1. Day, Friday
Swimming Pool of Hotel Palmira
Because we had a vacancy two years ago at Paguera we choose the Hotel Palmira just there. And in spite of the former holidays there have been remained various untertakings and I give a list of them:
We start at Friday early in the morning and drive by car to the Hannover Airport. Unfortunately the Tourist Park Area is full so we only find a place at the expensive park deck of the arrival/departure area. Swallow or gulp - the Visa Card will do it when we come back...
(Meanwhile a collegue has told me, that there are new built park decks as cheap as the Tourist Park Area. May be we are not the experienced globetrotters yet...)
So the next difficulty arises as Heidi enters the elevator and this immediately lifts off without me and the baggage. So this cannot be a great problem, I push the button and when the empty(!) lift returns I go up too. When I arrive at the departure deck there are lots of people but nothing of my wife. For I know, that in those situations every action may a be a mistake I stay at the spot and look stupidly. And after some minutes I hear some "tack tack" sounds and soon my wife comes up the stairs. She had started to search for me and so we succeeded to miss each other. Are we a little bit nearer to be the experienced globetrotters now ? We don't know...
Now as usual: check in and wait, finally you have spent more time before the flight than the flight will last itself. At last we pass the security check and of course the alarm detector nearly gets mad recording all the rings and chains, lighter and hairpins which covers the usual female equipment.
As we enter our places in the plane we find ourselves in the last row without any window to look out but in front of the toilets instead. Then we watch the pantomime of a stewardess, who explains that in the case of a catastrophe the lifejackets should be blown up outside the plane, for otherwise one would jam the exit.
We lean back and imagine the landscape below as there are Upper Rhine, Geneva and Marseille... Once they offer the breakfast lunch, which can only be eaten with pressed elbows in the narrow seats. At last we recognize the Mallorcin mountains, the plane hits the ground and many sweaten hands applaud as if this would be one of the few cases, that a plane comes down in a proper manner...
After we have got our baggage we happily recognize, that some beerdrinking fellows head for another direction, and this may be towards S' Arenal or Cala Ratjada. We enter the bus for Paguera. Some guests leave at Megaluf or Santa Ponsa and we are glad to stay in the bus. And now we have a shower of a short thunderstorm, though Mallorca suffers hard from the lack of water supply. And soon the sun is shining again.
We enter the Hotel Palmira and get a nice small room at the 4th floor to the west side with a balcony like the nest of a swallow. To enter this place you must press your backside to the balustrade and then twist around the swinging door which opens to the outside. This is a great pleasure for Heidi, who usually looks glassy if there is a height difference of some inches somewhere around. But it is a fine place and we can control all actions at the streets below. Just opposite there is Hotel NILO, and in front of this there are some lost estates of local families with garden areas, children, dogs and crying mamas. One can imagine the struggle of the inhabitants against the big spreading hotel-agencies.
Now we head for the beach to explore for the first impressions. At the beach they build at a new promenade and you can enjoy the noise and dust of active jack-hammers. In between tese activities the bathers luxuriate on their divans under sunshelters made of straw. So we feel that we rarely will have an enjoyable rest day at this area. On the other side the heavy traffic at the main road has decreased since they have completed the bypass-tunnel to Andraitx. We return to the Hotel somewhat uncertain, but than we are pleased about the pool arrangement. It is located at the backside of the hotel and some terraces are surrounded by palmtrees. Our refuge for the next two weeks?
Soon it's dinner time and we meet a couple from Hildesheim at our table. They have spent one week already and immediately start to offer various suggestions, hints and tips. As they declare, that the beach is 150 m far from here we dare to assert, that we have spent another holiday at this place already. And now in turn we start to explain and they listen in devotion.
The day is finished with some beers at the bar. Most of the people are older than we and prefer to spend their time with playing cards or knitting. The waiter seems to love music and dancing because he swings and sings among the guests. We think to have seen enough of the day and finally bring the beds in confusion, otherwise you feel like a flounder in there.
