Lederhosen and ‘tites
I spent last week in Mallorca with my brother.
We went to Avis on arrival to pick up our cheap web offer hire car. After a chat with the charming trainee we drove out in a brand new black Wrangler Sport Jeep. I love free upgrades.
After being reversed into in the car park we set off to Port de Pollensa (in the north). We established ourselves in a swanky hotel for a couple of nights until we realised that you need gold bars to exist in the predominately British playground. The views were ok but you never really glimpsed the open sea due to the shape of the bay.
On to Port de Alcudia for a spot of package holiday tack, and to reminisce on a holiday there in my late twenties. I think it has taken a major turn for the worse, if that is at all possible. Previously, gentle mannered European visitors mellowed the prevalent mild Magaluf style British culture. This calming influence seemed to have all but dissolved.
The bay was more like an open sewer than I remember it (constant unpleasant wafts) and even the beach bars had lost some of their verve.
One night there, and a sharp exit.
We ended up in Cala Ratjada (north east) a predominantly German resort. Wow, we could finally kick back and enjoy an excellent offering of food, culture and beaches.
German seemed to be the first language, we barely heard any English spoken at all.
The quality of bars, restaurants and accommodation far surpassed anything I had seen in the more British parts of the island. The Germans seem to demand a higher standard than the Brits and at a good price.
Mostly drank carafes of local wine and German beer, which hit the spot.
There are various caves along the east coast. The ‘Coves d’Arta’ were full of stalagmites and ‘tites. Simliar to walking inside the mouth of a giant with no sense of oral hygiene. The tour was very relaxed. So much so that you were allowed to hit some of the limestone pillars to make then ring like bells. It made you feel rather unsettled, like the whole structure might collapse from the reverberating tones.
Not many tourists at all. I expect the last group were buried when an over eager musician hit one too many notes. Our guide seemed to speak every language under the sun, and skilfully made us feel like we were never going to escape.
The other caves’ Coves del Drach’ were unfortunately much more commercial and organised. Literally hundreds of people ventured on our tour. No touching or caressing of the ‘tites and ‘mites allowed.
We were at the front going at a good pace, thinking once you have seen one set of caves you have seen them all. We were wrong. There was an amazing underground lake in one chamber, with a boat housing some musicians performing violin pieces. Shame about the crowds, spoilt it a bit.
Jules Verne was said to have been inspired there while writing ‘Journey to the Center of the Earth’.
Back in Cala Ratjada our Jeep was hit from behind, second bash of the trip.
Luckily the delightful Avis lady possessed the gift of foresight, and had thrown in full insurance.
We went to Avis on arrival to pick up our cheap web offer hire car. After a chat with the charming trainee we drove out in a brand new black Wrangler Sport Jeep. I love free upgrades.
After being reversed into in the car park we set off to Port de Pollensa (in the north). We established ourselves in a swanky hotel for a couple of nights until we realised that you need gold bars to exist in the predominately British playground. The views were ok but you never really glimpsed the open sea due to the shape of the bay.
On to Port de Alcudia for a spot of package holiday tack, and to reminisce on a holiday there in my late twenties. I think it has taken a major turn for the worse, if that is at all possible. Previously, gentle mannered European visitors mellowed the prevalent mild Magaluf style British culture. This calming influence seemed to have all but dissolved.
The bay was more like an open sewer than I remember it (constant unpleasant wafts) and even the beach bars had lost some of their verve.
One night there, and a sharp exit.
We ended up in Cala Ratjada (north east) a predominantly German resort. Wow, we could finally kick back and enjoy an excellent offering of food, culture and beaches.
German seemed to be the first language, we barely heard any English spoken at all.
The quality of bars, restaurants and accommodation far surpassed anything I had seen in the more British parts of the island. The Germans seem to demand a higher standard than the Brits and at a good price.
Mostly drank carafes of local wine and German beer, which hit the spot.
There are various caves along the east coast. The ‘Coves d’Arta’ were full of stalagmites and ‘tites. Simliar to walking inside the mouth of a giant with no sense of oral hygiene. The tour was very relaxed. So much so that you were allowed to hit some of the limestone pillars to make then ring like bells. It made you feel rather unsettled, like the whole structure might collapse from the reverberating tones.
Not many tourists at all. I expect the last group were buried when an over eager musician hit one too many notes. Our guide seemed to speak every language under the sun, and skilfully made us feel like we were never going to escape.
The other caves’ Coves del Drach’ were unfortunately much more commercial and organised. Literally hundreds of people ventured on our tour. No touching or caressing of the ‘tites and ‘mites allowed.
We were at the front going at a good pace, thinking once you have seen one set of caves you have seen them all. We were wrong. There was an amazing underground lake in one chamber, with a boat housing some musicians performing violin pieces. Shame about the crowds, spoilt it a bit.
Jules Verne was said to have been inspired there while writing ‘Journey to the Center of the Earth’.
Back in Cala Ratjada our Jeep was hit from behind, second bash of the trip.
Luckily the delightful Avis lady possessed the gift of foresight, and had thrown in full insurance.
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