1. Day, Friday

OK, until now this was not our way to perform such a touristic kind of vacation. You enter a tourist office, - what's available, please? - yeah, let's fill out a certain form, make an insurance for cancelling the journey, pay some money in advance and all at once we have a holiday at Mallorca in our pockets, hotel, demipension and flight inclusive. And if you compare the cost to an offer at a German site - e.g. the isle of Sylt - you realize, that Mallorca is much cheaper.

But what's about the image of a Mallorca-vacation? They call Mallorca the "Isle of the charwomen" (Putzfraueninsel), and everyone tells you, that he was there already. 7 millions of tourists per year swarm over this island, where they overbuild the countryside, where one lazes around at the pool and sips his drink, where they dance through the nights in the discoes...are we right there? But everyone, who was there ensures, that there is a nice landscape and an alternative kind of holidays possible. OK, let aus enjoy the mediterranian climate, the flowers and the sun.

We can start at good friday, the flight is at 5 am, so we have to rise at 2 am in the night. As we ride towards Hannover by car we meet an endless chain of lights in the opposite direction. In the broadcast they speak of 50 km traffic jam towards Berlin. Where do all these folks want to go to at dead of night? But we can reach the airport without trouble and deposit the car for the next 14 days at the tourist-parking-site. Outside it is rather cold so we wear warm clothes suited for winter temperatures. We put our luggage on a carriage and cross over to the main building of the airport. This is very sleepy yet, someone is yawning behind a broomstick, another tries to build up a pyramide of drinking glasses but soon has to attempt to handbrush and shovel.

Will we meet lots of friends, neighbours and known people during this journey? I can say in advane: no. With one exception, for there is a twin pair of clerks employed at one of the bike shops at Braunschweig. They have two well painted pussies on their coat-tails looking forward to eventful easter activities on the island of their dreams. We start to check in and try to perform this in a gentle and professional fashion.

So let us discuss the identifier-labels at our suitcase. These have come from our travel bureau named Berg and Dörr. The organizer of the journey is Sun World Tour. The broker is Bucher Reisen, Düsseldorf. But the labels are printed for LTU-Reisen. On the other hand the airline we fly with is Hapag Lloyd. Don't care about, we check in without problems and pass the security control, where they roentgenize clothes and handbags. Fortunately none of the passengers wears a Kalaschnikoff or a handgrenade under his coat. Until the flight can start we have to wait in the security area and watch a gentleman yawning hard. He would have needed both of his hands to cover his mouth, in consequence he uses none.

Finally we can enter the plane and sit just one row behind the bike-twins and their pussies. The boys have cotton plugs in their ears and insist to sit side by side, framed by the girls. The plane takes off towards Braunschweig, where we just have been some hours before. Some time later near of Frankfurt the final height of about 10.000 m and speed of 800 km/h is reached. The breakfast is served and some entertainment is presented by video. Especially a certain Mr. Bean is amusing by doing gymnastics at a 3m spring board characterized by his acrophobia, finally ending in an unskilled fall. Heidi usually suffers with acrophobia too, but not today at her place at the porthole-like window for it is dark yet.

As it gets bright we are above the Mediterranean Sea already. In Palma it is a little bit foggy, so the captain informs. We pass a jagged rock cliff and to the left watch the island of Menorca. Then the approach for landing begins and we come down with a little crash. Some people clap their hands, may be these are the cowards (Angsthasen). At the next day we can read in the newspapers, that the airport of Palma was closed at tis time caused by the fog. So I still ask how we have managed to touch down then...

After the baggage has come by the assembly line we look for the information desk of Sun World Tours and get the information to enter the bus no. 244 heading for Paguera. We just have sit down in the bus when we are called again. May be we are the millionth guest and get a gift for this? But no, it is because the wrong labels on our baggage: we shall change to another bus. So we have to prove by the bill that we have purchased at Sun World Tours and are legal passengers. Finally the faces of the other passengers turn away from us and we can sit down again.

The bus rides at the highway to Palma. So the first impression of this island is not so picturesque. Industrial sites, building sites, slumlike residental zones and a lousy traffic everywhere. At Palma Nova the first guests leave at various hotel-arrangements. Sometimes we think that we do not want to be buried there. Now the bike-twins have reached their destination and easily carry their travellingbags, while the pussies grown upstairs under their heavy suitcases. I am sorry, but from now on we cannot tell more details of this romance.

At Santa Ponsa many guests leave while we see places like Aqua Paradise or Marine Land with large parking areas around. Finally the last town is Paguera, located at a large bay surrounded by hotels everywhere. One of these is our destination: Hotel Paguera and we are suspended at this place.

Clothed by our winter-suits we climb up the stairs to the entrance. There is much turbulence at the entrance hall, lots of baggage of in- and outgoing guests stand around. People wearing swim suits, bermuda shorts or otherwise barely suited head outside towards the beach or the swimming-pool. This is a turquoise shining somewhat at the courtyard of the hotel. In our winter suits we now do not feel like professional globetrotters. In the future we will be amused by warm suited newcomers as well.

We have 9 o' clock meanwhile and we have arrived at Mallorca, while the can of coffee still stands on the breakfast table at home (let us hope Annika will clean the table). We cannot enter our room for it's too early. So we start for a first investigation walk, of course we change to a summer-outfit before. Hotel Paguera is located at the upper part of Paguera at a silent area and vis a vis to the adjacent nature. Down at the main street you nearly get crazy by the dense traffic roaring right through the city. A bypass is just now under construction. In spite of the celebration day (good friday) the garbage collectors and clean services are at work.

