Second month into summer, the rain and clouds are still lingering in England and it feels rather like early autumn. Even it is nice to see “the green and pleasant land” every day we decided that some warm sunshine from Mediterranean could give us a bit taste of real summer. I packed the Hemingway book “For whom the bell tolls” into my bag hoping to finish this book during the holiday there, coincidentally the book is about Spanish civil war. We embarked on the charter flight from London to Palma in Majorca, a small island in the Mediterranean close to Spain.
It was an early morning flight, the security check at terminal 1 heathrow was quite smooth. When we were getting our breakfast at Café Nero, Mark spot Alan Titchmarsh with his wife, obviously going somewhere for holiday as well. He was wearing a pinstripe suite and looked fairly relaxed. I have seen some of his programmes about British natural history and found them very informative and interesting.
The BMI flight to Palma landed on time, and when we were going through the passport control area at Palma airport, the guy studied my passport with great interest and curiosity, flipping the pages and looking at the 30something stamps I got on my passport. He finally stamped on my rather busy looking passport and let me through. Mark was just behind me and passed through within a second, he said “that guy must have found your passport very unusual, he probably rarely came across a Chinese passport”. I looked around, well, it is fair to say that you don’t see many Chinese tourists around here.
We were lucky to get on Palma-Soller train (boasting one of the oldest railways in Europe) just before it departed. The train has a wooden framed body, and in the first two miles it was running on the trail which is laid in the middle of the road with cars driving on the side. I have to admit I haven’t seen any train like this before. And the warm air started blowing in through window, and the mountains dotted with olive trees on the lower slopes came into sight. They have built a lot of terrace fields along the ridges of the mountains, mainly to grow olives, must be hard work in the old days to build them. Under the slightly hazy blue sky, the land looked dry and baked by the sun. This is certainly a very different summer feel compared with the washed out wet English summer we had so far.
After going through a few long dark tunnels, the train finally pulled into the station Soller. We were delighted to find the fresh lemon juice at the booth by the train station, that is what we needed on a hot Spanish summer day. After a quick lunch, we got a cab to Deia, a small town (or rather a village) where we would be staying. We arrived at our hotel, a smart and cozy four storey house built on the hill.
In the early evening, we had a stroll around the main street in the village. The 500 metre long street is obviously the centre of the actions. Restaurants, cafes and shops have a warm and laidback style which suits the taste of holiday makers here. We had a few cold beers in Bar de fonda, the most popular (well, they have a few bars in the village anyway) there. Mark told me this was a lively place in summer nights, and he had been here during his previous visits. While we were having some cold Spanish beer, he said “I think I know that guy over there, his name is Paul, I met him five years ago when I was here, but I think he doesn’t recognize me anymore.” Following his eyes, I found a 70someting man having a conversation with a lady in the table just around the corner. Mark then told me the story of this man and what his friends told him. He had met Paul a few times in this bar, and had to buy him drinks every time they met. First he thought Paul was a unsuccessful artist so he couldn’t afford any drinks even he likes to hang out in bars in the evenings. But later on he got to know Paul’s friends who told him that Paul is basically very mean but he is a rich man. He has a big house with swimming pool in Paris, and a nice house in New York (where he is from). He had a beautiful wife who gave up her career to be with him but he was so tight with money that they had to eat very poorly and he never wanted to buy her any clothes. They finally got divorced. And his friends told Mark “you are not alone, he doesn’t want to buy any drinks when he goes out, he always expects someone to buy drinks for him.” After I heard the story, I said to Mark, “let’s see if he will be successful tonight to get any free drinks.”
Deia is not new for artists, in the 1930s and post war period, the English Robert Graves lived here, which largely expanded its fame as a beautiful and charming village tucked in a picturesque valley surrounded by mountains. Most of houses are built along the slopes of the mountains, with lavish sub tropical trees and flowers running up and down the hill, and ocean on one side, no wonder artists found their muse here.
The next morning, we woke up to the roosters's crow, it was only 5 clock in the morning, I was a bit annoyed, and realized it's been a long long time since I heard the rooster crow. I guess the people in the village used to this and they are not bothered at all. The nearest beach Cala de Deia is only 20 minutes walk from our hotel, and it is a enjoyable walk, in which you walk through the fairly dry ground (no green grass as you would find everywhere in England), you can see a variety of trees here on the side of the trail. It seems there is an oversupply of lemons here, we saw a lot of lemons rotting in the trees or on the ground. I guess there are too many of them here they can’t even bother to pick and sell them since the price is probably quite low.
