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A week's holiday on Mallorca, July 2007

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Saturday 21st July 2007

I really don't like these early holiday starts - they do nothing positive for me. A taxi picked us up at six and dropped us at the station just in time to miss a train to Gatwick. Forty minute wait.

Gatwick: shopping mall were planes also take off and land. But no queues. We flew out to Palma de Mallorca on an XL Airways Boeing 737-800, which was comfortable because we had emergency exit seats.

One of our suitcases had been crushed when we picked it up off the conveyor belt, so a claim form was sought and filled out. A bus took us from the airport into Palma, then with some help from a tourist info office we found the bus stop for the bus to Sóller. But again, we had just missed one, and had to wait two hours for the next, which was a bore.

The Hotel Eden in Puerto de Sóller is very comfortable and clean, and after we'd checked in and unpacked we wandered along the road around the bay, had some cocktails in Marley's, then found a restaurant we liked the look of near the hotel. Steve had a goat's cheese salad and I had a pizza. We had a couple of drinks by the hotel pool then went to bed.

Sunday 22nd July 2007

Catching up on sleep is a holiday joy. But the first holiday breakfast never is, learning the particular customs. We survived, though.

We've sat in a café near the marina, and watched the trams - identical to the ones here on my last visit around thirty-five years ago - at the little halt.

The heat has driven us back to the hotel, and while Steve siestas, I read the Sunday times ("Printed in Madrid") on the balcony, watching the pool below, and marvelling at the roughly two-thirds of empty, German-towel-covered, sunbeds.

Later I go down and sit in the sun (at a table) and read with my earphones in, later joined by Steve.

Later still we wander along to Marley's again, stopping on the way for me to buy a long-desired leather wrist-band (I don't know why...) After a drink there - well for me anyway as Steve's on tablets - we find a seat outside a pleasant restaurant where I have swordfish and Steve has lamb. When we get back to the hotel the unnecessarily awful floor show is still going on so we sit at the back.

Monday 23rd July 2007

Wake up this morning, from a very comfortable sleep, with a cold. Bugger it, it's over thirty degrees here.

As we sit later having a coffee near the marina, it occurs to me that since the sailing holiday in the Greek islands, I have a better understanding of what goes on in a yacht marina - the comings and goings, the repairs and so on.

I burned my head yesterday, so it's strict hat-wearing today.

We wander around the little lanes high above the marina and find some spectacular views over the town, and, unexpectedly, out to a deep blue sea on the other side of the headland, over a rocky cliff coast.

In the evening it's back to Marley's then, after watching the sun sink below the horizon through the entrance to the bay, a giant shared pizza in Diablito's, and an early night.

Tuesday 24th July 2007

After breakfast we take the tram to Sóller and, just in time, catch the train to Palma. It goes through a multitude of tunnels, over high passes and through olive and lemon groves, then the industrial outskirts of the island's capital before stopping at the terminus near the bus station.

We wander the pretty, boutique-lined lanes and drink beers in a picturesque square, listening to accordion music and watching the world go by. Our goal is the cathedral, and we meander there through more narrow lanes. What a stunning building it is, a huge vaulted space with over a dozen richly-decorated side chapels - all gold and old masters. Steve sat quietly while I wandered around, somewhat awe-struck, and after a while we left and found a quiet café for a light lunch.

We caught a bus back to Puerto de Sóller, slept a little, then I went out to buy two beach towels (we forgot to pack any). I got Steve a conventional yellow and orange one, but chose for myself a black one with a white figure with a halo at the top and a red one with a pitchfork at the bottom and the legend "Good boys go to heaven. Bad boys go to Spain." Well, it appealed.

In the evening instead of going to Marley's we found a restaurant straight away, called Ses Oliveres, a little nearer, and ate there. Probably the best meal we've had all holiday. Steve started with a juicy prawn cocktail, and I hade three huge, meaty sardines. We both chose chicken for mains, Steve's with a ?????? sauce, and mine with a Roquefort sauce. A very refreshing white wine washed it all down, and we decided to splash out on puddings tonight. I had a tangy lemon meringue pie, while Steve's was a baked apple surrounded by caramel sauce and creamy ice cream.

Back at the hotel tonight's dire cabaret was all but over, and after a pina colada and renditions by the duo of ???? ????, we went to bed, and they mercifully finished.

Wednesday 25th July 2007

On the basis that "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em," Steve got up and went down just after half-seven to bag two sun loungers by putting our new towels on them before the ubiquitous Germans reserved all of them for the rest of the day, occupied or not - again. But... when I was in the shower Steve called from the balcony to say that the pool maid, for the first time, had decided to enforce the "no reserving sun beds" rule, and was collecting all the towels into a pile on the edge of the pool, and arguing forcibly with several guests.