Beneath the main street we find the beach and success in listening to the rushing of the waves. We sit among the bathing people on a wall and admire the turquoise-coloured sea, the waters are clear like glass. Above the bay at the left we see the dense buildings of Santa Ponsa. To the right the bay ends with the Cap Andritxoll which is in it's virgin state without building sites. Now we do not feel bad dozing in the sun.

Finally we feel hungry and enter a small street-restaurant for a pot of herring (Heringstopf). When we have 12 o' clock we return to the hotel, enter our room and get suitably dressed. Soon we start the next observation walk. At the hotel Mar y Pins we climb up a staircase and find ourselves in a strange looking housing area. After we have seen so many nasty hotel buildings until now this is an astonishing diversity, wrinkled houses with balconies and terraces all placed at the cliff line high above the waters with beautiful views to the shining sea. Finally we find out the secret of this project: it is named Cala Fornells and built during the early 70s by a Russian architect named Pedro Otzup. (In the late 90s the same architect will build a house for the German model Claudia Schiffer at Camp del Mar). Later we will see some similar settlements, where they have tried to reproduce this style (Esmeralda, Santa Ponsa, Porto Andraitx). It is possible to inspect prototype homes or just to buy an appartment. Fortunately the bureau is closed today, otherwise we have been lead into temptation after these few hours at this island.

Thereafter we return to the hotel and assemble ourselves at the pool enjoying the sun in the afternoon. And this is the stereotyped idea: to lie at the pool and get the drinks from the tablet of the waiter. We call the smart looking steward "El Ballancero", for he likes to let his tablet rotate around a single finger. But the main cause for this place is, that there is some shelter from the wind in opposite to the beach, which looks not so clean and there you are accompanied by dog and cat. And what a nice contrast after this nasty cold morning at home...

The first dinner-buffet is impressive, but it is usual, that the impression decreases with ongoing time. You can have salads, some warm dishes, often a fish-meal, and finally, the best: a dessert of fruit-salad or icecream. After dinner you should go out for a while to relieve your belly. But be aware that darkness comes at 8.30 pm and faster than we are used to.
 

2. Day, Saturday

The morning comes with dust and a certain noise. We find out that on the palm tree at our balcony there is the night-quarter of a crowd of sparrows. And they use to to host a conference there in the evening as well as in the early morning. From the sound intensity you can imagine, that highly important things are discussed there... But in the morning we are too sleepy to join this discussion. And we don't speak the Spain language... To get awake you better go to the pool or swimming hall.

The breakfast is not so fine, you have to brew the teabags yourselves. The coffee is undrinkable but the Cappuccino is fine. A three-minutes-boiled egg pours down from the spoon, better stay to a "five-minutes-boiled" egg. Sometimes you get fried or scrambled eggs with bacon.  And there is a delicious cake, which is well suited to be packed in some serviettes and to vanish in the suitcase. The day is long...

For there is no sun we go downtown and look for the shopwindows among the roaring traffic. And we hear a nice dialogue between two elder ladies. The one: "I suppose it's rather expensive here". The other: "But if you calculate the exchange rate it is cheap". We would like to hear more of this...

What to do now, the few streets of Paguera are soon observed. There is a remarkable sentence to be read in a certain paper:

"The wrinkled streets of Paguera remind to the Arabian part of the old town quarter of Jerusalem"

We think there is someone wrong... At a bus stop we chat to a tourist-couple and they tell us from the neighbour-town named Andraitx. Just at this moment a busarrives  heading for Andraitx so 15 minutes later we leave this bus at Andraitx. This town is located at a fertile plane where they cultivate almonds (Mandel), olives, figs, carobs (Johannisbrot), orange- and lemmon-trees, just as everywhere at Mallorca. The town looks ancient, there are no hotel-buildings which spoil the scene. It's curious that the shutters (Fensterläden) are closed, may be they try to keep off the heat from their rooms. We go up to the church, the door is closed, but we have a nice view towards the sea with Porto Andraitx. After some scenic lanes we find the pedestrian path to Porto.

This path meanders through the orchards and small estates. You can study the spanish way of life on this route. Now you will watch the typical dry stone walls which have their origin in the period of the arabian occupation earlier than year 1000. These walls were built to generate plane terraces at the slopes and to prevent soil erosion. The trees are full of oranges and lemmons, so you can buy these fruits very cheap at the shops. And it is a much better quality than the imported stuff at home. We find a broken stick of a lemmon tree at the ground, so we have the occasion to fill some pockets. One fruit as probe - very very sour.

The greater estates are named Finca. Many Germans have bought such home, besides the money you need much time, be a self-employed people like an artist or writer or be a retired person. We fulfil none of these requirements. "If you live here you have to clean the windows as well as at home" I say to my wife.

Thinking about all this we have missed the right continuation of the path and all at once hit to the main street. So we have to walk for half an hour with the traffic. Once I cross the street with danger of life to get a photo of an old rotted well. As we reach Porto we watch the sky which is blue and the bus stop, where a bus soon takes us back.

During the afternoon you will find us at the pool. There are many observations to be made. We have a funny start: some meters away there lies a sweating gentleman on his back. As he once rises to sit upright, a plastic bag sticks to his wet backside and he doesn't notice this matter. But Heidi does and she has to use a towel to suppress her unsecret laughter. Some time later the gentleman remarks the thing at his back, puts it away and looks at us with suspicion. Some places apart there is a round looking man and we name him the spheric Spainiard. He is very skilled to roll over on his couch if he wants to change front and backside. As he gets asleep the sound of snoring and other human tones come up. Heidi suffers from her laughter and we will see later: this will have consequences one day.