The beach itself is not fantastic, it is not a sandy beach but the rocky cove looks nice in a fine day. There is a small beach café/restaurant nearby, serving very good fresh fish from their daily catch. We had two superb lunches and enjoyed our lazy time on the beach. It was a local/tourist mixed crowd on the beach, and surprisingly I saw quite a few attractive women going topless on the beach. Europeans are generally quite liberal and have no problem with nudity. Although I remember last time in Phuket the only topless women I saw were some old Nordic women (Sorry to say but I don’t think sagging and loose skin is particularly nice to show off). Maybe I am just being too conscious of image.
In our second evening, while we were having dinner at the most popular restaurant, we saw Paul again, this with another lady and they seemed to get along well. During the course of our dinner, they had two glasses of wine. Guess who is paying? Well, we wouldn’t know, would we? Anyway, stop being so nossy!
Most of the tourists here are British, but there are quite many Germans now as well in Majorca. During our last night there, we were hanging out in Café Fonda again as we heard some live music coming from there. The lead vocal in the band is a short and slim girl with a nice voice, she sung a few police and Sting song with a big pop flavour in them. She definitely got the crowd going, who were genuinely happy to be engaged in music and the moves. We were dancing with the crowd, a mix of local and tourists/expats, we noticed a few Germans around us were not participating in the dancing/singing scene. Well, maybe some of them are a bit square minded, but for us, it is all good fun and who cares if we behaved a bit silly?!
It was almost midnight when we left the bar Fonda, we decided to have a walk around village. It was our last night there and we wanted to make the best out of this trip. In the travel book it says under moonlight Deia looks at its best, and I found it is not just a self boasting statement. It is mostly quiet on the street except the noises from the drinking crowd in bar Fonda, we walked up and down on the pavement through the village, occasionally seeing one or two people strolling by. There were many stars in the sky, some of them are very bright and blinking from time to time. The night scene were outlined by dark mountains and shades of the trees and houses dotted on the hills. A cat came out of some’s house while we were sitting on a small panel by the water. Listening to the streams quietly running behind us, I said to myself this is definitely tranquil place compared with ever bustling London, and compared with Barcelona, this is a more a coutryside feel than a city.
It was a wonderful trip, we enjoyed the sun, the ocean, the picturesque village Deia and certainly the lovely Spanish food that spice up your appetite.
It was an early morning flight, the security check at terminal 1 heathrow was quite smooth. When we were getting our breakfast at Café Nero, Mark spot Alan Titchmarsh with his wife, obviously going somewhere for holiday as well. He was wearing a pinstripe suite and looked fairly relaxed. I have seen some of his programmes about British natural history and found them very informative and interesting.
The BMI flight to Palma landed on time, and when we were going through the passport control area at Palma airport, the guy studied my passport with great interest and curiosity, flipping the pages and looking at the 30something stamps I got on my passport. He finally stamped on my rather busy looking passport and let me through. Mark was just behind me and passed through within a second, he said “that guy must have found your passport very unusual, he probably rarely came across a Chinese passport”. I looked around, well, it is fair to say that you don’t see many Chinese tourists around here.
We were lucky to get on Palma-Soller train (boasting one of the oldest railways in Europe) just before it departed. The train has a wooden framed body, and in the first two miles it was running on the trail which is laid in the middle of the road with cars driving on the side. I have to admit I haven’t seen any train like this before. And the warm air started blowing in through window, and the mountains dotted with olive trees on the lower slopes came into sight. They have built a lot of terrace fields along the ridges of the mountains, mainly to grow olives, must be hard work in the old days to build them. Under the slightly hazy blue sky, the land looked dry and baked by the sun. This is certainly a very different summer feel compared with the washed out wet English summer we had so far.
After going through a few long dark tunnels, the train finally pulled into the station Soller. We were delighted to find the fresh lemon juice at the booth by the train station, that is what we needed on a hot Spanish summer day. After a quick lunch, we got a cab to Deia, a small town (or rather a village) where we would be staying. We arrived at our hotel, a smart and cozy four storey house built on the hill.