Hotel NILO and the lost estates
The morning is dull and we doubt, that we will have a fine holiday from now on. We first get some money from the post office which is some percent better than to enter one of those exchange bureaus. Thereafter we go to the beach, pull off our shoes and leave the noise and dust of the promenade workers behind. When the sun comes out we return to the hotel and enter the pool. A good book and the silence is all we need now.
But soon we prick up our ears to hear something of the conversations around. Besides us there is a triplet consisting of a lady, a cavalier with few hair but brown skin and the third: exactly looking like the German building contractor J. Schneider, who just now is searched and wanted all over the world, because he has vanished with several Millions of other people's money. The world is now seperated into "Schneider-free zones" and zones, where they think to have seen this person. "What's about Mallorca?" Of course not Schneider-free! Even the toupee of our double is in proper style like at the original. So we call those thee "The Schneider Connection".
We whisper for a while what to do when we want to get the reward for catching this exotic, but then listen to their discussion. Shall one buy a finca or an apartment? In Palma there would be an occasion. How to drive a cabrio, automatic gear or not? Another group behind us talks about the manipulation of fire rifles at a shooting gallery in the Eiffel-mountains. Somehow we cannot give any advice.
But we still have a date today: the welcome event by the tour hostess. From the catalogue we know, that we will meet a blond girl named Marita. We sit aside of two ladies from Leipzig, grey in grey both. Then the Marita arrives with a heavy suitcase and nice dressed in the suit of Neckermann-blue. She comes from Holland and remembers to Linda de Mol (Wedding Show in the TV). We may order a glass of sparkling wine and then learn, that the postcards are not to be thrown into any postbox. These will be emptied not earlier than one is full. Better to release the post at the reception of the hotel.
After dinner we walk to our former hotel Paguera and find many things have changed. They have added some new buildings so they can handle the crowds only by two dinner sessions. We are happy to return to our Palmira. But today we must participate in an event named "VANGEL-Show". This is a solo entertainer with various music instruments. But the entrance is free.
This all is presented by a Spain, who are known of their proudness? He finally misuses his pink balloon as a Scottisch bagpipe and a Swiss albhorn is blown at Mallorca... And to end this performance we all cry the typical Spain farewell-song: "Auf Wiedersehen, auf wiedersehen, bleib nicht so lange fort...".
During the night we have sweet dreams of the beautiful Spain.
The dreams wer right, we have a clear blue sky today. We start for a walk to Cala Fornells which is reached at the end of the beach up some stairs. Cala Fornells is uptown of Paguera and built by the Russian Architect Pedro Otzoup. The estates are wrinkled and nested and a pleasant contrast to the hotel-cubes at the most parts of the coastal regions. The vegetation is very cultivated too and many pretty flowers bloom. But the people living here have drawn themselves back like the snail into her house. There are no name-signs in the most cases, and if you see a sign, it tells you: Privado, Se Vende or For Sale. But one is named K. Drews, and onother Schroeder.
We end at our pool again and meet the Schneider connection. Today they discuss an air condition arrangement in a cabrio and a high-speed-vehicle named "Cigar" in the Caribian sea. Then they stick their heads together and it sounds like a planned transaction of jewelry...
After dinner we sit with our couple from Hildesheim and they tell another funny story: There are some guys running at the streets and hand out lottery scratch tickets. And as fast as you think you have won a two week vacancy at Mallorca. And the friendly guys congratulate with enthusiasm and offer to bring you by taxi to the place of your dreams. And if you agree, you find yourself a couple of miles away at a godforsaken desert where they just build an apartment configuration. And of course you should buy one of those to be sure to get back properly. And certainly you abandon the winnners-vacancy as well, otherwise you are invited to live in this godforsaken desert for a fortnight.
The rest of the evening we enjoy at our balcony, have twoo bottles of vine and watch the various dogs as they organize the street-life.