So in order to keep our chosen loungers, we had to take it in turns for a quick breakfast while the other one guarded them.

And now Steve has gone up out of the heat of the mid-day sun for a respite in the air-conditioned room, and I've put the parasol up. The hotel's black cat is asleep in the shade under Steve's empty lounger as I (perhaps provocatively?) read a book all about the Spitfire.

I woke myself up snoring.

After yet another walk to Marley's, we decided to eat in the restaurant below the hotel as we did on the first night. I had the hot goat's cheese salad Steve had enjoyed so much before, but Steve's pizza was too greasy. We were also pestered by flies, which was disappointing.

Pina coladas, and an awful 'Elvis' before bed.

Thursday 26th July 2007

A lie-in, then breakfast, then a decent cup of coffee out, enlivened by much hooting of horns and gridlocked cars, delivery trucks and even trams, all due to an inconsiderately-parked small blue car. Workmen bounced it out of the way eventually.

Big cigarette shop, then a walk along towards the (unnatural) sandy beach along the front, and an iced coffee at Marley's. This beach is far too crowded, my idea of holiday hell. In the evening, though, it thins out, and the local youths string up nets and play beach volleyball and hang out.

We walked up the road towards the lighthouse on the western promontory, but the sun was too hot, and the twisting road too long - better saved for the cooler morning, or late evening. We did get fantastic views across the entrance to the harbour, towards the other lighthouse and the marina, and out to sea.

On the way back into town we stopped for a cool drink at a café, and then back at the hotel while Steve slept I read and listened to music on the balcony, then later enjoyed a cold beer by the pool while Steve swam. The pool was full of kids but it never seems to get too crowded there.

Nearly all of the time nearly all of the babies, children, teenagers and adults staying here are well-behaved and respectful, which makes a change from many resorts. It cannot be coincidental that a) there are few Brits here and b) it isn't the sort of resort with nightclubs and loud music. In fact, for us and what we like, it's absolutely ideal.

Tonight we decided, after the usual trip to Marley's, to eat at a restaurant we hadn't been to before, where I had some delicious perch (I'd been wanting fish all day), and Steve had large, juicy prawns. We amused ourselves making up a complicated back-story for the couple at the next table.

Back at the hotel, it was local folk dancers in national dress.

Friday 27th July 2007

Last full day here started with the amusing sight of maids repelling all attempts at sun bed reservation as they cleaned the pool surround. The Germans, though, were itching, congregating at the edge, one or two of the braver ones making daring raids through the lines to quickly spread towels on loungers.

By the time we'd come back from breakfast - and we were only there half an hour - all but two of the sixty-three sun loungers had towels on them. But, including two kids in the pool, there were only eleven people in the vicinity. Some of the towel owners might not be back near the pool until lunchtime, and that cannot be fair. Of course there are other nationalities here too, including Dutch, Belgians, French, Spanish and British, but I think there is one leading nation of sun-lounger-hoggers.

We wandered along to look at some of the boats in the marina after a coffee. Mallorca is where 'Aventura', Foxy's boat, came from, or at least where he took delivery of her, when he started his new life.

Unusually today we had lunch: pizza for Steve and a Spanish omelet for me.

I sat by the pool in the afternoon then we went to Marley's for a drink, and ate again at Ses Oliveres, where once more we were made very welcome. I had lamb chops, but Steve's shoulder of lamb just fell off the bone, and was declared delicious! As we left we were presented with a bottle of red wine by the patron, a lovely gesture.

Our timing tonight was better than usual: we arrived back at the hotel just as the entertainment was ending. New signs have appeared everywhere, taped to doors and walls: "It is FORBIDDEN to reserve sunbeds." And in German, too: "... VERBOTEN ..."

Saturday 28th July 2007

Up, showers, breakfast, pack, check out, store cases, go for a decent coffee, get too hot, retreat back to hotel for cooling drink, read paper, get cases, wait at bus stop, catch bus to Palma, check bus stop for airport bus, buy coffee, catch bus, arrive at airport two hours before check-in even opens.

Eventually our flight is listed on the screen so we check in, then queue snake-like for security, which process is hampered in no small part by protestors, who clearly have some serious beef with the airport officials, shouting through megaphones, banging drums very loudly, and blowing whistles just a couple of metres from the security staff and metal detectors, and us passengers queuing.

Once through that ordeal, with belts re-threaded and bags re-packed, we shop for (more) cheap fags, find our gate, and before too long we're on board.

But a delay: five passengers haven't turned up, and the captain has asked for their bags to be unloaded. They do turn up - to ironic applause - eventually, and I rather hope their luggage is still in Palma. We take off, with the sun already set behind the mountains to the north-west, nearly half an hour late taking a route towards France, passing over Marseilles.