Majorca

This trip started with a longing to hire a motorhome for a week during the Easter Break but ended with a very pleasant short break instead, in Majorca. How?

Truth is, I wasn`t entirely sure I liked the motorhome we were offered, nor the short time that it was available to us, especially at half term when a certain little B could tag along on any trip. Wanting to think about options, I idly said, I bet we can`t get decent flight prices being half term, checked and found out for a change that I could! With Mr B needed at home, it was on his suggestion that little B and I flew out on Easter Monday, and that he and Daddy B would join us two days later. Great Plan.

Little B and I went by train to the airport, such an easy option. Helped of course by a late flight. All went well, even at the airport when our taxi driver was the spit of `Pieta` from Taken (taxi`s are so damned expensive) we just looked at each other, decided we definitely were not his type and hopped in. We arrived at our boutique adults only hotel, got checked in wink wink, by a lovely, wink wink, receptionist, wink wink, who took our passports wink wink, advised us of a lovely town wink wink, and to our room we went. He may just have been being very friendly, but goodness me, he made me cringe with all his winking! Wink at little B all you like Mr, but I`m old enough to be your mum!

Our first day was a lovely warm blue sky day, and the chance to relax by the pool, read and do nothing was much needed. We both got rather fried, decided to eat in our room rather than go out venturing, then found out the nearest supermarket sold nothing resembling real food. Plenty if you had a bowl, microwave, or pan or plate but not a lot else. Little B was tasked with inventing, and came back with two perfectly nice potato salads, cereal bars and chocolate. Netflix on the kindle fire, and two happy bunnies ended their first day.

The room. I really need to talk about the room. For a `boutique` hotel, this had to be designed by an amateur. Yes, we had a pool view, if you looked to the right of the car park.

Both bunnies could see the pool at the same time, one from the balcony, the other from the shower. Curious?

The balcony, with its lovely (not) pebbly rocky uneven floor had two chairs, table and a window. Through the window, not visible from the outside, was the shower room. Who in their right minds puts the shower room on the balcony!? I could see little B, she could not see me, we could both see the pool and car park. As for the rest of the bathroom area, two sinks side by side, no door, no wall, just two large double sided mirrors with gaps between. Double sided mirrors?, sure, why the heck would you not want to see yourself climbing out of bed first thing in a morning. At least the loo was private. Still not a lockable door, and the walls were glass, opaque glass, but still glass.

Day three, and the day that the boy bunnies would be arriving. They too were on a late flight. Little B and I decided to go to Valdemossa. This was the nearby town that winky boy had recommended. Bus to Palma, bus to Valdemossa. Easy. The first part was easy, the bus arrived on time, we got off, the bus we wanted sailed past us as we waited to cross the road to get to it, then the waiting started. Turns out the long wait was quite pleasant, helped by a lovely chat with a guy called Fabian from Germany. I noted he had a Thailand Elephant tattoo on his arm, and a conversation started from that. After an hour and two full buses passing us later, it was clear that the only way we were going to get to our destination was by taxi. We shared the cost, and got to our little town soon after.

Valdemossa is a very pretty little town, and very much a tourist trap. It really is a double edged sword of not liking tourists, whilst being one myself. Its the same the world over, we congregate as tourists in the nicest of places (where locals live), then swarm around their town. Tourism brings in money, but does it really mean that we want to see an endless array of coffee shops (yes lol) but surely not the cheap tacky TS shops? Do we still live in a world where plates depicting `I love Majorca` are a thing of beauty or need? Do we need endless naff, and lets admit it, butt cheeks? tits? gaudy oversized magnets in garish colours are naff. Surely these are tacky in anyone`s world. A recent hotel in Lisbon asked for people to bring a fridge magnet from their hometown, granted Manchester was the closest I could find, but almost all the others on the fridge were both pleasant on the eye and tasteful. My mum collected fridge magnets, and I think she must have found them a bit of an eyesore herself because hers were hidden behind a cupboard door, to be admired and reflected on in private, or if she wanted to recall if they had been to a certain place or not, but they were definitely not on display. A few years later, with her fridge magnets now stored in the loft, we both started to collect pin badges, tiny cute reminders of places visited. Finding the nicest of pin badges was my mums forte, no matter how hard I look for nice ones, my mum always found one better.