Reflecting on the story of the day before we decide to share to an advertise-tour. There is one offering for a visit of a cave and a romantic fishing village. For the entrance fee for a cave is nearly as high as the charge for the complete tour there nothing can be wrong.
Exactly at 9 o' clock we go to th place "Maria Dolores" where the participants are picked up. Before the different busses arrive some whip men come up to praise their tour. As one asks what we are waiting for we say "Valentino Reisen". "Has gone already and is full" the whip man says with the intent, to convince us for another tour. But at this moment the Valentino-Reisen-Bus comes around the corner and a young gentleman welcomes us friendly. The bus is nearly empty, but then a chorus club from Duisburg enters the bus at the Hotel Palmira Beach.
The name of the tour-leader is Max and he comes from Holland. He does not tell so much about the history and background informations as we are used to. As we pass the soccer stadion of Palma he declares: "This is the greatest stadion of the world. It is never full". Ha ha!! And at the prison: "This Hotel should have the four stars award. It is always full". Another Haha!!
We reach a former race-cycling-track in front of a factory at a town with the nice name "Sta. Maria del Cami". Our bus group at once is ordered into an assembling room and the secret is disclosed: Under- Upper- Inbetween-Bedware, Pillows and Rheumatism-Blankets are waiting for us. A large lady named Dagmar, she comes from Muelheim, but is stuck to a local Mallorcin since 7 years. She fumbles in the varius bedding stuff and praises the 100 percent natural production, cashmere and so on. She even is not afraid to strike her lighter to show that the bedding stuff is fire-proof.
The crowds have become meditative and fumble with the bedding stuff as well. But before anyone can purchase an order one of our participators proves to be an expert and declares everything as nonsense. The Mallorcin stuck lady Dagmar looks sour, but a young couple is willing to sign an order of an equipment for sweet cuddle twosome hours.
Then we enter the lower floor and there is a sale exhibition with Shoes, Clothes, Ceramics, Jewelry and Spririts. Everyone can cost the last ones by tiny glasses. These glasses are so nice, that they stick to the fingers and we finally find five (number of members of our family) of them in our pockets... Then we have lunch in a nearby restaurant and thereafter the people are scheduled by their further destination. We enter a nice double decker bus and choose the places at the first row of the upper floor. Soon some angry passengers come up and declare, that they have been sitting there before. So we have a little discussion and finally I enter the second row and a likewise compromise-willing fellow sits besides me. From now on we are peaceful.
This time a German girl named Annette leads the tour. She is stuck to a Spain husband too. She is very informative and tells a lot of stories. We pass the valley of the 1000 windmills west of Palma. Those windmills collapse nowadays but they try to restaurate some of them by national sponsorship.
We pass Llucmajor, Campos and Santanyi. At this time at noon all places are deserted for it's siesta time. And moreover the first of May is a celebration day. We are told that the siesta time is mainly used for television. And the tv-programs are overstuffed with advertising spots. The American soap series are favourites and will be discussed at the shopping hour subsequent to the siesta time. We argue about the growing world-wide uniform and monotonous cultural feeling. (An American slogan: "Television is better than your front door...").
Inside the towns and villages the streets are very narrow. At the walls and balconies of the houses you often see the reslts of a hard bus- or van- maneuver. As we pass the scenes by bus I imagine this all to be seen from the bike. And there are lots of cyclists, most of them in racing equipment rushing along in preparation for the season. We don't know, if they recognize the flowers at the meadows, yellow and white marguerites and red poppy. In this area there they cultivate fruits like Figs, Dates, Oranges, Lemons or Carob Trees with long brown eatable pods. The estates are enclosed by handmade dry-stone walls. At Pollenca there is a technical school where they teach nothing else than how to build these walls. One mere year is spent for theoretical studies only. And a studied worker than manges to accomplish one meter per day. And then remember the nunmorous hundreds of Kilometers of walls in the remote areas of the island built by the Moors (Mauren). But may be those did not visit the Technical school at Pollenca...