After some time I get asleep myself and thereafter have a pretty red skin. Heidi uses her sunlotion and prefers to tan. Let us continue some observations. A lady looks like a known person at home and we name her Mrs. H. She has a husband with her, who is somewhat oddish but en vogue regarding the swim-fashion. His swim suit is let us say backless for the rear part of it consists in a thread or something like that. At dinner this couple sits two tables from us and they greet to us - no only she, he is too oddish. But he is very busy with his salad. He fills one spoon with oil or dressing, sticks some kind of green stuff on his fork and than simultaneously leads spoon and fork to his mouth. We have a new name: the two armed shovel.

Pleas excuse me to tell about other persons in such way. But believe me, it is worth to be told and part of the experience. May be someone else has observed our behaviour himself and called us the two lighthouses? So let us introduce some more funny people. At first let us discuss the Pill-Granny, who is nearly unable to carry all her medicine when she arrives for dinner. On the other hand no one is sure to be contacted by her and soon must be willing to hear the whole story of her life... Sometimes we catch a fragment of this stuff: she has worn out two husbands who peacefully lie under the earth...

The tourists are attended by young ladies recognizable by their dispatch cases, neckerchiefs or brooches. So my wife gives the command to clear the situation concerning the identifier labels for the suitcases. "Are you concerned with Sun World Tours?"  I once ask one of these tourist-angels. "No I am from Neckermann" is the answer and so I can rush back to my wife. From now on I content myself with watching the ladies from a secure distance, when other guests clear their reclamations. In a local newspaper we find a collection of curious reclamations. So it once happened, that a man confused after some drinks did not enter his room with his wife but another room with another wife. And the other wife did not realize the mistake in time - so a reclamation was stringent.

But we have no reclamation. Only a proposal: if every guest would be signed by an identifier label of his travel organisation everything would be easier to handle (Nowadays the guest gets a day-and-night-wristband if he is member of a club-vacancy "all inclusive" arrangement...).
 

3. Day (Easter-) Sunday

Until now we have not seen our table companions (commensals) at breakfast. But they mus exist, because we always find some grains at the table. And we - sorry again - have the name: corn-biters.

This day we head towards Santa Ponsa passing institutions like Beverley Playa or Hapimag. Hapimag is a concern where one can buy stocks for the demand to use certain apartments worldwide.

We have a nice view to the bay of Paguera and Cala Fornells. The crisscrossing path winds it's way through the brushwood and finally ends. We pass a tennis-court where some folks volontarily turn to sweat. Back in the town we admire the shopping-donkey, who is loaded with souvernir-stuff but stands without any motion. May be he is stuffed? But once he bends one of his rear hoofs in an elegant manner on the kerb stone - so he must be of real life. I resist to take a photo for the owner of the donkey looks so moneygrubbing.

In a side road there is a small atelier of a painter who looks somewhat miserable, but perhaps this must be to believe him to be an artist. The paintings of landscapes look somewhat opulent, the portraits of persons may be more realistic.

At the shore some other dark individuals carry on their business. One offers wrist-watches, discretely wrapped in paper. "Smuggling watch, Rolex, very good occasion"... Others dispose invitations for various shopping-events. Some seem to be quite interesting and the excursions are much cheaper than those offered by professional agencies. Let us refer later on this fact. Another attraction would be a trip with a glass-bottom-boat. For this day we return to the pool.

Today we observe an older man, who looks like a famous German comedian in one of his best characters as an old growing hunterman. So his name will be Loriot. He suffles with his old slippers to his couch, moves it over right into the sun and finally he himself finds the right position with rised legs and head. A last a wave to Mum up above at the balcony and now there is the world behind... Some time later Mum comes down from her balcony and settles besides her husband. But our Loriot awakes, gets his stuff and hurries to another couch far away from his Mum. We can speculate for a while again.

In the evening at the dinner table we finally meet our table-friends, a couple from Bremen. But they are not talkative and look with disgust while we dimantle our codfish. Hastily they drink their water and soon hurry away. "What was this?" Heidi asks, but I don't know myself (Later they were normal like usual persons). After dinner I walk alone to inspect the bushes behind the hotel. You are immediately in the wilderness, climbing small uphill paths. I see a nice mountain nearby, may be one can find a way up there. But not today, I reach the valley where the bypass road will lead through and then I must return before it gets dark.

In the bar of the hotel tonight they will present a Travestie Cabaret. We think that is not our taste. Most of the guests like those parties very much like Bingo- or Dancing-Evenings. The organizer of these events is named Paco. Similar parties are held downtown. At a disco-bar named Club Hawai you get a chain of paper flowers round your neck. The more courageous people can disguise as a bull and fight against another courageous torero. But both must be on roller skates...
So to be seen from the photographs, for we never get a foot int one of those etablissements. Other restaurants offer the german soccer games by television. And then you can hear the shouting at Mallorca when there is a goal in their home country far away...
 

4. Day (Easter-) Monday

Perhaps one of those shopping-excursions today? You only have to stay to the entrance of the hotel and soon someone will pick you up. We meet another couple who have purchased a tour already. Fine, we simply join the party - and it works. You can read in the papers, that the business community of Mallorca is not amused of these activities for there are drawn too many people from the shops and restaurants.

We are introduced by a lady named Erika from Rosenheim, Germany, and she speaks with a Bavarian accent. She gives a lot of hints and informations concerning the sightseeings along the route. One of the most famous stories is that of the Aragonian king Jaime I. who conquered Mallorca from the Moors obsession in the year 1229. Relaxing of his heavy work after an opulent meal he is told to have said: "I have dined superb" which is "Bendinat" in his language. Since then the name of the castle where all this happened is "Bendinat". And remember this Jaime Premero who often gives his name to hotels, estates, golfsites etc.

