Mountains and wind mills.
Sand and sensational ocean views.
Boats and roundabouts.
Palm trees, Majorcan pickles and mojitos.
Mallorca
was magnificent; a real vacation within my vacation. Although at times I found
the heat hard to bear, the sheer natural beauty of it all was breathtaking.
Getting
there was a cinch (an easy breezy hour long flight from Barcelona). It was
driving in the pitch dark along steep, narrow, windy coastal cliffs to get to
our remote hotel in Pollenca on the north of the island (so remote that our GPS
couldn't detect it) that was the tough part. Needless to say, no thanks to the
advice of the nice albeit clueless woman from the hotel who simply told us to
"go up the mountain and then down the mountain" (our running joke of
the trip) we arrived safe and sound.
We awoke
the next day to quite the sight: acres of immaculately manicured grounds
looking out onto breathtaking mountains and a beach with crystal clear
water that captured the light like a thin sheet of dilating glass. Although we were initially put off by the the
"classical elegance" of the place compared to the cool modernism of
our previous lodgings, it won us over with its unbeatable
views and first-rate food (each item offered at the breakfast buffet was pure
perfection).
Formentor (now Barcelo Formentor) really is the stuff of dreams -- a "veritable
Eden" visited by figures known the world over from Charlie Chaplin to the
Dalai Lama. Its formidable history is riddled with highs and lows,
like the dips and ascents of the surrounding cliffs and seaside waves.
We spent our days by the beach reading, collecting seashells or on our lounge chairs doing absolutely nothing. In the
late afternoon, freshly showered and saltwater-free, we'd hop into our
convertible smart car and drive to Puerto
Pollenca, a fun, lively tourist-ridden affair of a town where we ate
overlooking sailboats and listening to live music. It was
clean and comfortable there, the ideal end to each perfect day in paradise.
