Friday 4 October. We were a bit nervous about the arrangements for getting from Mallorca to Menorca. We were travelling by ferry, so had to get to Port d’Alcúdia – a 45 minute drive – to catch the boat at 9am. We had a rental car from a local firm called Roig, and this had to be dropped off at Port d’Alcúdia’s Avis office; the official opening time of the office is 9am, so special arrangements were needed. Our Castaways rep, Jane, had contacted Avis to ensure that someone would be at the office at 8am, and that someone would call a taxi for us once we’d handed the car over. This is exactly the sort of plan which looks good on paper but can go disastrously wrong in real life, hence our apprehension.

It seems that the only time we have to get up in the dark these days is when we’re on holiday.

All the above meant leaving the hotel at 7am, well before their breakfast service, and we’d arranged to be given a packed meal to take with us. This was ready for us and so we left the Hermitage – which has been a wonderful place to stay – bang on time, with the satnav programmed to guide us to the Avis office and Jane prepped with a Google map to take us to a petrol station so we could refuel before leaving the car. Apart from getting stuck behind the council dustcart in Port d’Alcúdia, the journey was uneventful and we arrived good and early at the Avis office. Fortunately, so did the lady to whom we had to hand the car over, so we got that admin done promptly and she arranged a taxi for us which also turned up within minutes.

So we arrived at the ferry terminal in good time, joined the boarding security queue (I was glad at this point that I had packed my penknife in my suitcase) and headed for our ferry.

Now that we were on board and everything looked set fair for our journey, we suddenly realised we were ravenous, so tore into our packed breakfast – a ham roll and a banana – with relish. The boat set off a couple of minutes early and we had an uneventful journey. It was a little rocky in places, and a couple of passengers got quite queasy, but we arrived on time after 90 minutes in transit ferry.

The ferry from Mallorca arrives in Ciutadella, the old capital of Menorca, which is at the opposite end of the island from the new capital, Mahon (Maó in the local, Catalan-based, dialect) and, after a long walk from ferry to terminal building, we were met by a young lad called Sam who had excellent English and a nice Merc. He smoothly drove us the 45 minutes to Mahon and explained a few things about the island as we went; it transpired that his excellent English came from a bi-lingual upbringing, as his mother hailed from Bristol.

Sam dropped us off by our hotel, the Hevresac (yes, it means haversack) and we had our first initiative test of the day, which was to find out how to get in to it, as neither of the doors would actually open. Rattling the doors had the desired effect, and a lovely lass called Agustina opened up, let us in and checked us in. The minimalist nature of the hotel was underlined by the reception desk

and the check in process (Agustina used a mobile phone to photograph our passports and to record our signatures – very trendy and modern!). The hotel itself is more like a sophisticated and delightfully quirky B&B – common breakfast room and lounge areas, kitchen facilities we can use, that kind of thing; and the decor is very individual. Here, for example, is the breakfast room where I have been slaving over a hot blog.

Our bedroom is very quirky, too, as are the other areas of the place, like the lounge;

and here’s a view down the stairs.

Whilst we had a quick coffee, our room was finally made ready and so we dropped our stuff off before heading out for a mooch around.

Initial impressions of Mahon: favourable. Just down the (very narrow) road from our hotel was a mirador which gave a great view over the port and harbour of Mahon.

The harbour is the only large thing about Mahon – it is the biggest natural harbour in the Mediterranean, as we were about to discover; everything else is on a much smaller scale, with narrow streets and tight corners. We decided to walk out along the top of the cliff on the south side of the harbour and were rewarded by some nice views as its scale became clearer.

After about half an hour, thoughts of lunch began forming in our minds, and then suddenly we were assailed by the smell of fish cooking, so we decided to seek the source. We walked down from our clifftop height and started to walk back towards Mahon, and it became immediately clear that there were lots of restaurants at this part of the waterside. So we stopped at one, called Latitud 40, where we were served a nice lunch by a young lad who had very good English; it transpired that his dad was British and he’d lived in London for a year.

After lunch we continued our walk back along the waterside back to Mahon, past a ceaseless array of restaurants. Our hotel only serves breakfast, but we’ll be eating well this week, I’m sure. Then we worked our way back up into the town from the harbourside

and were rewarded by more harbour views

as well as getting a feeling for the many pleasant corners of the town.

The penultimate thing we did was to pop into the main church, Santa Maria

with its mighty organ (stop sniggering at the back!)

before heading back to the hotel via the ultimate thing, which was to find some gin and some tonic, which are fuelling my creative stream at this very moment of typing.