We pass the central agricultural planes of the island. To the left you see the mountains of the Sierra de Tramontana. We pass towns named Santa Maria del Calmi, Binisalem or Inca. Near Sa Puebla the net of the spider is spanned. We enter a finca which is an advertise center. We come into a room with cake and sangria on the tables and at the backwall you see -- mattress, pillows, bedding stuff. That's it.

And there is a smart solo-entertainer already, named Dieter and he came from Bielefeld about 7 years ago. He does not tell us, if he was busy with his bedding stuff all the time. At the very beginning one of the beds breaks down for a plank was not fixed correctly. The "bedding-Dieter" then puts a piece of ice under a feather-bed (but there are no feathers in there). The interest of the people meanwhile has turned to the cake and sangria.

So Dieter starts his recitation against all kind of feather-beds in support of the beddings filled by the wool of sheep. Rheumatism, pain, allergies, heat and sweat... all this is caused by the feather material. "But "- and the sun rises in Dieter's somewhat washed out face - "with these breathing wools of the lambs you get rid of all your trouble". Fine and some people look at their watch. This was a mistake for Dieter harshly shouts at them like a teacher at school. But the people don't care and leave the room. "This is too much private" they say. So let us end with this episode as Dieter gets the piece of ice back from the bed. The isolation of the bed has kept the piece of ice intact. No one dares to ask: "And what's about ice-cold feet under that stuff?"

After that a tombola is held while Dieter and some assistants try to find someone who buys something. From their physiognomy you can read that there was not such great success.

Finally we all sit in the bus again and await the coming sensations. At first we learn, that the chapel nearby was used for the wedding of the famous singer Peter Maffay. Tourists like such stories. We now ride to Bunyola, a dreamy town at the feet of the Sierra de Tramontana. We can walk around for a while and then enter the famous nostalgic train from Palma to Soller. The most spectacular part is that from here to Soller, if you are not just inside a tunnel.

When the last tunnel is passed the train stops to give the passengers a photo opportunity. Down in the "golden valley" you see the town of Soller. Before this railway was built this area was only to be reached by ship or over a difficult pass in the mountains. We change to the bus again and this climbs up over exciting hairpins to the high shore. Groves of olive trees and the dry-stone-walls mentioned before accompany the route. In the depth there lies the blue sea - what shall it do otherwise? Down at the slope we observe a villa and the owner of this and a mallorquian wife is Michael Douglas.

The next village is Deya. This is the home of many artists, they say even Picasso has strolled around at this place. For there is no parking-place the bus cannot stop and the discussion turns to the television series "Hotel Paradies". Deya was one of the film locations. But they have not produced the film at just this single place. At one place they made the outer shoots of the hotel, the inner views at another. Here is the beach and there are the mountains (on the other side of the island). By this mosaic the virtual world of our dreams is built. And with the income of this romance the producers can afford such a way of life as it is shown by the movies. Or let us say: those people are the actors of their films themselves.

Now we find a parking place and stop at the estate Son Marroig of the duke Ludwig Salvator. Moreover the famous empress Sissy from Austria (known by Romy Schneider) has visited this place. Down at the sea there is a rock with a hole in it, and such phenomenon is called Foradada. They say, if you enter the hole at one end as a man you leave it at the other end as a woman. But we have not the time to make an experiment on this matter...

We go back without a further stop and pass Valdemossa with it's famous monastery. At this place the poet George Sand and the composer Frederic Chopin in the year 1838 spent some lousy cold months in the winter. This all is to be read in the poem "Winter in Mallorca" by George Sand. But the inhabitants better don't read this and tell the tourists, that this place was a shangrila of love and peace.

The rest of the time is used by our leader Erika to sell a certain oil as a medicine against every kind of infirmity. The driver of the bus sells videos with the beauties of Mallorca. And finally we are invited to the next or another tour, may be there are no beddings then...
 

Backyard at Bunyola  Deya

Nostalgic train at Bunyola  Foradada 1

View above Soller  Foradada 2

View at Soller  Valdemossa

Photo-Point  Flowers all around

5. Day, Thursday

Today there is no need to run for new adventures - let us relax for a while. For the weather is not so good today we go shopping and sit at the pool until we get chilly. So let us take a hot bath, take a nap and read a book.

Meanwhile you can dream of a potential confusion of some room numbers - of course my wife doesn't want to hear anything about this matter. For one day two proper blonds come out of room 232. Our room-number is 223. "Easy to confuse with the numbers" I say to Heidi, who is not amused. In the future the blonds have our sympathy, as we observe how they try to sozialize to somebody, but much to their and our regret the great love story does not occur.

6. Day, Wednesday

Now we can start the next undertaking, we want to go to Palma. This is no problem with bus No. 4, these go one after the other. In 45 minutes you are at Palma. It's a traffic there like in a big metropolis. During the season the traffic density at Palma shall surpass that of Madrid, the capital of Spain. When we leave the bus we just get a gratis city map at an information kiosk, which is necessary to orientate in the wrinkled streets of the city. We think, this is the only picturesque part of Palma, because the outer quarters consist of hotels and mostly ugly apartment buildings. But the old town looks romantic, the houses have not been changed since ancient times. In the lanes there a re small shops, one is especially spectacular: it's full of bacons and sausages. Soon we reach the Pl. Major where different kinds of alternative individuals offer handicraft articles.

