Post #24: Mallorca, Spain
So the only reason that I’ve ever heard of Mallorca is because it is the home town of one of tennis’ best players, Rafael Nadal. While an excellent player, he takes himself too seriously and picks his ass before every point, so he’s not my cup of tea. Sorry, SB.
I had intended on Portugal being the 2nd stop on my trip, but they are still limited by Covid, so I decided to substitute Mallorca. After all, it’s a short flight from Madrid, I can visit a beautiful place, and I can get some tennis in. My tennis instructor from the DR was from Mallorca, and he said that Palma is the place to go when visiting.
As an aside, while I’m moderately successful, I also like to get deals on basically everything; and travel is no different. I’m used to spending $1200 per month for a totally baller apartment in the DR, but I simply can’t replicate those figures in most major EU cities that cater to the wealthy. When checking out the hotels and Airbnb’s, it looked like I’d need to shell out a minimum of $200 per night. Then I came across a unique Airbnb that was centrally located, had a beautiful pool, and was only like $50/night. The catch is that I’d be sharing an apartment with other people, and my bedroom was small. The reviews were almost exclusively awesome, so I decided to take a chance on it. After all, I’d hoped that I wouldn’t be in the apartment much anyway.
As soon as I settled into the apartment, I was off and running. I visited their gorgeous beach, toured the major tourist district and went to a tennis club to compete against the locals.
I was expecting to be crushed at the tennis club, but I ended up being dominant, as I have been accustomed to. On night 1, I got home at around midnight after playing tennis for maybe 2 hours and then eating Indian food. My clothing was saturated with sweat and it was time to use the shared shower. I had never experienced a shower like this. It seemed more appropriate as an industrial sink than a shower for humans. I got into the basin in a crouched position, to avoid hitting my head. I attempted to cradle the hand shower in the mount on the wall, but quickly realized that there was no available angle from which the water would do its job without splashing everywhere. I felt like a contortionist, but ultimately it did the job.
Utterly exhausted, I was able to pass out in the prison cot that was my bed. The pillbox that was my room had no AC, so the window was cracked for some fresh, cool air. Naturally, mosquitos flew into my room and woke me up by buzzing around my ears. For the next little while I stood like a soldier with a rolled up t-shirt attempting to spot and murder these invasive pests. It was at this time that I decided to overspend on a nicer place in Paris.
My Airbnb host couldn’t have been nicer, but that place wasn’t for someone like me. Then again, for the right budget minded hippie, it would be a dream. After all, check out her living room!
The following morning I took a recommendation from a friend and went for breakfast at a restaurant that was popular to Spanish royalty. It was solid, but I’ve had better. The cool thing was that it was on the water and dozens of mega yachts were docked outside.
After breakfast, I had scheduled a speedboat ride that included cliff diving, snorkeling and other water sports. The group was me, and a gaggle of female college students from the UK. It was actually a lot of fun, and I was amused by their teeny bopper music and how they were deathly afraid of jellyfish. I actually got stung by one, and it wasn’t so terrible. They enjoyed waiving and being waived to by the people that we were passing, until we came across a fully nude woman relaxing on a rock. I challenged them on why they weren’t waiving to this person, and I ended up waiving at her.
One of my favorite stops at any destination is a local food market, especially if they have specialty foods. In NY, my favorite is Chelsea Market. I went to such a market in Mallorca multiple times, and it didn’t disappoint. The pics below are from multiple visits:
After my final breakfast and stroll through Old Palma, I came across one bird picking apart the carcass of another, and I thought that it’s probably time to go to Paris. Everybody has a different travel style. Personally I was diagnosed with ADHD as a child (probably bullshit, I’m just highly energetic), and as such, my preference is to stay for only a short time in a given country, experience the sights in a matter of days, and then move on to the next. To me, the sign of a good trip is that you’d still want to stay a little bit longer. If you’re getting sick of the place that you’re visiting and are looking forward to getting home, you probably overstayed your vacation. I’m not sure if this applies to relationships too; those suck when they get stale too.
Final Reflections
Mallorca is an awesome beach destination to visit for a few days, but expect to drop some serious change. And I got a like on Tinder that amused me.
