Monday 17 June 1996
Departure Day
The day had started badly when the arranged lift for my parents failed to arrive. Sitting in the hot sun, our party of three decided to abandon them to their fate, on the pretence of securing valuable plane seats and took off in a cloud of gravel, bound for Birmingham airport.
Fred met Freddy and did an excellent job of shading the youngest member of our party in the back seat, and we all arrived at the airport without mishap. Having gleaned the check-in desk number from a helpful Sunworld representative, we took up residence next to a crowd of Danish football supporters who were homeward-bound from the Euro 96 festival. We were soon joined by my parents, and my Dad revealed that he'd sent Graham on a wild goose trail to Wellingborough...
At the crucial moment of checking in, Mum and I were feeding baby Sophie and had to be brought back, Sophie dangling from a bottle (I muttered that it was a good job I wasn't breastfeeding...). We were forced to rearrange all of the baby paraphernalia we had with us, to appease the check-in staff.
After this nasty business, and successful in securing the bulkhead seats with a sky cot, we repaired to the pub. Well, the men did, we women carried on feeding and burping.
Thoughts turned to food after the beer and the four of us, plus a sleeping fifth, stuffed sandwiches and pizza washed down with coffee and read the newspapers. Mum and I liberated ourselves and shopped until we dropped before hitting the departure lounge and the Duty-Free shops.
Once inside the confines of the departure lounge, surrounded by bottles of whisky, Sophie fed once again and marvelled at all the new sights and sounds, arms and legs waving about in her excitement. However, once on the plane, it all became a bit too much, and, cradled in Keith's arms, she slept throughout the entire take-off, not paying the slightest bit of attention to the safety announcement.
The sky cot was useful for a few seconds until she woke up and demanded to see everything that was going on, highly amused at the sight of us all trying to eat our in-flight meals without spilling them everywhere. Once we had eaten our lunch, it was time for hers, but the stewardess who was too busy selling duty-free, was a little late in warming up the bottle, and the rest of the plane heard about it...
The landing was a big bore for baby Sophie, despite the turbulence and thick cloud, but an airport arrivals hall is a wonderful place for displaying a poohy nappy! What a greeting for Mallorca!
The Mediterranean island welcomed us with warm weather and sunshine and we had plenty of time to admire the surrounding building sites while waiting for our rental car to be sorted out. We waited, and waited... and waited! Finally, the problem was sorted and we asked if we wanted "Wan ker?" We sincerely hoped we hadn't upset them, but as it turned out we hadn't and they provided a huge stretch limousine to get us to the car hire premises. Baby Sophie recognised this as her true vocation in life and tried to wave to passers-by. It was a shame the windows were backed out...
Another problem surfaced at the car hire premises as they evidently thought we were a travelling troupe of contortionists... A two-door Vauxhall Corsa was offered to us, but we politely told them we didn't think that was a good idea, so they offered us a four-door Corsa instead... This time, my Mum told them what they could do with it, and faced with her fury, we were finally given a Vauxhall Astra estate, with air-conditioning. It pays to complain, you know.
The journey to the villa was, sadly, uneventful. After all the excitement we thought we would at least get lost, but apart from the occasional whimper of a baby that was regularly starved we enjoyed the beautiful scenery en route to Puerto Pollenca.
Our landmark was a tall Cypress tree which my parents recognised from an earlier jaunt to the resort, the villa situated up a narrow track in the middle of arable farmland. Driving through the gates we immediately liked what we saw: an earthy brown villa with a huge courtyard, shuttered windows and gorgeous gardens leading to a pool and barbecue area.
The pool looked very inviting but there was too much exploring to be done, and each new discovery brought gasps of delight from the whole party. The pool was surrounded by lemon and apple trees, and shaded lawns, and the barbecue area had two sinks, work surfaces and a huge bathroom. Flowers and exotic plants grew abundantly, with two palm trees in the courtyard overlooking the farmland beyond.
Inside, the villa was cool and dark, with a small sitting room, a lounge area with a large table and chairs, and a kitchen with an open fireplace. The first bedroom led off the landing and my parents took this room. Further up the stairs were three more bedrooms, completely taken over by us. The view from the shower room was beautiful, and more than made up for the lack of space., the
After a frenzy of unpacking, we drove to Puerto Pollenca for much-needed sustenance - lots of Sangria for the ladies (except Sophie) and beer for the men. Everyone agreed that the villa was perfect, and the setting wonderful.
Puerto Pollenca was very much alive, with young families wandering slowly along the promenade, and even the youngest children having the time of their lives with their families. The front was lined with bars and restaurants, and somewhere Spanish music played softly on the breeze. Uniformed waiters hurried to get orders and everyone looked healthy, relaxed and tanned.
Dinner was eaten at a pizzeria next door to the bar and afterwards, we drove back to the villa to collapse exhausted on our beds.
Relaxing by the pool, and eating!
After breakfast the next day, the whole party descended on the local supermarket and drained it of its beer and wine. These were the most important purchases, closely followed by foodstuffs. The rest of the day was spent around the pool, sleeping, reading and enjoying the local food. Various aperitifs were drunk throughout the day, to keep the fluid levels up.