The next destination - of course - is the cathedral, mandatory for every visitor of Mallorca. Beneath the cathedral at the ruins of the fortification there is a little park. As we pass it we are astonished by a strange tumult ahead. It is due to those certain  pink-girls (Nelkenmädchen), from whom we have heard already. In most cases those are nice looking gipsy-girls who try to spend pinks to the unsuspicious tourist and then ask for a coin or two. And when you now pull out your purse those folks soon get known to it's content better than you yourself. You will realize this fact at a later inspection. In our case the affected tourist seem to be informed about the matter and there is a short struggle, as one of the gipsy women tries to get back the pink after no purse is coming up. And as those neither nice-looking nor well built women are aware of  us they have a new victim and hurry with their swinging pinks towards us. But we decline and look away and this works. So we have made this experince too and I am proud to tell about it. Let us wait for another expectation some time later.

But now we have reached the cathedral and purchase the entrance fee. And there is just a guidance which is not public but has a good resonance anyhow. So we join this guidance as well. As the guide tells some declarations about the later dinner of the group and continuation of their tour we nod with our heads as the others do. The guide is a nice Spanish girl and she speaks a funny German (I cannot translate the funny part): "Dies ist heiliges Josef, hier liegt letztes Gegenpapst, hatte schlechtes Charakter, hat man Hut für Seele aufgehängt" ("This is holy Josef, here  last antipope is buried, had a bad character, they have hung up a hat for his soul"). And in fact a faded hat jiggles above the sarcophagus. Then there are two huge candlesticks made of silver. "Rich visitors as Aga Khan or Onassis always want to buy" the guide tells. Nearby behind a plane of glass you see a proper human bone, which may be extracted from a saint and they name it a relic (Reliquie) after that. Then there is a Vera Cruz (a real Cross) in the shape of a splint of wood which stems from the Cross of Golgatha. This is difficult to prove, for they worldwide can fill 40 waggon trails with "Vera Cruz"-splints, as we have heard.

The main hall of the cathedral has a remarkable architecture. The main nave is higher than that of the cathedral at Cologne, the bearing columns thinner in spite of that. So the room seems somewhat gracious and the eye has space to have a look around without steadily kicking against a column.  The windows are colourful, at the front side there is a huge rosette, which gives special light-effects to certain points of time in the year or day. Finaly the guide realizes: "The group gets larger and larger all the time". So we better leave and look for ourselves.

Out of the cathedral again we stroll along at D'Antoni Maura and Passeig des Born. These avenues are representative, elegant and are bordered by pretty palmtrees. I insist to tell this regarding to the "second experience" some minutes later. First let pass by a couple of police vehicles, a couple of attendance-cars and finally a couple of bike-racing-teams. Some of the riders hang at their cars and are pulled along. What kind of sport is that?

We turn to a narrow side road towards the Old Town and start to climb up some stairs. As we just are between the narrow walls a strange man comes up and manipulates something inside the frame of a window. After he has disappeaered I peer into the window frame and can observe some pieces of glass. Heidi energetically whispers at me "Stop that, come along". And suddenly there sits a couple on the floor in front of us ready to inject a shoot. As I look forward again, Heidi is 50 m ahead meanwhile, may be her speed has involuntarily increased. I hop along "We never saw a thing like that" I say, but Heidi is more excited and argues about some violence we could have risked in there. But now we are at a shopping lane again, only some steps apart...

We enter a cafe until the departure of the bus, but this comes 30 minutes later than announced. May be this is caused by the bike-race. As we are back in Paguera, the bikers have arrived too and we can watch them jumping into the bend at the fork to Calvia. The last of the riders get the loudest applause for they have more time to enjoy it in contrary to the hastening "tete" of the "peloton".

In the evening we get an unexpected invitation. The couple that has shared the shopping-excursion on Monday with us has a celebration day: Silver Wedding. So we sit at the bar behind a champaigne-tub and argue about the fact, if in our case only 20 wedding years are the justification for a Mallorca-journey as well.

7. Day Thursday

The result of the last evening is that we want to attend another shopping-excursion. This time there is a tour to the north of the island. From the beginning we learn good news of Palma. Of course the story "Bendinat..." again, we know, we know. And then we roll along and end - guess - at the finca of Sa Puebla. And who is waiting for his customers - guess - Bedding-Dieter. We are not so glad about this. So we assemble at a table, the silver married couple, a younger couple and we two. The younger couple is somewhat foolish, but we all like to laugh about the situation. Even Dieter assures to supply a funny presentation.

And he tells the story of the plastic-bag again. And this is the following: you shall take a plastic-bag and put some feathers of your bedding into it, close the bag and hang this stuff outside. And four days later open the bag and inspect the content. "And what will you find then? A black soup! And what is this?" Dieter is in top form, but we know already: inside the bag there are the excrements of the feather mite. But the foolish fellow at our table whispers: "May be there was a fart inside". You can imagine what happens? The female members at our table burst out in uncontrolable laughter. I pour some more sangria into my glass, the other fellows chuckle.

And now Dieter: "If this is too ridiculous for you I beg you to go out, yes you at the table over there. You made trouble the last time as well, I beg you again, go out!" The people mutter and look at us as we stand up and go to the door, leaving behind the full glasses of sangria. As we come outside someone asks "Don'you feel well?" "No, it is like at school" and we declare that we are fired. We laugh but feel somewhat displaced as well.

Of course outside in the sun it is beautiful. And we can now visit without haste the "wedding-chapel" Son Cladera. There are the usual somewhat kitschy images of various saints and a lot of flowers. In spite of our misconduct we get our lunch. Moreover we observe some business-persons at another table, as they dispute some important transactions, and a woman who has to record everything. Finally we have to wait until the end of the tombola, which takes place without us. We try to behave as modest as possible and to avoid another meeting with Dieter. At last we sit in the bus again and await the entertaining part of the day.