We then see many fincas lost and collapsed. You can buy them for a low price now but than have to invest lots of money to rebuild the ruins. But we twinkle: "This would be one for us, or that..." Anette tells per microphone that to the right we see an estate like a castle owned by a German family. Everyone looks to the right.
Now we come to Cala Figuera, a pictouresque fishing village at a small bay. Every photo you shoot here looks like a postcard. I choose a Hibiskus flower (foreground) with the old lighthouse (background). In spite of all this romance the touristic influence is not to be overseen.
We then head for Monte Christo with th famous Dragon Caves. But these will be too crowded today so we change to an exclusive guidance at Cuevas dels Halms (Dreams of an Angel). Inside the cave the impressions are overwhelming. I cannot suppress the imagination to discover and explore such a cave for the first time. The climax happens, when we reach a lower lake and soundlessly a boat with light garlands slides along. Then violines play and the boat disappears with the fading music. Many a sigh is to be heard and the observers seem to awake from a hypnotic sleep.
Twinkling we come to the daylight again. The next destination is a pearl-factory at Manacor. Because it is celebration day they only present some workers for demonstration of the production of the famous Mallorca Pearls. The main intention of the organizing company lurks in the sales room, where lots of jewelry are presented. I pull my wife to a coffee-shop.
Half an hour later the bus is complete again and can start. But only 300 m later we have to leave the bus again. But that is not so bad for another taste-test of liqueurs is waiting, about 30 different species. With sticky foot-soles one lumbers from one tap to the next. Mostly the kind of liqueur is too sweet. So it may be better to overjump this or that tap to be sure to reach the final end. As we are back in the bus, Anette tells a funny story: Once an older lady did not return in time to the bus. When they looked for her they found her at a certain tap of her choice filling a big carafe with the valuable stuff. Amused by this event they let the lady finish her work - so the company now has this story to tell until eternity.
As we are back at our hotel again, a Folkloristic Evening is still waiting. The two grey ladies from Leipzig already sit there behind their cocoa. Taday we have one male and three female actors disguised in tradidional Spanish costumes. The recorder made music is heated by own clapping of castagnettes and stamping the feet on the ground as well. And then, guess what they are shouting all the time? Yes, you are right and may apply for the Spanisch Folklore Award - they always crie "Ole!!!"
The folks watch to the show as if they were elefants.
After that strenuous day before we prefer a lazy day now. As we head for the pool we see the "Schneider connection" at the bar together with some well dressed salesman. Some open suitcases with jewelry are subject of the dealing. We with our bath towels cannot stay so long and disturb the conference, so we don't know something exactly.
Later at the pool the three appear in swim suits again but are so excited, that they stick their heads together and we do not understand anything. We guess, that they will sell the jewelry in the afternoon.
Finally they normalize and then discuss about the Supershow of Solamar at a super modern stage arrangement for some thousand visitors. A dinner is presented and then a stage show a'la Las Vegas. The busses come from all parts of the island. The one of the S.-conn. tells, that he has seen much of the world but nowhere saw such a great show, even not at the Plaza. ((?) - that's in our brain). And then he swarms: "And the horses, real Lippiziner!" Heidi cannot avoid a snuffle. "Ehem, Lippizianer" he corrects himself. But now we know things better: Lippizaner is right.
Instead of the big Las Vegian show we stay on our balcony and watch as the S.-conn. packs away the rests of their jewelry. The girl enters a callbox and calls with enthusiasm. May be they were successful.
Wednesday is the market day in Andraitx, so no discussion comes up what to do today. At the market the obligate pearl necklet is part of the program. We think to be experienced traders as we resign a price of 5000 Psts and come down to 1750 Psts. May be they still laugh at us as we have paid and leave with the pearl necklet.
At every stand you now hear the hit of the season:
Ob allein, oder zu zwein: Palma, Palma de
Mallorca, Palma de Mallorca....
You will have difficulties to get this lullaby out of your ear.
