We were excited this morning to be going on a day tour around the south westerly side of the island to Port Soller encompassing bus travel, boat, historic tram and 3ft narrow gage 1890 train.  Our pick up was from the same bus stop at the ‘Linda’ hotel as yesterday at 9:00 so we got up a bit early, had a un-leisurely breakfast and double checked which side of the road with Roberto to be on (he said same as yesterday) before setting off.  We got to the bus stop in plenty of time, but 40 minutes later at 9:30 we gave up and went home. Clearly something was wrong.  We told Roberto at reception and he rung to see what went wrong, apparently they looked for us but couldn’t see us. We explained where we were and Roberto looking at us as though we were stupid said we were at the wrong bus stop – wrong side of the road.

WHAT?  I was spitting tacks.  We double checked and took him literally that it was the same as yesterday (which he put us wrong on) and instead he had it right this time and wrong yesterday …. Grrr lost in translation. What was more gutting was that the company did not do the tour again till Friday – and we were leaving then.  He offered us an alternative but this tour was a particular wish of ours so I asked if there were any other tour operators offering the same trip.  Yes – and for 5 euro extra we got on one for tomorrow.  What a relief. With new vouchers issued we flicked to Plan B, which was tomorrows itinerary today – beach hopping.  Roberto was able to recommend a car hire and in 10 minutes we were picked up by the VIP car hire service and whisked off to their depot near the airport.

Our car for the day was a Fiat Panda – a somewhat ugly nana car but actually very nice comfortable seating and position.  Separate Tom Tom GPS purchased and plugged in we were mobile until 8pm all up for 42 euro.  The service was great, and being near the airport and a nice roundabout linking the main road-motorway out made for a smooth and easy exit – and return with no one ways and narrow streets to navigate.

One of the key reasons for choosing Mallorca was for the beautiful aqua blue beaches which I have a mission to swim in as many in the world as possible!  It happens to be my favorite colour and together with both our love of water immersing ourselves in this type of crystal clear water is our favorite outdoor activity.  First beach on our planner was Es Trenc – about 30 minutes from Palma.  It is a long, shallow beach and promoted as great for children.  The scenery along the way was dry brown stoney and rocky light reddy brown soil with a little bit of scrubby brown vegetation surrounded by low dusty rock fences.  Cactus, large round hay bales and occasional spindly windmills for pumping water from wells/bores gave height to the plains and together with the stone houses some with arches we felt we were in a South American country. The mountainous ranges of Mallorca were hazy blue in the distance.

The parking for the beach was pay and display along a narrow road lined on both sides with spindly dark green and brown 2 metre coastal tree scrub.  Emerging for the air conditioning was a shock as even at 11am the temperature was a dehydrating 32 degrees and rising.  We always put our hats on, but its a double edged sword – whilst providing some shade and protection you notice it increases your heat by limiting the natural cooling from the head! Better warm and not sun burnt – you see some shocking burns around.  Anyway there was a queue for the parking ticket machine and the problem was how to work it. A German lady and myself helped out a gentlemen after we saw one person who knew – funny how trying to explain how to do things in three languages – takes some skill, even for a simple task.  I also was intrigued and reminded how the Europeans use English as the common language for talking to each other – despite what country they are in.  So for interest how you work these things … put in first four digits of your number plate, hit green button, put in money, select time, green button, get ticket. Easy once you know.

It was over a kilometer walk by the time we got to the beach and it looked just like the pictures – funny that! We could not wait to take our top clothes off (already had togs on) and jump in. A little cool at first but really it was because of the outside temperatures and our sweat slick bodies – not the water.  The sea had about 3 bands of colour, the first a slight cafe au lait tint to what would have been clear due to quite a bit of fine algae/weed in some sections, aqua, and a hint of green blue further out.  I had great fun doing what we now call the manatee (rolling around with delight like I observed in Singapore) and swimming through the various layers.  There were quite a few other people on the beach, lots of boobies out and about – including men mobbies LOL.  The tans of some people were black brown – like ebony tanned leather – all over.  Yuk – imagine the wrinkles and sun damage.  At the bay by the hotel there is a lot of topless nudity too and I am surprised at the ages – seriously lots of topless women who are over 60 – and well its all ages – and no ages excepted.  I being kiwi are more modest, albeit have no problem with others – in fact admire their confidence in their skins – just prefer a more private form of undress for myself.

Reluctantly we left the refreshing cool of the water to continue our beach hop.  You don’t have to dry off here – just put clothes on top and hope they don’t dry too quickly!  There is a little open walled style superette at the entrance to the beach and we topped up on waters, a nice yoghurt smoothy and a fresh small pork and pea empanada to share. The are like the English pork pie in shape, inbetween the small and large size and quite tasty. The pastry is thin and crisp – just the way I like it.  I like Spanish pastry vs. the English style – must look into how they make it.

Next stop on the list was Cala Llomards which is only about 20 minutes further in an easterly direction and when I did my research it was meant to be good for swimming. This would be accurate if you were young, a thrill seeker and liked to jump off cliffs.  We were able to park closely and for free and just did a quick stop off to admire the green edged purple blue deep water.