We come to Puerto Pollensa. At a slope they have built a ghetto for prominents as there are (this is an extract of German TV-culture): Frank Elsner (Wetten dass..), Horst Tappert (Derrick), Heinz Rühmann (Bruchpilot), Peter Maffay (7 schwere Jahre...), J. Mario Simmel (Es muss nicht immer Kaviar sein), Rudi Carell (Am laufenden Band) and as to symbolize the VIP-Horror the author of Hotel Paradies, Traumschiff and alike (mostly with actors like Sascha Hehn and Uschi Glas): Herbert Reinecker (Filmproducer). At the north of the slope there is the estate of the actor Johanna von Koscian (Ein bißchen Haushalt...).

With devotion everyone looks out of the bus to those houses looking quite normal. And none of those very important animals is to be seen. We come to the port and enter a boat. This brings us to the north of the bay of Pollenca to the famous Hotel Formentor. We pass another two spectacular estates, one is owned by a plastic-surgeon and the other by the Grimaldi family. The hotel Formentor was the accomodation of other famous people  like Chaplin, Churchill or nowadays Helmut Kohl "to eat his fill after his diet" as they say. Of course you cannot get near to the hotel, everything is fenced. The beach was used as the scenery for several movies for the water is so blue. We have a coffee at a snack bar and enter the bus again.

Now we have an adventourous climb over steep hairpins. Heidi and I change the seats so I can look down to the abysses when the bus enters the edge of the road to give space to oncoming traffic. At the summit there is a parking place and we have another photo opportunity. A path leads up to a more higher spot, and there you have a breathtaking view  200 m straight down to the sea. In front of this there is a wall high as the hip and people like to sit there and make photographs. "Do not sit too much behind" they say to the children. I get goosebumps there myself and go down again. Heidi has studied the botanic meanwhile and with the nails of her fingers has scratched some dry moss out of the stones and secretly put it into a plastic bag (for the mediterranean terrarium at home). Back in the bus we even observe some mountain goats.

We ride back to Allcudia. This part of Mallorca is preferred during summer by younger water sport enthusiasts. In the moment it is too early yet and so every place is deserted. Our guide - this time a lady from Mainz - informs all the time, and this in a very well mode, so this time we buy a flask of this every-purpose-medicine from her.
 

8. Day, Friday

With the silver married couple we have arranged to make a hike-tour from Paguera to Porto Andraitx via Camp del Mar. The description of the path is written in the Hapimag guide for hike-tours. So it's to me to take the booklet in my hand and walk in front of the gang. We start as pretended at the super-market Casa Pepe at the outskirts of Paguera. 10 minutes later we are lost already. If you read "Turn left" or "Walk up sloping" you can be sure to take the wrong solution from a multiple choice arrangement.

We find ourselves at a former waste deposit. So we climb up a slope just across the forest and reach a summit, where a nice vegetation grows. We have a nice view to the sea as well but we are everywhere except on the path to Camp del Mar. Another couple strolls around, the woman has already stopped the verbal communication with her partner. Finally beneath the old watchtower of Cap Andritxcoll we hit the right path. This in turn ends in front of a insurmountable embankment of a new built "urbanisation road", as they call the potential veins of a future settlement. Because this insurmountable obstruction is mentioned in our booklet we know: we are right. It is possible to circumvent the obstacle on the right side.

We walk to the beach of Camp del Mar. This is a very calm and silent place in spite to the hecticness of Paguera. There are two bigger hotels, one is closed yet. At a small island there is a restaurant, you can reach it by a path of wooden planks. But the planks are missing in the moment, so we conclude that the restaurant is closed as well. We climb up another slope. From above you have the view as to be seen at many postcards of Mallorca. From the nice houses at the shore they can enjoy this view and out of their vine-cellar some stairs lead down to the sea. At the Cala en Cranc Villa we enter a forest path and soon reach the summit.

Now we turn inland and walk along the dry-stone-walls through groves of almonds and olives. Soon you see Andraitx at the right. At a big wall there is a portal suited to shoot a photo of the nice landscape behind. The silver merried couple increases the beauty by adding their own conterfei to the photograph. We then reach the port. There are even real fishing boats. The promenade at the shore is not very inviting for they build a new pavement with jackhammers and raising dust. We have a cappuccino and then the bus is waiting for us.

What we did for the rest of the day I cannot remember, perhaps the reader will figure it out.
 

9. Day Saturday

The morning starts with sun so Heidi allocates some towels at the pool couches before breakfast to effectuate a reservation of the best places (This seems to be a common naughty practice of all tourists in sunny countries). Because I am still burnt by the sun I prefer to do something else than to be roasted all the day. It is time for the "peak of challenge", which is the harmless looking hill above Paguera. It's name is Moleta de Son Vic and the height is 350 m. Some distance away but too far to be reached on foot there is the "Matterhorn" of Mallorca named Galatzo and about 1000 m heigh. I have inspected parts of  the climb up to the Paguera hill some days before, and today I soon reach the construction site, where they drill a tunnel under the massif for the bypass road.

From this place a wide path leads up the slope. But as usual this path soon ends apruptly at the tree line (the tree line is not due to the lowering temperatures as in the mountains but to the dry limestone up there). So this path perhaps may be built only for the transport of wood. There is no continuation, some uncertain trails lead to different directions. As long as the terrain is straightforward, there is no problem to climb up just towards the summit. One must be careful not to slip at the loose gravel for it is desasterous to get hurt if you walk alone far away from any help. And there is another wisdom of the mountaineers: "If you get up, don't be sure you are able to get down the same way".

So I am somewhat anxious, for the terrain gets impassable more and more. Sometimes one has to climb using hands and feet and to throw a view to the back to be sure to find the right trail afterwards. The vertical rocks meanwhile loom large up to 20 m height and that is too high to slip down on the bottom of your pants. While a yellow butterfly, may be it's a swallow tail sits down on one of my foot I cannot turn or move to observe him thoroughly. I just have a pretty airy cookie. Finally I recognize plenties of goat beans and the thick bulbs of a unknown plant.