Another attraction is a gipsy woman offering a game of luck. She hides a marble under one of three hollow potatoes. Standing among the pushing crowd you should be aware of two things: watch your purse in your pockets and don't expect, that you ever find out the right potatoe where the marble is hidden.
We buy some strange fruit named "Mispel" and then return. And at the hotel we meet the Schneider connection as they prepare for the departure. May be they have finished all their transactions, cleared the profits and booked the provisions. "In 14 days we are back again" one says. We dare to offer some of those Mispel-fruits and say good bye. And we are sad, for from now on we cannot give more reports of the Schneider connection.
(Let us only tell, that the real J. Schneider an his wife was caught in Miami about 14 days later...).
For today we retire under the palm trees of the pool. For the S.-conn. has gone we must concentrate on new victims and soon are successful. There is a black-haired beauty though some artificial corrections of her physiognomy are obvious. She has a bath towel signed "Cretan Village" and we hope this is OK.
Another group in the hotel are keen sportsmen, 4 Bobsleigh artists of the Olympic or National team. During the day they cycle long distances for condition workout and are in no way interested in female involvements.
In the evening we sit with our table companions and discuss the age of the other guests. "Beneath the silver wedding there is nothing remarkable". And the couple from Hildesheim tells, that they have been divorced for a couple of years and then have "remarried" (married again). "And when the next 5 years will have gone we shall celebrate the Thirty Years' War".
My cycling day has come and the weather is fine. As soon as the shop opens (9 o' clock) I enter the store awaiting to get the hired bike at once. But no, at first they must call to someone somewhere, this someone comes along with his car and then we ride around all over Paguera. Finally we enter the right place and I get my bike, 1500 psts. the day. A short glance for control and then I start impatiently.
Soon I recognize that the front derailleur only works if you push a short step to the chain while changing the gears. But if you step too hard the chain jumps to nowhere. Another problem may be the heat of the day, but often there are pine woods and shadow. Behind Andraitx we have to climb up to 400 m height and you see the sea at the northern coast. If you want to know more about the sea views you must buy corresponding postcards.
This part of Mallorca is not so crowded and the traffic bearable. I reach Estellences and there are no ugly hotel buildings, it looks quite natural. The last village at the coast is Banyalbufar and then we turn right inland. 10 km straight on we could have reached Valdemossa but may be the tour would be too long then. This road is very remote and at the end of a high valley I come near to the Gallatzo (the Matterhorn of Mallorca - you know?). Thereafter I run zigzagging downhill again and at the village Puigpunent I enter a restaurant for a Cola. Some locals watch the TV and they may think I am a madman, who cycles around at high noon and just for fun? Some other locals stand at the slot machine or read in the newspapers.
But the mideuropean human species is somewhere between busy and hectic and so I soon roll along again under the burning sun. We reach the site named Galiläa and this sounds like a place in the Bible. And at a rock there is a small cave decorated by a crux, candles and flowers. Something to read about Lourdes, a "Surrogate Lourdes" perhaps...
The rest via Capdella is downhill and at 3 p.m. I am back at Paguera with about 70 km of a hilly route behind me. A shower bath and a jump into the pool help to refresh again.
I am not amused moreover to visit a dancing event this evening. I only agree if I am not forced to take share at the dancing activities. We watch the Bobsleigh-artists who are communicating with the black-haired beauty and another girl. Soon they all leave for other localities as there are "PupArsch" or "Rendezvous". Finally another lady at our table whispers to me: "You should at last dance with your wife once this evening!" So I must swallow the pill and try a waltz in sandals.
Someone gave us a tip where there is a fine place to swim at Cala Fornells. The beach of Paguera with the yelling stone cutting machines (FLEX) and the roaring compressors is still the wrong place for recovering. But if you walk just 30 minutes then you find at the end of Cala Fornells a smaller beach among rocks. The water is cool yet and nearly everyone in the sea uses the same declaration: "Going in is chilly but thereafter it is wonderful!" And so it is.