Fifteen minutes further up the road was a little twin harbour town called Figuera.  It has a small but deep twin harbour which has a few traditional fishing houses among some millionaires houses lining it. Here we had to park above the harbor in town  – fortunately for free – and do some walking down a steep hill to the edge of the cliff where the eateries and hopefully water access was.  We were also ready for a comfort stop including a cuppa.  We are being nicely disciplined with the good breakfasts we have enjoyed in the UK and here – we don’t have lunch (well a cake with a cuppa is not technically lunch is it? OR an icecream..)  Again we noticed the heat, but its a matter of sucking up and one foot in front of the other and making friends with the natural cooling mechanisms of the body – however distasteful it feels to be wet.  Our quest for a swimming hole took us along the rocks and cliff face to the harbor entrance, only to find no water access unless you are a cliff jumper.  Problem with all the hydrating we do, I was busting and ended up popping a squat over a natural rock pool behind a big rock as I could hold no longer.  Again those trusty wipes and sanitizer gel come in handy!  The walk back to cafe central was a good 10 minute tricky one, over uneven volcanic style rock – and not something that could have been hastened.

The cafe offerings didn’t look that great but we found one that served traditional cappuccino where they only have frothed milk on top of the expresso and no hot plain steamed milk blended in like a latte (haven’t seen that for years) and we shared a very acceptable piece of chocolate cake with ganache – a bit like a sachet torte.  I spied the owners and think they were ex pat Germans.  There was an information centre near to the cafe so I popped in and  asked about swimming access.  She explained there was none here, but gave me a map with an option on either side of the town – both which were on my list so that was good.

5 minutes back down the road we arrived at a free park right at the little bay of Santanyi.  Excited again we navigated the various levels of exposed and tanned bodies to the blue waters edge and waded in steadily adjusting our hot bodies until we allowed our natural flippers to take over the horizontal navigation. It was about 4:30pm by now, and we wanted to get to the last beach – Cala Mondrago which is situated in a bit of national park.

The park for Cala Mondrago was manned by people with intellectual and mental health issues, and all proceeds went to support their work in the local community- what a terrific idea.  There was about a 10 minute walk down hill through bush to the beach but wow talk about save the best for last when we saw her!  So perfect like a aquamarine jewell surrounded by a champagne diamond sandy cove. In we went with no hesitation.  The perfect blue enveloped around us and we did several manatees in appreciation and delight.

Vern signaled it was time to go – as our beach hop day had gone by so quickly and we needed to head home and return the car.  Nooooo!  I did not want to leave, but of course I had no option but to return to land legs and make the climb back to the car park.  There is another little bay around the corner to this which is probably equally as pretty – and I felt gutted we did not have time to make it there given the not so successful beach experiences as Llombardes and Figuera.  Vern helped a young German family carry their stroller and gear up a part which had steps which was appreciated and met with surprise- another example of the differences in cultures – kiwis I think are more ethical, service orientated, friendly and helpful than many.  We don’t think things like that a big deal – but here it is.

Our Tom Tom took us back home to the depot in good time – about 50 minutes mostly along highways with the exception of Santanyi.  Here he took us right through every narrow, often one way lane of the old town and new town which was rather hair raising at times.   I would say – left in 100 m. Or second exit at 11 o’clock. Vern would question it and get a bit stressed as we seemed to be going through a maze of tight turns and tricky passes. Tom Tom and I were right, this was merely the scenic route and we got through to the other side just fine.  I would add it is a very scenic town, and would probably be a good place to base if you had a car.  Tall stone buildings, intriguing streets and lanes, lots of shops – old and new, beach not too far away and a good balance of enough local business to not make it too touristy.

We topped up petrol in our car at the depot and then got VIP transported home with a smile.  A quick shower and off to find a place to eat. We scanned various tables doing a loop around the bay to the bigger beach and touristy area around the corner.  This area  is very popular with British,Germans and families.  I did not find it appealing and glad I took note of reviews and information prior to booking.  Along with the very touristy and almost Bennedorm atmosphere/clientele – the food was not up to my standards so back we went to Rambo Fijo where we were greeted like family by all the staff, even being thanked for coming back as that made them ‘so happy’.  We found out that they are from Madrid and it is pretty much a family affair.

Our meal did not disappoint at all, nor did the wine or spanish beer.  In fact we had one of the most devine foie gras dishes we have had the pleasure of eating.  We shared an entree costing a respectable 16 euro of a ‘millifuelle of foie and mango’ – which was layers of duck foie gras and mango cooked gently like a terrine and served with a mango sorbet and delicious green tender herbaceous salad. Not only was the foie gra a most silky buttery melt in the mouth texture – the flavours really worked.  It was served with toasts, and was really too good to share. We then ejoyed a main each – me a smoked octopus dish, and Vern had pork cheeks slow cooked in red wine with little crunch potato cubes.  My octopus is worth its own descriptive mention – firstly they boil it till tender, but not flavourless.  Then it is frozen for 3 days to break down the fibers. It is then seasoned and basted with a slightly sweet but delicate glaze and quickly grilled with oil then smoked lightly in a dome just before serving at the table.  Accompanying it was a mash with hints of smoked paprika and pieces of chorizo. But the way I know these methods due to the great service and description from our awesome waitress plus my own senses (wink). So the result – the best darn octopussy that I have had hands down – all eight of them.  It was juicy and tender like a most perfect poached  chicken breast (actually had juicy coming out) and the end curly bits had a sticky sweet smokey crunch like a delicate BBQ spare rib.  Vern even was brave or gullible enough to try it and gave it a nod.

We left for our little wander home in the dark at 11pm, stars in the sky, coloured light reflections on the bay, happy sounds of tourists wafting with wisps of tobacco from promenade side bars – all wrapped up in a balmy spanish island indigo night.