterranean.

What a remarkable sea it has been and continues to be. It's believed that the most recent refill from the Atlantic was 5 million years ago, during the Zanclean Flood. Water rushed in at the Straits of Gibraltar at 1000 times the flow of the Amazon and brought the Mediterranean to its current level over months or years.

Compared to the oceans it is relatively calm and navigable, nurturing the development of civilisations around it. It is the cradle of European and Near East culture. Invasions flowed and ebbed, but goods and ideas were also traded, giving us the rich mix of history and culture in countries bordering Mare Nostrum.

Alcúdia and Badia de Pollença

The headline news yesterday was that the European Union had been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. People suffering from austerity hardship from the European financial crisis, will not be cheering, but it's worth remembering Benjamin Franklin's words: There was never a good war, or a bad peace. Two generations were decimated in destructive wars until sense took hold.

Today's program was only to look around Alcúdia and the Bay of Pollença. The former used to be the Roman city of Pollentia but has passed through many hands since. The old city was easy to spot from the road and the city provides car parks nearby. However the medieval walls are restored and not actually that old.

Inside the old city are shops, restaurants and a town hall. It hosts a market twice a week and is a drawcard for tourists. In fact until a few decades ago, Alcúdia was an unloved backwater until it went for tourism in a big way. In the new city, huge resorts have been built. The port carries traffic from the mainland as well as to Ciutadella on Menorca. I would have loved to cross to Menorca by ferry, but services reduce to once a week outside the summer season.

An orange tree in a square, but most of the fruit was still green.

Waiting for compliant humans to give it some attention.

It is possible to walk on the wall for part of the circumference. From there you can see the surrounding plains, the Bay of Pollença and in the distance, the Tramuntana.

It was a short drive, though on a narrow road for part of the way, to the Mirador de la Victoria on the Alcúdia peninsula. From there you can see the mouth of the Bay of Pollença.

And Port Pollença at the head of the bay.

Along the way there there are some beaches, though too rough to swim at. There's that turquoise water again.

Back in Port Pollença, I waded into the water and found that it was too cold to swim. So I just cooled my heels for a while, satisfied that I had tried the Mediterranean water. On the way back I had a beer at this corner restaurant (in the afternoon) before calling it a day with a siesta.

Cala Ratjada and Cap de Capdepera

My touring ambitions were diminishing. This was deliberate; I wanted to relax for the last couple of days before the big jump back home. So today I was only doing the north coast of Mallorca with perhaps a stop in Inca, in the centre of the island, to see how the Oktoberfest was going. (Yes, strangely they have it here, not sure if it's due to the German visitors or just something they adopted for fun. I'll add more details later if I find them.)

The itinerary was a drive through Alcudia, the next resort to the east of Pollença, and thence to Artà and Cala Ratjada. Alcudia I was leaving for tomorrow, but I saw it was a much larger resort than Port Pollença. Artà was said to be a good place to view Es Pla, the central plain of Mallorca, but the streets up to the ermita on the hill were so narrow that I feared I would not be able to extricate my car, so I pressed on. When I got to Cala Ratjada (which is actually a sizable town, not just a cove) I didn't see any parking and before I knew it, I was on the road to the lighthouse. So you are seeing the cape first.

This is the northeastern corner of Mallorca. From here there are views down south with your standard rocky outcrops.

And looking north, more rock and sea.

What you don't see in these pictures are all the other tourists on the cape. The road up the cape is single lane all the way with only a few places for passing. I was lucky to meet no cars coming down. I was also lucky to find a spot to park. Some people had walked up the hill from the town and a few hardy ones had cycled.

This group seemed to be getting a lecture from a guide.

This was one of 3 feral but not hostile cats I encountered on the cape. Well perhaps they were put there on purpose, to control rodents maybe; I saw that they had pet food and water put out for them in a nook.

Down in the town I found parking and walked down the main street. This grocer had a colourful collection of chillies hanging outside.