So, our final week of this holiday stretches before us, with many options of things to do (including norralot, of course; this is, after all, a holiday). We’re thinking maybe of experimenting with catching the bus to Ciutadella tomorrow, as this reportedly has a delightful old town. Drop by tomorrow to see what we eventually did get up to, why don’t you?

Thursday 3 October. Since we have to leave the hotel early tomorrow – no, really early, like before breakfast is served – we did as much packing as was practicable and went to settle our bill, with some trepidation, I might add, as we’d racked up quite a bar bill (this is a holiday, you understand, not like normal life).  Actually, the bill was about half what I’d dreaded, which was some relief.

So it was that at 1230 a taxi came to take us to the nearest bank, which was in Alaró, so that we could pay our parking penalty and then deposit us safely in Palma so that we didn’t have to deal with the parking.  It’s an expensive way round the problem, but very much more relaxing.

The transaction in Alaró was not quite straightforward, in two respects: firstly, the taxi couldn’t drop us off outside the bank because Something, if not yet actually happening right now, Was Going On later.

So we had to hurry a 100 yards or so to the bank.  We presented the penalty notice to the cashier, who understood exactly what was needed; but shook her head when we presented a debit card, telling us that if we wanted to pay with that, we’d have to go to an ATM to complete the transaction.  Since this would have involved understanding payment instructions in Spanish, this would be a poor idea, so we gave her cash. This is the first instance that I can remember that a banking terminal can achieve more than a human bank cashier.  Next stop – Skynet.

Next stop, then, Palma.  We had decided to start at the outside and work in, starting at Castell Bellver and walking to the Cathedral, which was one of the two places we wanted to make sure we visited before we left Mallorca, quite possibly never to return.  For the other one, keep reading.

Castell Bellver is a small but well-formed castle on a hill overlooking Palma.  It’s a reasonably impressive lump of masonry

and is worth a visit, either just to see the central courtyard

or to climb to the highest point allowed, where you get a great view over Palma

including the massive cathedral

and a chance to see some of the massive cruise liners bringing the tourists in

a mixed blessing, as with places like Dubrovnik and Venice. (On the left, above, is Independence of the Seas, a 15-deck ship that can accommodate 4,370 passengers served by 1,360 crew).

Anyhoo, there is much to see and photograph at Castell Bellver and I recommend you visit, should you go to Palma, so I won’t bore you with many more photos, beyond noting that people’s desire to write on walls seems to be a universal drive (see the middle text).

There is, among other things, an exhibition about the history of Palma, which gives lots of historical information. After our visit there (and a beer stop in the cafe), we walked down into Palma, via a pleasant walkway

which then, via a certain amount of dodging about, takes you to the Paseo Maritimo, a waterside walkway that extends several kilometres into and past Palma.

We walked along the approximately 4km to the cathedral, which was perfectly fine barring the odd occasional need to take a little care.

As you approach the cathedral, you start to get a sense of the city’s history through its architecture; here, for example, is a detail from the fort near the cathedral

and several old windmills can also be seen as well as some attractive older buildings.

The cathedral itself is well worth a visit. As you’ll have noted from photos above, it’s vast, and once inside you get the feeling of a huge space.

with some extensive stained glass

and a massive canopy for the altar, which, we understand, a certain Mr Gaudi had a hand in designing before he apparently left the project in a marked manner.

Outside it is a reasonably recent lake, which offers a fine view of the cathedral and the palace next to it.

as well as some of the other attractive buildings in the city’s old quarter.

We needed to kill time until 8pm (see later) so wandered round the old town, which has many attractive sights.

and also some striking modernist architecture

(on the left above, Can Forteza Rey is also a building which, it is thought, that Gaudi may have had a hand in designing)

as well as some aptly-named cafes

We took cocktails at a restaurant called Detapas in one of the many squares in the area, and then a very fine dinner at a place called the Seahorse – Caballito de Mar, as the locals have it, where they still show you your food before they cook it for you

(mind you, I had steak!).

And then it was 8pm and time for our date with one of our favourite cocktail bars.

This is a quite extraordinary place, with a rococo theme. Here are some of the many photos I took.

Normally, they don’t allow people to take photos, but no-one seemed to care any more, as the place was set at the time, tragically, to close that December*, so I was anxious to immortalise it in electrons.  I’ll publish a Flickr album soon, as my record of a wonderful place.  Not cheap, mind – a glass of Cava and a G&T cost €31!