Caused by the surrounding cliffs here is much more natural life than at a sandy beach. You see small fishes who come into the flat zones and can be fed by bread. Small crabs sometimes come out of their shelters and crawl around. Beneath the sea surface there is much vegetation. Do you want some water-mushrooms?" two boys ask. "We just are not hungry" we say.
If you like to swim over a certain distance it is possible to surround a cliff and than reach the bay named "Cala Fornells". Now and then you will see a boat of the round trips and hear the announcers shout: "Looki looki, Romantico!!".
In the early afternoon it gets too hot because there is no shadow. We go back to the hotel end enjoy the palm trees, a coffee and some cake which remained in our pockets from the breakfast. And a new story is told. At this morning as the trainer of the Bobsleigh fellows came up, his companions applauded and cried: "Yeah, you look pretty relaxed!". Guess what this means. Let me break the secret: int the evening at the bar the trainer and the black haired beauty sit knee by knee. Be sure that they can tell each other of the numorous curves of their life...
This evening we go out to check various hotels, we play the roll of "hotel-testers". We enter places which such sonorous names like Palmira Beach, Beverley Playa or Villamil (four stars). Especially we have a look to the swimming pools, called "Arrangement" or so. We decide that our "palm garden" is the nicest.The other fact is that these big institutions buzz like a swarm of bees. At the Beverley you find an artificial grass area as "Green" with holes to practise the "putt in". Up on the roofs of some buildings there are tennis courts enclosed by high wire frames.
In the entrance hall of the Beverley we watch a grey-haired but perfectly styled gentleman who clatters with the metal plates of his bikeshoes on the marbel floor."Endurain, Endurain!" the doorman shouts with credits. "Ok, Ok" the gentleman declines. We don't know his daily activity but we know from the Bobsleigh fellows, that they head to Soller, enter the boat to the Callobra, then cycle 1000 m uphill and finally back to Paguera. So my cycle tour was a walk comparatively.
At our way back we discuss, what to do if you want to live here for ever. Heidi may run a boutique with jewelries and I sit in a proper roof garden of Cala Fornells and write a book: "The other Side of Mallorca". But my present diary-notes should be titled: "Mallorca like everyone knows it". And at this proper roof garden there is someone already and his name is Herbert Heinrich. He has written about 10 books until now, most of them desribing hire trails and curiosities of the island.
Back at our balcony we watch a negro loaded with wristwatches. Rolex etc.
We go to our swimming place again and in continuation of the last evening inspect the Hotel Coronar just there. It seems not to be quite elegant. Today I swim into the Cala Fornells again and then explore a crevice in the rocks where one can reach the next inlet. But this is a secret.
In the afternoon we stay to the pool. We notice that people just in sight of their departure are more communicative than before. So we hear of a couple as they criticize the water taps at the bathroom. "It is impossible to get your head under the tap when you want to wash your hair". "And if you sit at the toilet the bidet is just in front of you - like a puke-bowl (Kotzbecken)". May be that someone can mixup the various installations for a fast shot.
We now plan a new beauty-activity to maintain the dermal softness. Therefore you put some oil into the water of your bath and press some lemons in it to refine the matter. But better you do not wash your hair in this stuff. And better to dry your skin by air afterwards, for the towels must be renewed otherwise. And watch the lemon snippets to be found at known and unknown parts of your body. And finally there will be some work to get the bat tub clean again with soap and toilet paper... But your skin will feel soft for the next couple of days!
The day is not over yet, some sensations are still waiting. The promenade at the beach will be initiated today. They have built a stage for the speeches of officials and the music presentation. The speeches have begun and in spite of our lack of knwledge of the Spanish language it is just the same as everywhere: everyone praises everyone and finally enjoys the applause. There are various patrons who sponsored the pneumatic hammers and compressors to build the new promenade. Moreover they have planted a row of palmtrees just at the beach. The palm-leafs are bent together to prevent, that the treetops get dry. We guess, that there are a 100 liter of water per tree and day necessary for watering as well.