The guide said that Cala Ratjada was a favourite of German package tourists. They were indeed everywhere. I heard them on the beaches, in the streets, in the fields, in the landing grounds, oops wrong speech. All the signboards and menus had German translations, and even German dishes for those who didn't dare to try Spanish food.

This Italian restaurant is named after that famous Neapolitan song Oh My Fish or is it Oh My Shoe?

The marina was quite attractive.

I refreshed myself with a beer (non-alcoholic, because I was driving) and a gelato.

I liked the orange shutters of this hotel.

I headed inland towards Inca. Here the landscape was flat plains, unspectacular but of course vital for growing food. As I was passing through Manacor, a large industrial town, the sky opened up. So I parked the car and had a lunch of cold chicken and bread in the car.

Just as well I had done the Tramuntana already, it would be no fun in this weather. Then again I have it on good authority that The Rain in Mallorca Stays Mainly on the Plain so the mountains might have been ok. Hmm, that line doesn't sound catchy, I'll get back to you about that.

At Inca there was no sign of the Okoberfest. Maybe it was for the evening. The Lidl supermarket I stopped at on the way back had closed early, at 1500, for the Oktoberfest. Some German shoppers were also disappointed, I heard a father utter scheisse.

Southern Tramuntana and Miró Museum

I intended to pick up where I left off the day before, but south of the Palma-Soller line, which I had done on my first day in Mallorca. I intended to refuel in Inca but got held up by a cycling event on the off-ramp so I decided to avoid them by not entering the town at all. Palma is surrounded by ring roads and I wasted time looking for a petrol station, the low fuel light flashing by this time. I also needed to pee. But I finally found one.

I was supposed to take the turnoff for Esporles but missed it and found myself on the highway to Andratx, the southern point of the tour. Oh well, I'll do the tour in reverse then. From the highway I saw many beautiful hillside homes. I wondered how many rich Spanish and expatriates have homes in Mallorca. Andratx is described as a picturesque town but before I could find a place to park I was on the road up the mountains. It looked sleepy in the morning heat anyway.

The southern Tramuntana is greener than the north, and more settled. Houses and farms use terraces to cope with the slope. From a mirador I viewed the blue Mediterranean, but the horizon was indistinct compared to yesterday due to the humidity.

There were many tourists on the same road trip, many of them Germans. This cafe at the mirador was not open which was a pity. I (and probably others) would have liked to have a coffee and view there. Also I was forced to find a secluded spot to pee again. Then I had a mid-morning snack of fruit.

The next town up the coast was Banyalbufar. But before that was a mirador just outside a vineyard.

This part of the Tramuntana is keenly used by hikers, and cyclists of course. They seemed to have taken up all the free parking spaces. Not that there were many to begin with, the road narrows to a single lane in places and traffic has to take turns if there is conflict. So I pressed on to Estellencs. By now I was back on the leeward side of the Tramuntana and it was a unremarkable drive returning to Palma.

I took lunch at Porto Pi, the biggest shopping centre in Mallorca, on the opposite side of Passeig Maritim from the boat terminal. It actually wasn't that big compared to Australian malls, but then Palma is only a small city. The air-conditioning seemed to be struggling in the hot day. At Carrefour I bought a roast chicken and bread which would do me for dinner, as I was tired of the sit-down dinner routine.

Then I went to the nearby suburb of Genova where the Miró Museum, or to give its full name, Fundació Pilar i Joan Miró a Mallorca, is located. This is where the artist worked for the last decades of his life. Previously I had only seen his work in Barcelona. Normally I have little patience with surrealist art, but I like Miró. (I don't even like classical art that much but that's a different story.) I like his patterns and colour, which are often vivid, he being Spanish, because to me they don't entertain speculation about "what the artist meant". I enjoy them for what they are, pure form and colour.

Besides paintings and tapestry there are also sculptures within the museum and in the grounds.

You probably have seen a Miró design even if you didn't realise it. He created a logo for the Spanish tourism board, still in use today. With economy of design he suggests what Spain is to its people and the world.

