majorca more than expected
As I sat up on the balcony of our hotel watching the sun disappear behind scattered clouds, diverting my attention only to watch the horse drawn carriage transporting tourists around Port de Alcucia, I considered how our sunny break had become more of a Majorcan adventure rather than just a holiday. The world around me seemed far more appealing than my book which I had struggled through for most of the break - reading seemed too much effort amidst the pleasure of doing nothing.
The first couple of days were welcome relief from our arrival experience which was unappreciated after hours of flight delays and a few unnecessary circles around Port de Alcudia, at 1am, in an attempt to locate our accommodation. On arrival, the receptionist, who I’m convinced was actually Clark Kent (so akin was his resemblance) elicited much eye-rolling from Ian and I, as we recognized his accent to be South African. Without much regret he informed us that there was, in fact, no space for us in the hotel itself but they had arranged for us to stay in the adjacent apartments for our first night. Already weary from our travels, we disapprovingly followed as he led us to our accommodation. Our faces spoke a thousand understandings as, simultaneously, we felt the bass from the nightclub directly beneath us. Even my Grease Lightning, Olivia Newton-John karaoke rendition didn’t bring respite from the situation as we considered the lack of air-con, solid beds and rowdy neighbours. But sleep was involuntary and the next day the manager gladly compensated us for our troubles.
Majorca is beautiful. Thanks to a situation involving extra strong UV rays and non-waterproof sunscreen we decided to drive around the island on our second day rather than risk further injury due to over-enthusiasm at the novelty of a beach. The mountain passes, though treacherous, held many secrets. As we rounded corners we were greeted by magnificent views - a crystal clear lagoon or a village tucked away in a mountain forest.
I wont go into detail of how both of us contracted the Majorcan ‘lurgy’ within 12 hours of each other. Sadly, the memory of a wonderful finale dinner in a local tapas joint, complemented by good food and wine and a cheerful Majorcan waiter, is slightly tainted as I got to taste it all twice. The trip home was largely unpleasant, not just for me but Ian too who lovingly tended to me in my forlorn state as I winced and shivered. Having been through it 24 hours prior to me, he was sympathetic, choosing not to tease me which I had done mercilessly to him. Nasty girlfriend eats humble pie.
I’m left with a hint of a tan which is likely to fade within the week, but Majorcan sunshine will live on. This is where you think I’m going to get all mushy. I mean in the numerous pictures we took – hello!
The first couple of days were welcome relief from our arrival experience which was unappreciated after hours of flight delays and a few unnecessary circles around Port de Alcudia, at 1am, in an attempt to locate our accommodation. On arrival, the receptionist, who I’m convinced was actually Clark Kent (so akin was his resemblance) elicited much eye-rolling from Ian and I, as we recognized his accent to be South African. Without much regret he informed us that there was, in fact, no space for us in the hotel itself but they had arranged for us to stay in the adjacent apartments for our first night. Already weary from our travels, we disapprovingly followed as he led us to our accommodation. Our faces spoke a thousand understandings as, simultaneously, we felt the bass from the nightclub directly beneath us. Even my Grease Lightning, Olivia Newton-John karaoke rendition didn’t bring respite from the situation as we considered the lack of air-con, solid beds and rowdy neighbours. But sleep was involuntary and the next day the manager gladly compensated us for our troubles.
Majorca is beautiful. Thanks to a situation involving extra strong UV rays and non-waterproof sunscreen we decided to drive around the island on our second day rather than risk further injury due to over-enthusiasm at the novelty of a beach. The mountain passes, though treacherous, held many secrets. As we rounded corners we were greeted by magnificent views - a crystal clear lagoon or a village tucked away in a mountain forest.
I wont go into detail of how both of us contracted the Majorcan ‘lurgy’ within 12 hours of each other. Sadly, the memory of a wonderful finale dinner in a local tapas joint, complemented by good food and wine and a cheerful Majorcan waiter, is slightly tainted as I got to taste it all twice. The trip home was largely unpleasant, not just for me but Ian too who lovingly tended to me in my forlorn state as I winced and shivered. Having been through it 24 hours prior to me, he was sympathetic, choosing not to tease me which I had done mercilessly to him. Nasty girlfriend eats humble pie.
I’m left with a hint of a tan which is likely to fade within the week, but Majorcan sunshine will live on. This is where you think I’m going to get all mushy. I mean in the numerous pictures we took – hello!
posted by foxy_roxtar at 4:42 PM
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