We leave this scene and walk on the brand new promenade. There is a couple behind us and the husband criticizes the shaking covers of some gullies. "May be, the covers don't fit" he states. He must be an expert, we think. As the music bands start with their roaring music we go back to our hotel where a "Flamenco Evening" is announced. Heidi orders a Sangria and I get a Spanish beer, cheaper than the German "Bitburger".
The show has begun already and we must describe this initial scene: a small male dancer suited with a frill shirt (Rüschenhemd) and narrow black pants steps forward, closes his eyes and concentrates, his armes crossed. Then he stamps some tacts with his feet but suddenly recognizes, that the music has forgotten to start properly. So let's try for another time - concentration and then - slowly - stamping around and finger flipping - increasing the speed but not too ecstatic, the show has just begun yet. So the applause is sparse and the little dancer retires behind the bar to smoke a cigarette.
Now three Spanish Signoritas come up. One of them is racy. The next is blond haired - is she stuck to a Spain as the many others? And the third is a Signora, corpulent but with the most temperament of all. They use these clapping pieces of wood, named castagnettes. Finally we are glad, that there was no entry fee and the prices were as usual.
I climb up some rocks to look for the boat and suddenly see a helping hand in front of me. So I get known to an Irishman. For he is "critically red on his skin" he puts on his shirt and we have a refreshing small talk. As I tell him that we like to go to Ireland some time he answers with a unintelligable cascade of speech containing the words "Munich", "Golfclub" and "Jockeys".
I go back to my wife who just has disposed to the wrong queue meaning
We enter a place besides the capstan (Ankerwinde). In a nonchalant manner one of the workers drills up the anchor and onother cries - we don't know why - "Macho Man, Macho Man!" But he better should have concentrated on his rope, for the boat is started already and he has not loosened the fixing yet. So the boat must stop and we wonder how expertised the crew may be.
Soon we have proper speed and pass Cala Fornells and Cala Munjo. A naked man sends his greetings from above. Laughter everywhere. We surround Cap Andritxol, a cliff of 200 m height. Somewhere you can see the rest of former caves with stalagtites and rotten limestone (mattock, Karst). Then we reach Camp de Mar and Porto Andraitx. There is a brown house up above the slope and the announcer declares: "House of Claudia Schiffer". Everyone looks uphill but no blond Loreley comes up. And no flying David (Copperfield).
Bit we think the isle of Dragonera is much more interesting. This is a huge cliff, which is sloped from the south-east up to 300 m height and on the other side nearly vertically falls down to the sea. We slide under the jagged rocks and every climber would have his fun. But this is natural reservate and protected of all kinds of sportsmen. We then enter a narrow grotto and the motor is stopped. "Machin kaputt" they say. The cameras click and there is an echo too as you may imagine.
The motor is started again and some distance away the next sensation is to be seen and they shout: "Looki, Looki, Pinguin, Pinguin!!" A gang of cormorans sits around, from time to time inspecting the fishing grounds below. 300 m higher some falcons hang in the air. Then we surround the rest of the island and on the other side see Cala Brasset, where we have been two years ago. We stop at Telmo where the workers try to make a better landing now.
One hour for a restaurant and a cappuccino. A group of divers at the shore is busy to sort all there stuff. As the hour is over we enter the boat again, and the "Macho Man" does his work with a lolly-icecream between his teeth. Another meditative guest stands aside me. "Where does all the salt in the sea come from?" he asks. "From the sweat of the swimmers " but I do not dare to say this. So I murmur something of salt deposits which are washed out during millions of years. "Yes may be, hundreds of years" he argues. And the rocks if they are Basalt or Granite? We come to the agreement: Lime- and Sandstone.
At Telmo a car driver has delivered the photos from the start. But Heidi and I are are not ready for Holiwood. She looks somewhat agonized by the climb on the gangway and my face in the background is shadowed by the baseball cap. So we resign to pay 600 Psts. for this. Snoozing we absolve the rest of the tour and thereafter hurry to the hotel to get to the dinner in time.