Another beautiful design is this Woman and Bird mosaic sculpture in Barcelona.

Another part of the site contains the workshop where he worked. He had many projects going at the same time; he enjoyed working that way.

There is a beautiful vista to sea from the gardens.

On the way out I drove through the suburb of Genova. It seemed to be a middle class suburb with nice views of the bay.

After that I called it a day for touring and drove back to Port Pollença to nap until dinner.

Serra de Tramuntana

The day before, while looking for parking I noted signs that said keep free for Wednesdays for the market. Oh goody, I love walking through markets and this one is in the town square almost on the hotel's front step. I got up early to check it but they were still setting up. So I had a leisurely breakfast and returned later.

The stalls in the square sold fruits and vegetables, smallgoods, preserves, and confectionery. There was a pottery staff and a flower stall. In side streets, clothing was sold. Most of it was mass produced stuff, but there were artesan stalls offering home knit goods. There were many leather stalls. I read that Mallorca has a thriving leather industry.

It was not only an opportunity for stallholders to get cash for their products but also to catch up with each other. I noticed that a cafe in one corner was the favoured gathering spot. Probably had been so for as long as people remember.

I couldn't resist buying some figs and kaki from a stall run by a couple of ladies, possibly mother and daughter, selling fruit from their garden. From another stall I bought a punnet of strawberries. I refuse to eat most Australian strawberries. They are unripe travesties of what strawberries should be.

I could have spent hours wandering the market but I had to start touring. Maybe next Wednesday. No, what am I thinking. There is no next Wednesday. There is no next time. There is only today.

About 7 km from where the mountain route peels off from the main road, it start to ascend into the Serra de Tramuntana. The road snaked up hairpin bends.  I passed many cyclists. Tough cyclists to be doing these mountains. There were so many of them that there must have been some event on.

Some 30 minutes into the trip I reached Monestir de Lluc. This is an important religious site of Mallorca. Admission was free but they charged for parking, more for tour buses. Sensible; if you come by public transport, there is no parking charge.

It is possible to stay in the monastery, though the facilities are a bit spartan and it's meant for retreat and reflection. But I noticed at the reception that you can buy Wifi access if you must.

These roof tiles were sponsored at 2€ each to replace those damaged by a storm.

There is a botanic garden of native Mallorcan plants. But it seemed to be suffering from neglect as there were no organisation or descriptions. There were no flowering plants so it wasn't that enticing visually. There were a lot of water features in the garden though.

Pressing on, the hairpin curves got more and more acute and the heights more dizzying. I took a side road. My destination was Cala Tuent, a small cove. But the road was the star of the show. At this point, the road engineers had to make the road loop back under itself to change direction by 270°. This picture is the best I could do; it was not possible to stand back far enough to capture the whole loop. A bar is under the arch for people to refresh themselves after marvelling at this feat of road engineering.

This is how the road continues downhill from there. I began to wonder if the cove was worth this scary drive. But I thought, if I don't go, in years to come I will wonder what I missed. So I girded myself and set off again.

I was glad I had a petrol car (a Chevrolet Aveo) instead of a diesel like on Menorca. The engine was more responsive and the handling was better. But I didn't like the shape of the car. The side pillars were thick, obstructing part of the view and the turning radius was larger than I'm used to.

Cala Tuent looks prettier from afar than when you get there. The beach is pebbly and there is very little parking.

The verges of the road were lined with yellow gorse, making it a colourful drive.

After Cala Tuent, I returned to the main mountain road and continued past Georg Blau, a catchment area for Mallorca, to the viewpoint of Mirador de ses Barques. There is a view of Port de Sóller from there and I recognised the cove where I had been over a couple of weeks ago. By now the afternoon haze had moved in.

It was clear that I was over optimistic about driving the whole length of the Serra de Tramuntana route in a day. I would have to do the southern half the next day. When I looked at the odometer, I had covered 250 km. Less 120 km from Palma to Port Pollença twice meant that all those bends had effectively doubled the length of the mountain trip compared to as the crow flies.

