Don't forget your sunglasses

Today's posting of Weird Weekends takes me to the holiday Isle of Majorca, somewhere I hadn't been surprisingly, since the Summer of 1987. In fact I hadn't even been to Spain since that holiday with Kev Riding and Graeme Morris. This I put down to discovering the many delights of the USA the following year, and subsequent aeroplane trips were spent going further and further afield. Spain just dropped off my radar. It's only in the recent years that I've started taking trips, once again into Europe. This has largely been due to the availability of budget airline flights which meant that eventually a trip into Spain was inevitable, and that's why I found myself squinting into brilliant sunshine and bathing in the pleasant warmth of a Spring, Balearic Saturday morning. Unfortunately I had stupidly left my sunglasses in the car at Liverpool airport so squinting, with a rather unattractive Mr Magoo face (remember him?) was to become something of a feature for the next 48 hours !

Now Palma airport for all it's good points doesn't have the best public transport links. It does appear that most people arrive on package tours, are met my chirpy, clipboard wielding holiday reps and escorted to fleets of coaches for onward transit to their chosen hotel. Independent travellers like me, have to make do with either cripplingly expensive taxis or the local bus service. I seldom travel on buses for one simple reason. I don't know what bus to catch. I also don't know what route they take or how I'm supposed to know when I've arrived at my stop. For this problem to materialise, you don't need a trip abroad, you just needs a bus ! So here I was, both abroad.....and on a bus, with no idea when to get off. However, I did get the feeling that all of my fellow passengers were in the same position as me. Each of us had hopped on at the airport and we were all waiting for someone to recognise when they'd arrived and get off. This would then be the cue for the rest of us to also get off. It became a battle of wits as to who would crack first under the pressure. The little Japanese lady opposite me was my personal choice as with each stop, she'd look around nervously to see if anybody else was getting off and on a couple of occasions would even gather her bags and attempt to get up from her seat before losing all confidence and sitting back down again. Then, almost un-noticed a small man of advancing years could take no more and displaying a sprightly turn of foot, leapt up and exited the bus at the very last moment, spreading panic amongst the rest of us as the hydraulics wheezed that familiar "shhhhhhhhh" and the doors closed firmly behind him. The next stop brought a stampede of leavers but I held firm for a further 2 stops but finally gave in and left the bus as the blue waters of the Mediterranean proved too inviting.

Palma is not only the largest city in Majorca but is also the largest in the Balearic islands. The airport in Palma is one of the busiest in Spain and handles an astonishing 19 million travellers per year. The port is a magnet for cruise ships and two enormous ships were docked whilst I was there. The marina is pretty and contains numerous vessels from the 'run of the mill' sailing boats to the tourist catamaran ferries through to the privately owned, multi million pound super yachts. All of them sparkling in April sunshine as they gently bobbed in the calm waters of the marina.


As it was only 9:30am when I exited the bus, it was too early to check into the Hotel so I went exploring for several hours. The marina and port area of Palma was lined with Palm trees, beneath which a cycle and pedestrian path hugged the marinas wall. There were numerous cafes, restaurants and bars, all of which looked very inviting and had panoramic views of the marina and the expensive toys tied up alongside. There was a definite holiday atmosphere to the area and it was hard to believe, as I wandered along the path in warm sunshine, that only 3 hours earlier I had been in a cold and windy UK, driving in the rain under night cover.



It took me over an hour to walk the length of the marina and I eventually found myself in the Old Town of Palma. This, in keeping with most European old towns, was a myriad of narrow lanes with cobbled streets and thick, stone walled houses. There was the obligatory sight of wizened old men in flat caps and pork pie hats sitting on walls and benches doing nothing in particular. The highlight of the Old Town is the Gothic Cathedral that dominates the Palma Bay skyline. Completed in 1601, having taken an astonishing 371 years to build - although the bell tower is still unfinished even today, the cathedral overlooks the Royal Almudaina Palace and the city of Palma in general. It's visible for miles around, especially at night when the building is lit and stands out like a lighthouse for both landlubbers and sailors to see.

I wandered around the Old Town for a couple of hours, squinting and sweating as I went. Progress was slow due mainly to the oppressive heat which made walking hard work, especially as I was still wearing my UK '4am start on a cold April morning' clothes. I realised that I really should have left my sheepskin coat at home, as the temperature board on the office building across the road, read 24 degrees !



After many drink stops and general sitting down to people watch, I noticed that my head was getting rather sore and realised that my fair skin was burning. As my hair has lost interest over the years and left me for good, my head has newly exposed skin with each passing summer and this turns beetroot red and burns much quicker than the rest of my body. This was clearly one of those moments. I elected therefore to head towards the hotel to check-in and then participate in one of the great Spanish traditions, the siesta.

My hotel was excellent, and at £43 per night - even at a poor Sterling to Euro exchange rate - was superb value for money. I had a balcony with a sea view, mini bar, air conditioning and Liverpool v Fulham was live on the telly albeit with a Spanish John Motson doing an overly enthusiastic commentary. This was going to be a very pleasant siesta.... and indeed it was. I woke several hours later feeling refreshed but sunburned and then just sat on the balcony drinking a beer and watching the many ships and boats in the bay as the sun went down. The view from my room is shown below.


The evening was glorious. Warm with very little breeze. I went out for dinner and to do some night photography. The cathedral looked amazing in the distance, all lit up and under a perfectly clear sky and a full moon. The boats in the marina looked warm and inviting, various groups were having dinner on their respective decks and the night was filled with the sound of clinking wine glasses, cutlery and much raucous laughter. I spent around 2-3 hours soaking up the ambiance and just watching the World go by before eventually retiring to the hotel and subsequently, bed. I'm sure that the resorts of Magaluf and Palma Nova a few kilometers up the coast, were more lively on a Saturday night but at this precise moment I was very content with life.





I'm guessing that most visitors to Palma head for the beaches in their airport coaches, under the guidance of their chirpy reps and therefore only pass through Palma itself on the way to and from the airport. However, they really are missing a pretty city, small enough to walk around but large enough to fill a weekend. If you fancy a couple of lazy days away in almost guaranteed sunshine then Palma should definitely be on your list of places to go.... Oh and don't forget your sunglasses !

Things I've learnt this week:-

1. That sheepskin coats are rather unnecessary in hot sunny climates
2. That sunglasses are very necessary in hot sunny climates and should, in no circumstances, be left at the departure airport.
3. That squinting for 2 solid days leaves white lines all around your eyes which look stupid when you get home with a suntan.

Until the next time.