Clara made a delicious paella “latina” for lunch. Then as Jacques and Jibe took their rest, we three ventured into Port D’Andratx. It seems that Spanish is one of the less spoken languages here. As we asked different people for directions to a cyber cage, most of those we spoke to, including employees in local businesses, found it easier to speak with us in English (most seemed to be German or Dutch) or in the local Mallorquin dialect.
We did find a café, however, internet being a universal word. I installed myself there and drank bottles of Perrier with lemon to justify my presence as I posted several days to the blog, chatted with Ceci and replicated my Notes files. Ralph and Clara went to the supermarket, where they did find that Spanish was spoken, and then stopped by to pick me up.
After unloading and storing all the food – a task worthy of a master puzzle solver – we decided on a route over the mountains to Valldemosa ( or Valldemossa, depending on you
r map). We started out at 6:00p.m. with the sun still strong in the sky.
The mountain road we took is narrow and winding, and a bit disconcerting when you meet a bus head on in the middle of a small town. The Mallorquis don’t believe in shoulders on their roadways, so leaving the road means plummeting down towards the sea, or into the pine forest. But the views are spectacular. You keep winding out of the shady pinelands into the sun with a view of the sea far below filling the horizon. The local construction is beautiful – all stone, of course, as the island is one big rock – but
not as rustic as might be, the stonework is quite masterful.
We passed through Estellencs and Banyulbufar – passing its famous terraces which we had seen from the sea on our way from Soller to Santa Ponza. And on we went to Valldemosa.
Valldemossa is a lovely town, quite a sophisticated tourist spot. One of its hotels is a member of the French Relais et Chateaux group. I could easily spend a vacation here exploring. Of course, Chopin and George Sand spent 3 months here back in the early 1800´s, which is still one of the town’s main claims to fame, and they were not so favorably impressed. But then, I can live without a concert piano, and services have improved quite a bit over the last 200 years. I bought Sand’s book, A Winter in Valldemosa, to see what she had to say. I so enjoyed reading Tales of La Alambra after returning from Granada that I look forward to another pleasant read to extend this
wonderful vacation. Unfortunately, by the time we arrived the shops were closing for the day, and La Cartuja, a monastery from the XIV C. until 1835 and where Chopin and Sands later occupied two of the old cells, was closed. The only activity was in a side room where they were busy hanging an art exhibit.
We walked a bit through the old streets and stopped in a corner bakery to buy hojaldres filled with spinach to tide us over to dinner. The main church of Valldemosa is also named St Bartomeu - as was the church in Soller. The town is
dedicated to Saint Catalina Tomás, who was born here, and many of the businesses and homes have ceramic plaques at the door asking for her blessing.
The café that we had stopped at was gearing up for the Spain/Russia semi-final game, lugging a huge flatscreen TV out onto the terrace, but we decided to head down to Palma to find a place for dinner where we could keep track of the results.
After a bit of initial confusion in Palma – where the streets change their names every 4 or 5 blocks – we finally found a parking spot along the waterfront avenue and began to tour the cafes and restaurants. We first entered one with a large screen and quite a crowd watching the game, only to find that the game was being broadcast in German. We passed up several other spots and chose an outdoor café which advertised Mediterranean cuisine, next door to another which had the game on. Our waiter didn’t understand several of the items on the menu – neither in Mallorquín, English or German – and we never did get our roasted peppers. But we did fine with fried squid, “pescaditos” (miniscule little fried fish), grilled provolone and mussels marinara. Each Spanish goal was cause for shouting and fireworks, and by the end of the game the street was full of cars with horns a blast, as the area geared up for late night activity.
We, however, headed back to the marina where we slept in air-conditioned bliss after watching all the replays of the goals until we knew them by heart.
We did find a café, however, internet being a universal word. I installed myself there and drank bottles of Perrier with lemon to justify my presence as I posted several days to the blog, chatted with Ceci and replicated my Notes files. Ralph and Clara went to the supermarket, where they did find that Spanish was spoken, and then stopped by to pick me up.
After unloading and storing all the food – a task worthy of a master puzzle solver – we decided on a route over the mountains to Valldemosa ( or Valldemossa, depending on you
r map). We started out at 6:00p.m. with the sun still strong in the sky.The mountain road we took is narrow and winding, and a bit disconcerting when you meet a bus head on in the middle of a small town. The Mallorquis don’t believe in shoulders on their roadways, so leaving the road means plummeting down towards the sea, or into the pine forest. But the views are spectacular. You keep winding out of the shady pinelands into the sun with a view of the sea far below filling the horizon. The local construction is beautiful – all stone, of course, as the island is one big rock – but
not as rustic as might be, the stonework is quite masterful.We passed through Estellencs and Banyulbufar – passing its famous terraces which we had seen from the sea on our way from Soller to Santa Ponza. And on we went to Valldemosa.
Valldemossa is a lovely town, quite a sophisticated tourist spot. One of its hotels is a member of the French Relais et Chateaux group. I could easily spend a vacation here exploring. Of course, Chopin and George Sand spent 3 months here back in the early 1800´s, which is still one of the town’s main claims to fame, and they were not so favorably impressed. But then, I can live without a concert piano, and services have improved quite a bit over the last 200 years. I bought Sand’s book, A Winter in Valldemosa, to see what she had to say. I so enjoyed reading Tales of La Alambra after returning from Granada that I look forward to another pleasant read to extend this
wonderful vacation. Unfortunately, by the time we arrived the shops were closing for the day, and La Cartuja, a monastery from the XIV C. until 1835 and where Chopin and Sands later occupied two of the old cells, was closed. The only activity was in a side room where they were busy hanging an art exhibit.We walked a bit through the old streets and stopped in a corner bakery to buy hojaldres filled with spinach to tide us over to dinner. The main church of Valldemosa is also named St Bartomeu - as was the church in Soller. The town is
dedicated to Saint Catalina Tomás, who was born here, and many of the businesses and homes have ceramic plaques at the door asking for her blessing.The café that we had stopped at was gearing up for the Spain/Russia semi-final game, lugging a huge flatscreen TV out onto the terrace, but we decided to head down to Palma to find a place for dinner where we could keep track of the results.
After a bit of initial confusion in Palma – where the streets change their names every 4 or 5 blocks – we finally found a parking spot along the waterfront avenue and began to tour the cafes and restaurants. We first entered one with a large screen and quite a crowd watching the game, only to find that the game was being broadcast in German. We passed up several other spots and chose an outdoor café which advertised Mediterranean cuisine, next door to another which had the game on. Our waiter didn’t understand several of the items on the menu – neither in Mallorquín, English or German – and we never did get our roasted peppers. But we did fine with fried squid, “pescaditos” (miniscule little fried fish), grilled provolone and mussels marinara. Each Spanish goal was cause for shouting and fireworks, and by the end of the game the street was full of cars with horns a blast, as the area geared up for late night activity.
We, however, headed back to the marina where we slept in air-conditioned bliss after watching all the replays of the goals until we knew them by heart.
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