In the early evening, we had a stroll around the main street in the village. The 500 metre long street is obviously the centre of the actions. Restaurants, cafes and shops have a warm and laidback style which suits the taste of holiday makers here. We had a few cold beers in Bar de fonda, the most popular (well, they have a few bars in the village anyway) there. Mark told me this was a lively place in summer nights, and he had been here during his previous visits. While we were having some cold Spanish beer, he said “I think I know that guy over there, his name is Paul, I met him five years ago when I was here, but I think he doesn’t recognize me anymore.” Following his eyes, I found a 70someting man having a conversation with a lady in the table just around the corner. Mark then told me the story of this man and what his friends told him. He had met Paul a few times in this bar, and had to buy him drinks every time they met. First he thought Paul was a unsuccessful artist so he couldn’t afford any drinks even he likes to hang out in bars in the evenings. But later on he got to know Paul’s friends who told him that Paul is basically very mean but he is a rich man. He has a big house with swimming pool in Paris, and a nice house in New York (where he is from). He had a beautiful wife who gave up her career to be with him but he was so tight with money that they had to eat very poorly and he never wanted to buy her any clothes. They finally got divorced. And his friends told Mark “you are not alone, he doesn’t want to buy any drinks when he goes out, he always expects someone to buy drinks for him.” After I heard the story, I said to Mark, “let’s see if he will be successful tonight to get any free drinks.”
Deia is not new for artists, in the 1930s and post war period, the English Robert Graves lived here, which largely expanded its fame as a beautiful and charming village tucked in a picturesque valley surrounded by mountains. Most of houses are built along the slopes of the mountains, with lavish sub tropical trees and flowers running up and down the hill, and ocean on one side, no wonder artists found their muse here.
The next morning, we woke up to the roosters's crow, it was only 5 clock in the morning, I was a bit annoyed, and realized it's been a long long time since I heard the rooster crow. I guess the people in the village used to this and they are not bothered at all. The nearest beach Cala de Deia is only 20 minutes walk from our hotel, and it is a enjoyable walk, in which you walk through the fairly dry ground (no green grass as you would find everywhere in England), you can see a variety of trees here on the side of the trail. It seems there is an oversupply of lemons here, we saw a lot of lemons rotting in the trees or on the ground. I guess there are too many of them here they can’t even bother to pick and sell them since the price is probably quite low.
The beach itself is not fantastic, it is not a sandy beach but the rocky cove looks nice in a fine day. There is a small beach café/restaurant nearby, serving very good fresh fish from their daily catch. We had two superb lunches and enjoyed our lazy time on the beach. It was a local/tourist mixed crowd on the beach, and surprisingly I saw quite a few attractive women going topless on the beach. Europeans are generally quite liberal and have no problem with nudity. Although I remember last time in Phuket the only topless women I saw were some old Nordic women (Sorry to say but I don’t think sagging and loose skin is particularly nice to show off). Maybe I am just being too conscious of image.
In our second evening, while we were having dinner at the most popular restaurant, we saw Paul again, this with another lady and they seemed to get along well. During the course of our dinner, they had two glasses of wine. Guess who is paying? Well, we wouldn’t know, would we? Anyway, stop being so nossy!
Most of the tourists here are British, but there are quite many Germans now as well in Majorca. During our last night there, we were hanging out in Café Fonda again as we heard some live music coming from there. The lead vocal in the band is a short and slim girl with a nice voice, she sung a few police and Sting song with a big pop flavour in them. She definitely got the crowd going, who were genuinely happy to be engaged in music and the moves. We were dancing with the crowd, a mix of local and tourists/expats, we noticed a few Germans around us were not participating in the dancing/singing scene. Well, maybe some of them are a bit square minded, but for us, it is all good fun and who cares if we behaved a bit silly?!
It was almost midnight when we left the bar Fonda, we decided to have a walk around village. It was our last night there and we wanted to make the best out of this trip. In the travel book it says under moonlight Deia looks at its best, and I found it is not just a self boasting statement. It is mostly quiet on the street except the noises from the drinking crowd in bar Fonda, we walked up and down on the pavement through the village, occasionally seeing one or two people strolling by. There were many stars in the sky, some of them are very bright and blinking from time to time. The night scene were outlined by dark mountains and shades of the trees and houses dotted on the hills. A cat came out of some’s house while we were sitting on a small panel by the water. Listening to the streams quietly running behind us, I said to myself this is definitely tranquil place compared with ever bustling London, and compared with Barcelona, this is a more a coutryside feel than a city.
It was a wonderful trip, we enjoyed the sun, the ocean, the picturesque village Deia and certainly the lovely Spanish food that spice up your appetite.
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