We have new commensals at our table, a decent couple from Wittenberg, Elbe. Thy have their first greater journey after the "Wende" (German Unification). They know the Black Sea, Krim or Petersburg from former times, but "Lüneburger Heide" and the German Alps must be explored from time to time now. We recommend our boat trip and some days later they participate there and enjoy it too.
This evening w go shopping to buy a certain dental-cleaner which is sold in every shop at home. But here we can get toothpicks, sanitary towels, cleaning kerchiefs for eye glasses or preservatives. We get the desired stuff at a pharmacy shop the next day.
And a last view down from the balcony: the black-haired beauty goes out for new adventures...
Let us have a lazy day. In our newspaper (Bild-Zeitung) you can read: Mallorca, 28 deg. and I say: "I would like to be there". A girl aside laughs. Then we visit the Hotel Nilo where Heidi's brother and his wife are used to spend their vancies. We buy a postcard and then get lost in the labyrinthine corridors. We should not be so inquisitive all the time!
When the weather is not so fine you must look for adventures around the pool. This time there only stays a hen-party of 6 ladies from the Rhine-area and they dissipate in luxury of their Canasta cash box. We look for something to read and therefore we inspect all cupboards at the corridors of our hotel. It's usage, that the guests deposite their newspapers and brochures after having read them for new readers. And so you find not only newspapers but such interesting booklets titled:
With the new swimming trunks we head for our swimming bay again.This time I swim to a rock edge and explore a wreck of a boat at a cliff. At the waterline there are curious red spots looking like rubber plugs. And sea urchins with spiky spines hard as stone. As I look at the ground of my standing place I watch fields of sea urchins around, I have hit by fortune the only sandy place. I get goosebumps and carefully retire from this place. The red spots at the cliffs are sea-anemones.
Back at our place we watch a man of Cologne who is proud to have won a bet to go swimming once in his holidays (unfortunatel I cannot translate the dialect of his language). Another lady form Cologne too feeds the fishes with bread. "They do prefer cheese" she states. Then she collects some crabs to arrange a race. Behind us settle two Swabian girls and tell the story of their life to each other. It's funny here...
This evening we visit the apartement settlement Esmeralda high above Paguera near the forrests. A big wall surrounds everything and the inhabitants are tight hermetically. The private estates at this area don't look too pretty and many are signed by "Se Vende".
The last day before the last, one cannot believe how fast the second week runs away. We have another nice time at the bay. But this time I get an occlusion of one ear perhaps caused by the waters. At home one usually goes to the doctor and let the ear occlusion blow off. If nothing is done it is very nasty, for the stereo-sense of the hearing is restricted. After various "Whaaat?" and "Wheeere?" I decide to help myself. I fill some soaped water into the ear, most of it pouring over the eye glasses, and then swing the small finger as fast as possible in the ear. And when you hear a smacking sound the ear is free again and you feel like new born.
In the evening we walk to the back of Paguera where the wilderness begins and various odd paths lead to various odd directions. So it is understandable, thet a couple of those planned ventures as enumerated at the beginning of this report have been skipped. It is very dangerous to walk and climb in the mountains alone, a sprained link can grow to a serious problem. (Nowadays we have the handy generation and such a problem may be solvable).
A last glance of our balcony: the back-haired beauty has a new cavalier, this time someone who starts early in the morning for his backpack-tours, but the evening is long and the night is even longer...
Rain at the Departure
Our last dinner is disappointing, a paella with many shivered bones. A final walk to the beach and we see high waves rolling from the sea. Two boys in diving suits try to surf on the waves, but as there are too many observers they are too nervous and steadily fall into the spume.
At the next morning the bus picks us up, three hours before departure. At the Hotel Galatzo the bus driver works hard to climp up the narrow driveway by the reverse gear. As the only guest appears this declines and puts his golf equipment into the car boot of his leasing-car.
At the airport the last impression of the Tramuntana Mountains and the 1000 rotting wind mills and then the Mallorcin paradise is left behind.