After just the one round of drinks, we left Abaco and sought a taxi to take us back to the hotel.  There were taxis freely available, and one lady driver drew the short straw of having to get us back to the Hermitage.  She set her satnav up and then (having never, she explained to us later, driven to Orient before) ignored its directions in order to drive a route which was fewer kilometres – but thus had to navigate the twisty bit between Bunyola and our hotel.  This is bad enough in daylight, but in the dark it’s quite daunting, as she found out.  I always thought that “Madre de Dios!” was an exclamation only used by cartoon Spaniards, just like “Donner und Blitzen” is for cartoon Germans.  Turns out I was wrong, as she muttered this virtually ceaselessly for the 10km of intestinal twists and turns leading to our hotel.  But she got us back safely, and for a reasonable price, so we were grateful for that.

Thus ended a very splendid day, full of agreeable experiences and unexpected pleasures.  It’s nice to have days like this now and then.  And so it was time for bed, and with an early start for the morrow, when we transfer to Menorca via returning our hire car in Alcudia and then taking a taxi to the ferry.  In theory, there is a plan to make sure this happens smoothly and in a  timely fashion.

Fingers crossed!

* Update: Abaco has been saved!  Some kind of deal was struck and so it still appears to be open.  If you can, go.  It’s a sight worth seeing.

Wednesday 2 October. From the point of view of dedicated tourism, today was not our finest hour.  Here is a clue as to why it didn’t start so well.

If this isn’t too clear, here’s a closer view.

And for those with really crap eyesight or web browsers, here’s the clincher.

Yup, it was raining – actually really tipping it down, with thunder (and lightning, I suppose, even if we couldn’t see it) and everything. Being citizens of the digital age and having consulted the weather forecast, we weren’t taken by surprise (except, perhaps, by the intensity of the downpour, which was quite, erm, intense), so we sat on the balcony of our room and watched it rain, and I took the opportunity to catch up with some photo processing, so now there is an album on Flickr of many more photos from the Palau Musica in Barcelona

and another on Sagrada Familia.

There’s a short video containing extra clips from Gaudi’s “La Pedrera” as well

so the morning wasn’t entirely a dead loss.

Anyhoo.  We knew the rain would ease off, and so formed a plan which said we should head over to Port Andrex Andratx for A Nice Fish Lunch and then get into Palma for a chance to visit the vast cathedral (among other places) before dinner and a visit to a bar called Abaco in Palma’s old town, a real rococo establishment which I have immortalised before in pictures.

It all started so well – we got the car satnav to admit the existence of Port Anthrax Andratx and off we went.  Once we arrived, however, we realised that we’d left it a bit late and we wouldn’t have time, if we took lunch, to get to Palma’s cathedral while it was still open.  So (via refuelling the car, in itself a minor adventure) we headed off to Palma.

We thought that it might be tricky to find somewhere to park in Palma, but We Had A Plan (based on intelligence gained through Google Maps) of where we could aim for. Alas, the stark reality of the impact of tourism, the automotive industry and the exigencies of driving an unfamiliar  car on the wrong side of the road bore in on us fairly quickly after hitting Palma’s Paseo Maritimo.  It was clear that a miracle was needed to get us parked.  Sadly, one wasn’t forthcoming and so, after some fairly tense road junction experiences, we collectively said “fuck it, let’s go back to the hotel.”

And so, dear reader, we did, pausing only to wonder what was the green piece of paper under the windscreen wiper that we hadn’t noticed before. It turns out that it was a (damp) penalty notice for parking in the wrong sort of parking place when we fondly believed we were legitimately parked in the multi-storey car park in Port de Soller. We will never find out what our exact infringement was, merely being able to observe that our window to pay the cheaper penalty of just €15 had passed and that if we were swift we could get 50% off the full penalty fee of €80.

Chuntering somewhat at the complete unfairness of tourist life, we arrived back at the hotel in time for a couple of drinks before dinner during which Jane persuaded me that we should shell out ludicrous amounts of money on a taxi ride into Palma tomorrow (via a bank to pay the fucking parking penalty) so that we don’t miss out on cocktails at Abaco the cathedral.  That’s the plan as it stands, and I hope to be able to report on a success rate for it that’s somewhat better than today’s.

Watch this space….

*OK, not abject.  But pretty pathetic, honestly.