I see that I cannot go higher without daring too much. Fortunately I have hit on a small  canyon and on its bottom can climb down to the treeline. As I reach the forrest I feel safe again and soon are on the wide path from before. Some days later we find a guide book and there is to be read, that this hill is unmountable from this side. Now climbers, don't laugh at me.

When I am back at wife, pool and couch I better enjoy the lazy life.
 

10. Day Sunday

The same story like the day before, couch-reservation and I start for a hike tour again. I want to go to Cala Fornells, then to the Cala Monjo (Monksbay) and then climb up to the Cap Andtaitxoll. Up to the end of the Cala Fornells Bay nothing is new. At a small peninsula there is a curious building, a house looking like a ship even with a mast on it.

At the hotel Coronado you reach a cliff path. There is a lonesome villa at the most beautiful spot of the bay. It looks uninhabited. At the cliff path we have nice flowers and there is the usual mediterranian view. Near the Cala Monjo we have another smaller bay which looks like a crater surrounded by vertical cliffs. The Cala Monjo area is private property owned by a German who is said to be in prison. So the people consider the terrain to be public again. At a wall you can read "Mallorca is SPAIN". In earlier times this bay was a refuge for pirates, smugglers and other uncertain individuals. Nowadays the nudists have their paradise here. But today there is none! Unfortunately this place can be reached by motorized vehicles meanwhile, so the remote mystic atmosphere has gone.

Now we enter a steep path up to Cap Andraitxoll and in the burning sun we get pretty sweaty. Later in the summer it may be impossible to undertake such a tour during the heat of the day. At the summit of the Cap there is the rest of an old watchtower. These towers were needed in earlier times to watch for pirates or other enemies and to send signals to the neighboured towers, so this was the "hotline" of the island. Today the tourists like to visit these places. A gentleman sends his accompanying ladies ahead, brings himself and his camcorder into line and shoots towards the tower and the ladies. "Cap Andraitxoll, the destination is reached" he murmurs into the microphone. Excuse me not to translate the Swabian dialect. I stand in the background so long not to disturb the idyll.

The walk up here was so delightful that the route back through the forrest is less interesting. But I reach the pool "in time". I declare "Who was not there, where I was, that was not there". But something has occurred meanwhile at the hotel. An older lady was on her way to the toilet but exploded ahead of schedule. But she found some help and since that time she sits at the pool again with a cognac under her sun shade...
 

11. Day Monday

At the breakfast buffet a group of newcomers attract attention. They wear uniform sweatsuits with the inscription "Benthien, Roofs and Facades". We have our fun.

Even Heidi excepts, that not every day can be spent at the side of the pool. Let us head for a ride with the glass-bottom-boat. To be well equipped for this trip we first buy according hats, Heidi a black hat of straw and I a white baseball cap. While we are waiting for the boat, some further studies come up. A lady declares something about the fishes: "There are three kinds of them in the water, the small ones, the normal and the great ones". Aha! At the jetty some anglers try their luck but mostly only catch "the small ones". These are thrown to the numorus roaming cats. This is real sport...

When the ship arrives a photographer is at work and we later will get a memory picture with hat and cap. The photo of a woman must be of extraordinary beauty: she wears a poison-green T-shirt, three purple palm trees are painted at the front under a pink coloured skye. And across this all the silver letters MALLORCA.

The comments on board are given in four languages and so you hear: "Links, Santa Ponsa, to the left, Santa Ponsa, a gouche, Santa Ponsa, a la izquierda, Santa Ponsa!" In additions to the words left and right the conferencier masters a vocabulary from bay, memory, island, taurus, and rabbit - in 4 languages not to forget. An outstanding  exemplar of an European citizen.

During the voyage you see the shoreline from a new perspective. There are jagged cliffs which you cannot see from the land side. Other parts of the shore are spoiled by uncontrolled buildings even inside the cliffs like the nests of swallows. The greatest sensation are the Rabbit Islands where you can admire some rock like the Taurus. On these cliffs live some cormorants and the cameras click - so does mine. Finally we pass Camp del Mar, Cala Monjo and Cala Fornells.

At the end of the voyage the owner of the ship spends a gulp out of a certain drink container with a nozzle. You have to make long arms to keep this nozzle far away from your mouth, when the stream comes out. The spender offers a towel to the  unskilled victims. We better resign.

Two hours have gone when we reach the land again. Wasn't a nice trip...?
 

12. Day Tuesday

We now have arranged to make a tour in the early day and to relay during the rest. Today we go by bus via Andraitx to San Telmo. In between there is a village in a fertile valley named S' Arraco and this remembers to the famous Soller-area, but here everything is smaller and more remote. Near San Telmo there is the jagged rocky island named Dragonera. The highest point of this islnd with a rotted lighthouse is 300 m high. At the open sea side the cliffs vertically fall into the depth. The disadvantage of the old lighthouse at the top was, that it often vanished in the clouds, and so they built a new one in a lower location. One can hire a boat to get over but you should have enough time.

We have read something about a romantic bay named Cala Basset. For to reach there it should be sufficient to stay to the shore line. But first we only find those urbanisation roads, which seem to have been built completely in vain. There are so many houses, apartements and estates to sell (Se Vendre), you see a lot of rotted new built shells, where the owner has lost his financial power. At the end of those roads we find a path through small palm trees (Fächerpalme), the only native palm of Mallorca.