I have diverted, back to Valdemossa. A town in the hills directly north of Palma. Not on the coast, but slightly inland, a maze of narrow winding streets of warm stone walls, steep hills, painted dark green shutters, door signs of tiles with the same religious picture and text. Very few cars, and an aura of peace. With beautiful scenic views of the valley, this small town is just so pretty, and old. A whole lot of coffee shops to be found, with equal amounts of other tourist shops. Little B after months of searching, found the most gorgeous pair of beige shorts in one of the nicest little shops, a shop that was so warm, yet had a heater tucked away in a corner. I just had to ask `when do you ever need a heater`? "last week!" she laughed, "I have never been so cold". I guess we struck lucky with the week we chose. Our wanderings complete and shopping done, it was our turn to avail ourselves of one of the many coffee shops. We chose one with a courtyard garden, and relaxed with what has to be the nicest slice of cheesecake either of us had ever had, homemade lemonade and a pot of tea, well, we are English :-) It was actually the delicious cake that made Little B ask, "do you think Daddy B and Gpa would like to come back to this town, maybe we could hire a car.....

Leaving Valdemossa by bus was a bit of a challenge and quite frankly a poor showing of courtesy. Actual pushing, shoving and angry words, to get on a bus, not by us I hasten to add, the people at the front of the bus line. It was ridiculous, and with a bit of hindsight and forethought by the bus company, totally avoidable. The bus stop area is vague. Where to queue or line up, the same. With people waiting in line in both directions of the bus stop, naturally everyone at the head of the queue thought they had a right to board the bus first. Bus arrives, doors open, chaos ensued. Majorca, you need to clearly mark the floors, put on more buses, and train your drivers to be just a little more firm, and polite I may add. Aimed at the driver who screamed, No, get the next one, after we had already waited for, and missed three prior due to being full.

We ate that night at the nearby lovely cafe Mozart a short bunny hop from the hotel. A cafe that would serve us all well for the remaining few nights of our break.

The Boys Arrive. They too wanted a day of rest, and as the sun was still shining bright, not a problem. We paused for a few hours then headed down to the harbour. Winky had already warned us in advance that it was a very, very expensive place to be. He was not wrong. An in your face visual sign of how surplus wealth is squandered, or as I personally think, wasted. A marina full of multi million pound yachts just sat doing nothing. Same in every marina around the world I would assume, but seeing so many in one place is shameful. I must be getting cynical as I age, but having seen far too many homeless people, people living in poor conditions, many others just getting by, yet here sits a flotilla of multi million pound playboy yachts designed for the pleasure of a few, just now and again, is money that could have been used to better humanity. As for the numerous Porsches, Mercedes and even a Ferrari and an Aston Martin parked up, this is Majorca! a small island! Why the heck do you need that posing car to drive just a few miles? Bonkers . Just saying.

With the idea that a car to tour the island was a good idea, Mr B duly hired us, a bus. He wanted something comfortable for the four of us, and got landed with a car the size of a chelsea tractor. Yes it was comfortable, but with hindsight, far too big for the small Island roads of Majorca. We knew already that Valdemossa was going to be busy, so we headed there first thing in the morning, and nabbed one of the few available parking spaces. We wandered the town once more, and again we sampled that cheesecake, the whole reason we went back so willingly to that town. From there we headed to Deia just a few miles away from the town of Valldemossa, but given the fact that it was now past one o`clock, the chance of a parking spot was long gone. Looking a lot like a smaller Valldemossa, we cut our losses and moved on to the next town, Soller. Here we managed to find an out of town parking area, duly parked up and heading on foot into the town. A first it appeared that the town was closed, but we pressed on and reached the town centre and the busiest little square in front of a large church. A glorious array of colourful artisan type stalls, with a lot of orange. Not just orange the fruit, but the colour orange was everywhere. The best selling dessert here is the Orange Ice Cream, naturally little B sampled it, but having had one taste this bunny decided that one taste contained enough bits of peel to last the whole day. The highlight of the day was watching the little train wend its way through the town. I would imagine that once upon a time this was an essential route for access to nearby Palma, but the trains I saw seemed to be clogged with an army of tourists armed with phones taking selfies. I wonder if come Winter, the locals breathe a sigh of relief? ditto the world over.