Port Pollença and Formentor

A detail on the wall of the courtyard of the hotel indicated that the building dated from 1723. It was a venerable old hotel with old furnishings and decor, but the rooms were modern. It was a welcome touch of luxury after a few days in an economy Eivissa room.

There were two grand palm trees in the courtyard. It was a haven of peace; the hotel was metres away from a busy main street. Many lodgers elected to take breakfast there. I wished I could relax longer but I had only till midday.

With an hour to spare before checkout, I made a circumambulation of La Seu, the cathedral. This time I made it to the front portal but didn't look inside. There were many tourists, some in groups, as evidenced by leaders giving lectures.

I vacated my room and left my backpack at reception while I looked for lunch. At the patisseria I bought an empanada of beef and peas, an ensaïmada with apricot and some panellets. The empanada was basically a meat pie, the ensaïmada was similar to a danish and the panellets I saved for later. I ate the first two sitting on a park bench.

Then I recovered my backpack and caught the bus to the airport. It was fairly empty at my stop but filled up at Plaça de Espanya. I arrived at the collection desk at the car park on the dot, completed the paperwork and drove to Port Pollença, at the other end of the island, but only about 60 km away from Palma.

The hotel didn't appear on municipal signs so I spent some time driving around the small port looking for it. Eventually I parked the car in the free parking lot and searched for it on foot. It was a relief to find it, I wondered if it existed. It was spanking new with all the mod cons, furnished in modern style. I was glad that worked out; it was new enough to have no reviews on websites.

Before sunset, I took a drive up Formentor peninsula. At the mirador, there were stunning views of the sheer cliffs on one side and the bay on the other.

Here's another view, of the bay. But really a couple of pictures cannot do the location justice. You'll have to ask me to show you more photos when I get home.

Then a long drive up the thin peninsula to the cape. The road was tortuous and everytime I thought surely it must be around the next corner, there were more bends up ahead. But finally the lighthouse hove into view. It was dusk by now and the light was fading, but it was a good time for dramatic pictures.

The lighthouse had commenced operation for the night. Later I could see its flashes from the port.

There were 2 other cars coming to the lighthouse after me so I was almost but not quite the last visitor for the day.

Back at the port, diners were out enjoying their meal al fresco. Some hotels even had tables on piers extending into the water so you could dine surrounded on 3 sides by water.

A small night market was running, selling mostly handicraft and tourist souvenirs.

Oh the panellets? They were yummy. They are marzipan balls with pine nuts stuck all around it. Well worth the price; about 2.40€ for 50g.

I think I did well to pick Port Pollença as my base for the last few days.

Home stretch

Time to leave Eivissa for the last inter-island hop to Mallorca to finish touring it. Iberia seemed to be having Monday wobbles in service; the flight before mine was delayed to be after mine. My own flight suffered a ½ hour delay. Well at least I arrived and won't have to fly with them anytime in the foreseeable future.

When I planned the trip, a minor but critical detail was where and when to get my clothes washed. The first juncture was in Maó where the hostal arranged it for me. This was the second juncture and I had picked out a lavanderia in Palma, even working out where to alight the bus from the airport. It was operating when I got there, the unexpected change was that there was no self-service. But they would take my money to wash and dry for me, which was even better, because I could then go for lunch.

The lavanderia was just across the street from the food market. I had lunch in a nearby restaurant but it was forgettable. The albondigas (meatballs) were padded with extender and they burnt the french fries. Really, how can anybody ruin a simple dish like that?

I asked about a box of persimmons at a stall as they were closing and the woman said no son persimones, son kakis. Hmm? I bought the box anyway and it was cheap at 2€ for 10 or so. When I got to the hotel they tasted like squishy sweet seedless persimmons. I looked up kaki and it is indeed of the persimmon family. The stall also sold the more squat persimmon I see in markets at home; they are just more discriminating in naming them here.

