“This is the à la carte, sir. But if you like, today we have the mushroom menu. It is with local mushrooms from the chef. It starts with…”

“I’ll have the mushroom menu.”

“… a mushroom soup with local meatballs. Then salmon with local mushrooms duxelles…”

“I’ll have the mushroom menu please.”

“… and then a burger… You’ll have the mushroom menu?”

“Yes please. I will have the mushroom menu.”

Majorca. A seaside resort. I am staying in Hotel Miramar in Port Soller. If you were wondering where summer had got to, it’s hanging out here with me.

No need to rent a car. Bergman and I are having this adventure together.

The ferry was late to depart, which I was thrilled about. I was in a cabin. It was due in at 6am but it was closer to 7 by the time I was woken up by shouting. The ferry goes on to Ibiza and then all the way to Tangiers. I don’t think Bergman and I are quite ready to hit the roads of North Africa. For that I’ll need better mechanical aptitude. I woke and dressed fast, but thankfully I was in plenty of time to be disgorged into Palma with the dawn.

I couldn’t check in until 2 so I explored the streets of Palma, half zombie, craving coffee. Big stone. Another island. There’s something of the Jersey here again. I even saw a Jersey car. Morning light and lack of crowds found me admiring the architecture. A surreal moment when I saw a horse drawn carriage bearing down on me and knew what people had felt for so many years before cars : that thing isn’t stopping. If I don’t get out of the way this will be messy.

I caught it on the turn

Down to the Parc del Mar, and more sunny wandering. I’m overdressed now. Three days drive and an overnight ferry to summer. The modern world is astonishing. I strolled, half shellshocked and half emotional through warm streets. Big shadows.

Eventually I get as far as Port Soller, and I’m running out of gas. I find good parking for Bergman and then I’m just spent. I check in. They give me a cavernous room. I’m here for 3 days… I just about have the energy to ask if there’s a smaller one with, perhaps, a balcony… I go from this:

To this:

I walked into the above room, took all my clothes off, showered and fell asleep in the middle of the day for a clean hour, alert to the noises of the bustle outside but dreaming mad dreams and drooling into my pillow like a happy St Bernard.

Normally in a new place I have a fire under me to explore EVERYTHING. But I’ll be in Uruguay in a week working. I can do all the energetic stuff when it’s my job to know where things are. For now, I’m gonna chill. I went as far as “Balear”, the restaurant where today’s blog started. Now I’m back in bed. It’s not 8 yet. I believe I’m gonna take it easy tomorrow as well. I doubt this will be the only time in my life I’m on this island. They virtually pay you to fly here. I’m gonna take it easy.

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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