Bajo las Palmas

            This weekend we found ourselves relaxing “bajo las palmas”, or “under the palm trees” of a little Spanish island by the name of Palma de Mallorca. I knew that I would love this place as our plane began its descent through the clouds, revealing a little green sliver of land surrounded by the pink reflection of the most beautiful sunrise I have ever witnessed in my entire life. I’m not exaggerating. iPhone pictures do no justice.

It began as a fiery streak dividing the sky and the water, a burning laser beam marking the end of the earth, a bright red light quickly enveloped by brooding clouds concealing everything but a reddish glow on the waters below it. The scene quickly evolved before my eyes, every second a new color was added to the sky, a new cloud configuration, a new reflection in the water. One of God’s masterpieces. What a wonderful Maker.

As we unloaded the plane, we were pleasantly surprised to not feel the winter chill we’ve grown used to in Switzerland. We were greeted by blue skies, swaying palms, friendly locals, and the Mediterranean Sea—an unexpected paradise for a couple of Swiss study abroads to defrost for the weekend. To add to this high, Megan and I made it to our hostel without getting lost, which is breaking record for us!

Upon arriving at Hostal Atlanta, we were very kindly welcomed by the owner who took the time to explain the island maps, give us recommendations, and direct us to our room for the weekend. After settling into our room (and by that I mean dropping our backpacks onto the beds), we headed out to explore the city.

First stop, a cute little restaurant with an ocean view patio with perfect beachy vibes and some strong coffee. Afterwards, we spent hours walking the path along the shore, the sound of the waves pounding on the rocks to our left, and bright little Spanish cottages and restaurants to our right.

It took a while before the drain of a day of travel began to take a toll. By 1 PM, we were miles away from the hostel and running on 3 hours of sleep, 1 cup of coffee, and the urgency to find a bathroom (a constant dilemma in Europe) and lunch for some much-needed nourishment and break for our feet.

  

The pain was well worth it when we were able to sit down for some paella, the most delicious dish on the planet, at a place called Tapas Club. For ten euros each, Megan and I shared a generous amount of paella with a clear ocean view from our table. With our bellies full, feet slightly rested, and hearts content again, we set out towards the hostel.

Megan and I have this tendency to walk really far before we realize that we have to make it back to the starting point somehow. This was no exception. The walk along the coast was beautiful and exciting, but our feet were definitely crying after walking 20 miles that day.

We decided to take it easy the following day by just hanging out at the beach. While the weather there was quite nice compared to Switzerland, Mallorca was experiencing a little cold spell, so Megan and I seemed to be the only souls to brave the beach in bathing suits. We had a blast making music videos and running along the shore, but the beach day didn’t last very long in the windy conditions. Looking for a snack to sustain us until dinner, we befriended the owners of a little restaurant called Del Sol, which we found ourselves visiting quite a few times the rest of the weekend.

Sunday was Valentine’s Day, so Megan and I spent the day biking to the Catedral de Mallorca, eating ice cream, and looking for souvenirs to bring back home. Though the day started off hazy and cold, the sun broke through the clouds as we neared the cathedral, making it a wonderful day for ice cream (even more so than usual, since it's always a great time for ice cream). 

That night, around 4 PM, we were confused as to why a lot of places looked like they were closing. Turns out they were. Turns out that everything closes around that time in Mallorca during the winter. EVEN ON VALENTINE’S DAY. Megan and I tried several places, determined to sit down for a nice Valentine’s dinner.

Finally, we were seated at a fancy table at a restaurant called Varadero Beach. They had begun to close the kitchen (many places close their kitchens a few hours before closing the bars) but there were still plenty of people there, and the owner, Vicente, was kind enough to see what he could do for us.

They served us some grilled fish, potatoes, a salad, and some delicious bread with some equally delicious garlicky spread. It was a GREAT dinner. The owner and all the waiters were extremely friendly and switched back and forth from English to Spanish as they conversed with us. The lovely evening was topped with some exquisite chocolate and coffee ice cream and cheerful “goodbyes” and “come back agains” as we departed back to our hostel.

Megan and I agreed that we’d love to come back to Mallorca. Everything about the island, from the locals to the palms made this experience amazing. Funny how you can visit a place that’s thousands of miles form home, yet still feel as if you could walk a minute’s distance and find yourself wrapped in a familiar embrace, cuddled in your own bed, gathered around the dinner table laughing and reminiscing about the good ol’ days. Mallorca definitely swept me into a sweetly familiar embrace with the people’s unbelievable hospitality, the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks, and the mouth-watering paella I wouldn’t mind eating for the rest of my days.

Hasta luego,

Lisa y Megan