Just spent a week of walking on Mallorca. The walking was fine but I've done my dash with Spain I'm afraid. This being about my 6th walk in Spain I was quite looking forward to it but found, when I got there, my sense of excitement about the place had largely gone.
It is very touristed, mainly by Germans and English who have been coming here for years. Great to see so many young and old out and about. There are squadrons of lycra-ed cyclists going up and down very big hills. Mountain bikers too. Lots of walkers. Then there are the extreme runners - those who run the mountain trails - half dancing, half prancing over the steep stony broken paths as if they were running over hot coals. I plod along, envious of their lithe agility and trying not to ogle their well formed bodies – or at least to be seen doing so.
The coast is quite dramatic with great views.
There were the inevitable olive groves and some very old trees that had contorted well beyond anything you might see in a Hollywood horror tale.
These white asphodels, in mythology associated with death, are widespread.
I thought these amphorae looked a bit ectoplasmic, waiting the be fed.
The capital Palma has all the hallmarks of a party town with lots of very hip bars.
There was some serious money down at the marina - and many a young attractive student of art history waiting to be shown collections of etchings.
The old town is quite atmospheric so I went looking for an old Viennese style coffee house. I ended up outside the United Colours of Benetton store looking across the street to the Gucci shop - I knew I was in the wrong place.
But there was this very cute art nouveau shop/apartment building.