So that was my clean clothes problem solved for the remainder of the trip. After showering and resting, I walked through the paseo crowds to Cine Augusta to see Woody Allen's latest film To Rome With Love. I thought it was subtitled but it was dubbed. Comprehending speech in real-time was so much harder than reading Spanish, but I got the gist of the story, or rather the 4 parallel and non-intersecting stories, a device favoured by many Italian comedies, not surprising given that it was a co-production with Italy.

There were a lot of older people in the cinema causing a short queue at the box office. Perhaps it might have been for the same reason I was there: cheap Monday. But the city as a whole seemed more alive than a fortnight ago. Was it the start of the cultural season and people were going to films, concerts, and other events? Or was it the large cruise ship in the harbour injecting well-heeled tourists wanting a good time in town? Whatever the reason it was great to be in a medium sized city again rather than a provincial town.

The film ended about 2030, about right for Spanish dinner. But I couldn't work up enthusiasm for another sit-down dinner. Then I saw the prepared food section in El Corte Inglés (The English Cut, a well-known chain of Spanish department stores) which was still open, until 2130. I bought paella and a strawberry pastry to eat in my room. The paella was tasty but the rice grains were undercooked and I wasn't sure if this was normal. The pastry was yummy.

Sant Antoni de Portmany

I enjoy early Mediterranean mornings when the air is cool and the world feels clean. And in the case of a city, has literally been washed by municipal vehicles in the night. Alas, this doesn't last long; as soon the day warms up, it becomes uncomfortably hot, humid or both. And so it was this morning: after I grabbed a simple breakfast of coffee and slice of toast, on the way to the bus stand the humidity started to oppress.

I was ambivalent about visiting Sant Antoni, Eivissa's second largest town. Its West End has a large concentration of joints offering British cuisine, e.g "traditional British breakfast", so you can guess the clientele of the nearby mass tourism resorts. I figured that the clubers of the night before would be sleeping it off and I could see the town, have lunch (of local food) and escape before they woke up and never have to bump into them.

The beach is no great shakes but it is in a protected bay and sees the sunset, as it is on the west of the island.

There were advertisements of sunset excursions to Es Vedra, running everyday, but starting at 1500. I didn't really want to hang around that long. Even less so when "champers" was advertised as supplied. Foiled again in my quest to view Es Vedra.

The fountains in the waterfront promenade are pretty enough and are gathering points for locals and photo opportunities for visitors.

These automats reminded me of the ones in Amsterdam selling snacks like kroketten. The shop it was located in also sold souvenirs such as T-shirts advertising that the wearer had been clubing in Ibiza.

Another local landmark, this one in the middle of a traffic roundabout, is The Egg, to celebrate a local claim that Columbus was born there.

The town's namesake saint has a church in standard Mediterranean white on a back street. Beyond that there are no sights that require a visit.

By this time it was lunch and I was fortunate to find a restaurant serving a Spanish menu of the day. The cool gazpacho was good and just the thing for a warm day. I have always thought of merluza (hake) as the quintessential Spanish fish since it was the first fish I learnt in Spanish lessons. I was served by a serious looking old waiter. For decent cooking, and a dessert of a couple of scoops of ice-cream and a refreshment, it was a good deal at 10€.

In the evening, I elected to go to Eulària again for dinner. This time I had to be mindful of the timetable as the service was only hourly on Sundays. I had a few minutes free before departure and took a walk around this peace pool in a park.

I got there in time to join the evening paseo. On Sant Vicent, the dining street, the establishment I wanted to try was closed on Sundays, and I had just missed early bird hour at the Tex-Mex place that had decent reviews. So I went for an Asian fusion place. The starter of satay was genuine enough, and the main of pork and julienned vegetables with noodles stir fried in oyster sauce was fine, but a bit too salty. I tried their Woktail which contained vodka, Midori and fruit juice. It was tasty and didn't feel alcoholic at all but was potent all the same.

On the way back I saw a merchandise shop selling double CD sets of club compilations for 10€. What the heck, at that price, worth a try. They had hits of past years (not that I would notice). I would have to wait until I got a rental car with a CD player to start booming out club music.