Mallorca Oct 2013


In Mallorca, we stayed in a rented villa in a group of 8 villas complete with swimming pools, a motorised orange squeezer, gekkos and a rooftop terrace. Mallorca was an interesting place with its inland villages and farms; its touristy coastline where people usually addressed each other in German without even bothering to ask; its salty tap water and its oddly large (given the Spanish unemployment) large number of overseas bar staff. We searched for the perfect croquette, fed ostriches and worked on our swimming skills...

Our bit of Mallorca, in sunshine and rain

Family dinner on the terrace outside. And spaghetti...

Hanging out in Palma

Levitating Spaniard...

Natasha and Lotte at Palma Cathedral. Skull and cross bones; and a rose window...

Fish bursting from the walls, and angry clouds

No confessions here; and Jesus on a humungous chandelier

Man with bulging eyes; and stone dog that got patted rather a lot


Scarier than they look. Yes really

Scooters. Say no more

Squid in a bag, and deep in thought

We saw beautiful horses at Sydney's family's ranch

The beaches featured German tourists, jelly fish, sea weed and the odd bit of clear sand.

... beach time. Natasha and I built a gothic style castle, complete with two towers with very tall spires, and a moat. All right, Natasha mostly ate sand, and then sat in the moat. But the moat was the kind of moat (perfectly circular, with a gently sloping inlet channel and so deep that most of Natasha disappeared into it) that made other kids come over to have a closer look. And their parents, who no doubt were wishing they had similar construction skills. Or that they could find a restaurant without a menu in German. Or perhaps that they'd worn more sunscreen. There were sunburns and Germans galore at the beach in Mallorca! The post should have ended here but the best bit is still to come. Trying to leave the now-collapsed moat, the Germans and the harsh sun behind, we discovered someone had parked right behind us so we could not get out of the car park. Had our car been less bus-like we would still have been stuck. Who was the **** who owned the green battered Corsa? The waiter at the local cafe shrugged and said "aah sis happenss all the sime" and promptly moved the Corsa to let us out of what was apparently the staff car park. The only sign by the entrance to it said, helpfully, "beach".

Croquettes and ice cream!

...and the most important things. Lots of water, and good company!