Finally we reach the ruin of a watch tower named Punta Nigra. It is possible to climb into the tower some iron clamps and a narrow spiral staircase lead to a platform and there you have the best view of the Cala Basset or the Dragonera. We seem to be at the most western point of Mallorca. And we are happy, that at this spectacular place we meet no other human beeings.

We return on the path back to San Telmo. We have to wait two hours for the next bus and stroll along and look at the shops. At a cafe we have a cappuccino with a huge cap of cream. At this remote village there is few traffic, so we enjoy the sun, the silence and the view to the island Dragonera and the blue sea.
 

13. Day Wednesday

At wednesday there is the weekly market at Andraitx and this shall not occur without us. When you leave the bus you can recognize, that many busses have come from other places to visit this market. We have not left the parking site yet as the first dealer tries to praise his pearl jewelry. And it is a mistake to show any interest for a Mallorca-pearl-chain. The Mallorca-pearl is a pearl imitation as a characteristic creation of this island. Our dealer wants 5000 Pesetas for a chain. We refuse so he takes a sheet of paper and we shall write down the prize we want to pay. But we want to pay nothing and leave the yelling dealer behind. Some stands ahead the same chain costs 2000 Pesetas.

At first we leave the market to have a look at the cemetary of which we have read about in a guide. We must search for a while, but finally we find the cemetary near - guess - the church. Because of the rocky ground and the shortage of space the corpses are buried overground. For this there are crypts built of stone which are located like the push trays of a cupboard. At the front side the crypt is closed by a heavy stone-panel, and there you find the name, the dates and eventually a photo of the departed persons. One crypt is for two persons each. There are luxurious and simple installations, even some cheaper community crypts for a greater number of inhabitants. That's all somewhat spine chilling and we return to the market.

It is interesting to watch the stands with food and vegetables. You see all sorts of spice, sausage and meat products, but our mouth doesn't gather much spittle if you look at a truncated bacon. The bacons are air-dried and hang around somewhere. At their lower end a small shell is placed to catch the dripping fat.

We buy a crock as souvernir and can drop the price by some 100s of pesetas. Heidi still has the chain of Mallorca pearls in her mind and someone offers one for 2900 pesetas. "One thousand perhaps" Heidi murmurs. "OK, OK" the dealer shouts and we think that we have made a good bargain.

Another fascinating matter is a game of luck played with hollow potatoes and a little pellet. A gipsy woman hastily moves the potatoes around and sometimes the pellet appears for a tiny moment. Finally the playing folks have to specify the right potatoe which covers the pellet. We suppose that the winners are members of the team and the loosers are the silly tourists. We keep our purse deep in our pockets.
 

14. Day, Thursday

This is the last day and the silver merried couple will leave tomorrow as well. It happens that the weather is bad as usual at the very last day so we will miss to swim in the sea as we had planned. So let's the women go shopping and the male adventurers will have a walk to Calvia which is described in that certain brochure.

But first I must look at the travel bureau to get the right identification labels for the baggage. But the bureau is not open earlier than 10 o'clock, so I will have to return in the afternoon. With a bit rain we start the hike tour and pass the Rancho Romana, a western style horseman's estate. We walk up and down and steadily turn somewhat to the left as it is described in the booklet. After a  quarter of an hour we reach the outskirts of Paguera again and have manged to have walked a fine circle.

We start for a new trial and succeed on the route to the purification plant. Our shoes stick from thick layers of clay under the bottom meanwhile. We neglect the sign Privado and pass the Finca Tora which lies on a hill like a fortification. Calvia with it's church is to be seen ahead and we cannot get lost again. In Calvia at the central place there is a remarkable panorama mosaic of ceramic. I am sorry that I have no camera with me. We have a coffee but then must hurry up for the bus leaves 5 minutes too early this time.

In the afternoon Heidi stays to a plastic bag and a spoon, which has fallen into her handbag during dinnertime the evening before. I remember a garbage deposit where I saw the copious branches of common plants. There we can fill the bag without the risk to damage the nature of Mallorca.

Thereafter we have to rush to the travel agency. Several people are waiting who want to change reservations, prolongate, complain on something and so on. I dare to press forward and shout "Sorry I only want some identification labels signed by Sun World Tours!" "We have none, you should order them at the organizer". We are perplex and leave the place of promise. But fortunately we have saved the labels from the outward journey. We have some trouble for it is to be seen that the male part of our team is unable to organize something correctly, that he forgets the main things of life and always trusts that everything is managed by others. And so on...

Back in the hotel I make sure that the old labels are at their place. After dinner we must swarm out for another plant-grabbing tour. There is a rotted disco named Bei Monika and there we find some more flowers and scions (Ableger). I wonder how we will pass the security control at the airport tomorrow if we export beetles, spiders and scorpions.
 

15. Day, Friday

We are very curious, if the announced bus at 5.25 pm will really appear. We shall wait at the back entrance of the hotel and stand there in the dark for a while. I calculate about the use of a taxi to the airport. But then after ten minutes delay the bus comes along and picks us up in spite of the strange identification labels.

In the airport we have a final performance. There are such certain cakes, which everybody seems to take with him before  he leaves this island. Numerous people run around carrying cartons big like a cartwheel. Such a cake costs about 1000 pesetas. We only have some coins yet. So we enter an exchange-counter to change 20 DM. The clerk throws some coins on to the desk - we get 800 pesetas, the other 500 are purchased as exchange fee. So with our rest of 100 pesatas we now own 900 and still cannot buy a cake.

Because the exchange counter and the cake shop are at the opposite sides of the hall we may have crossed it 4 times or more. Now we  head for the cake shop determined to beat down the price of the cake to 900 pesetas. But calm down, there is another cake, a smaller one for just 900 pesetas and that's it.

So this was our first touristic journey by flight, we think somewhat funny sometimes.