The next day we decided to head, under the skilled and practised guidance of our personal tour organiser, aka Little B, to the far east of the Island and the area around Pollenca, the port of, and the areas around Alcudia. The drive itself was lovely, we dodged a few road lice here and there on the first part of the journey, but then they started to breed. Oh dear Lor, are they the most selfish, inconsiderate, road users of all time! Bloody bike riders. I used to love a good bike ride, but I like to think that I showed a sense of awareness and courtesy. These modern day bike riding pedal pushers in their silly, sweaty, tight lyra outfits are nothing short of a damn nuisance. Riding two abreast up the steepest hills at 3miles per hour, totally not giving a rats ass about the queue of 500 cars trying to pass and continue their own journeys at a slightly less ridiculously slow speed, these sodding road lice plough on regardless like they own the whole damn road. I thoroughly admire the fitness of a bike rider, it truly is impressive at times, but for goodness sake guys, pull over now and again, watching your cute asses works for a while, but even the sight of good looking backside gets tiring after a while. The deeper into the Pollenca headland we got, the more the lice bred. Alcudia was a little better, we are out of season, but it was clear to see why this place is a firm favourite as a family friendly destination. Anyone with squawkers wanting a nice beach and shallow warm waters, Alcudia ticks boxes.

Our last day started wet. It remained wet and rainy all day. We had the briefest moments when the weather hinted at behaving, but mostly, we got wet. The plan today was to check out the nearby towns of Palma Nova and Magaluf, then head into the city of Palma. I first came to Majorca as a child, and have been several times since as a young adult. Only in the latter years have I heard that Magaluf has been given a new nickname, Shagamuff. Referring I assume to the 18-25s party goers looking for sun, sangria and s s s sightseeing! (not) Another Ibiza, or Benidorm I presumed. We did not drive too far into the town before the evidence presented itself. Like Benidorm, a town I unashamedly describe as cheap and tacky, the same disgusting tat can be found here. A far cry from the upmarket town of Portal Nous where we were staying, here you rapidly descend into British Bars, Karaoke, Full English Breakfast (why?) and foul t shirts branded with slogans such as I Love ..xxx.....well, anything sexual that has four letters. One drive through was sufficient to know this would not be an area of Majorca that any of the bunnies would choose to stay. Just out of Magaluf is the Pirate Dinner Adventure, I cannot begin to think how old this show is now, given that I took little B when she was around 5 years old.

Palma, and it beautiful Cathedral and highlight of the town. What is it like? Well my friends, I have no idea. We put off visiting Palma until the end of our trip with a view to spending the whole day there. First of all it rained, hard. Second, we had nothing waterproof, and third, the Cathedral, open every day, except..ta da...Sundays! three guesses what day we were there. With our day gone to pot, we cut our losses and went for lunch instead. Three bunnies had a very nice lunch, with Mr `il just have half a grapefruit` opting for a cheap coffee and a croissant.

Deciding we may as well spend the extra time at the warm air conditioned airport, we dropped off our big bus, and headed for the airport early.

Majorca, away from the tourist hot spots, you are one very lovely, pretty Island. Would we return? Yes, out of season, and somewhere quiet, I think we would.

Thank you for your hospitality.