The days of the first week followed a similar pattern, with the evenings spent in Puerto Pollenca. The best restaurant in the town was El Carno, a Swiss-run establishment that didn't offer small portions. The red cabbage was exquisite, and the steaks tender and delicious, with the salad starter a firm favourite. The staff were very friendly, and the chef remembered Dad from a previous holiday. He looked after us very well!
We ate out at another restaurant in Puerto Pollensa which was on the front and nicknamed "Windy Corner" by us. Our waiter had studied at the school of Basil Fawlty, for he was completely forgetful and Keith had to ask him four times for a beer! The food here was disappointing but was one of the most expensive meals of the holiday. We sat in a Force 10 gale, and this time Sophie was awake while we ate, but was happy and smiling. One poor couple had to take turns eating, as their crying baby refused to go to sleep. Sophie was mesmerised by the lights swinging in the wind and the leaves of a tree above us and enjoyed everything that was going on.
A trip to Soller
On the first Thursday of the holiday, we took the car over the mountains to the fishing village of Soller, stopping at a monastery on the way. There were crowds of tourists at the monastery, with several huge tour buses turning up and disgorging Spaniards, Germans and Brits. We wandered about in the heat and enjoyed a beer in the café while discussing the various types of mosquito killers available. Apart from baby Sophie, we had all been afflicted with bites, and Sophie escaped by being covered in repellent and having a net covering her pushchair at night to keep the little buggers at bay.
The road to Soller was beautiful and twists and turns through tree-covered mountains. We were glad of the air conditioning in the car as the outside temperature was in the 90s. Parking on the outskirts of Soller, we walked along her bottle, and in the end, Keith used his beer glass. What an excuse to have another drink!
After lunch, we ambled into town and waited for the little train to take us back to the car. The train goes all the way to Palma, winding its way through the high mountains and must be a spectacular journey. The trip back to the car didn't take long, but it was lovely to see the bay again and Sophie enjoyed sitting on Mum's lap and being admired by several Spanish grandmothers. Everywhere she went she was cooed over and praised. We hope it doesn't go to her head!
We took the scenic route back to Puerto Pollenca, a mountainous road that included a long section of hairpin bends. A driver behind us, who was obviously local, overtook us on a bend and then signalled for the driver behind him to do the same!
Fun in the pool!
A trip to nearby Cala San Vicente one afternoon offered us the chance to buy two huge rings, which we used to race against each other in the pool. Keith and I sat into the hole in the middle with our legs dangling over the edge, and we used our arms to propel ourselves along. This was done with the accompaniment of much yelling and screaming, which set off all the neighbourhood dogs.
My Mum was too nervous about deep water to venture away from the shallow end until my Dad dragged her out to the middle. The screaming this time could have been heard in Palma! The rubber rings were also great for lazing about in the pool, wearing a big hat and enjoying a cool drink; it was heaven.
England v Spain
On the first Saturday, the men decided to watch England play Spain in the Euros at a bar in Cala San Vicente. The ladies opted for a lazy afternoon around the pool, which was much more sensible in the heat. Much sleeping, eating and drinking took place in the villa in the peace of the afternoon. It was very quiet with only the occasional overhead aircraft breaking the silence. Even the cockerels were asleep.
The men returned, jubilant, after the English defeated the Spaniards on a penalty shoot-out. The atmosphere in the bar had been good-natured, though, with the Spanish gracious in their defeat.
Barbecue!
The first barbecue of the holiday was a feast of chicken and kebabs. The chicken was marinated in a delectable sauce and then grilled over the coals. The ladies cooked potatoes and made a salad while the men did the hot stuff. Cava was drunk in great quantities, and Mum and Dad danced on the terrace to Dire Straits. Baby Sophie, as usual, slept through the whole evening, protected by her mosquito net, and missed all the fun.
The villa looked particularly beautiful at night, with small lamps twinkling along the paths and on the buildings. Underwater lights in the pool turned the water a translucent blue and the cicadas almost drowned out the music on the CD player with their buzzing. We declared the villa the best restaurant on the island!
A change in the weather...
Sadly, the first Sunday of the holiday dawned cloudy and chilly, and Mum and Dad ventured into the old town of Pollenca with Sophie to go to the weekly market. Keith and I walked to the nearby supermarket which was crowded with "Hooray Henrys" buying food for their barbecues. On the way back to the villa, we stopped at a nearby restaurant which we christened "The Yellow Canary" (actually Ca'n Pacienci), to look at the menu, which was very interesting, despite being a tad expensive.
Mum and Dad returned from Pollenca with equally good reports of the restaurants there, which we decided to try.
Because the weather had not improved we drove to Cap de Formentor, the most northerly point of the island. It was reached by a tortuous, winding road with steep drops, and definitely wasn't for the fainthearted! It seemed that most of the population of northern Mallorca had the same idea as a long crocodile of cars followed each other along the narrow highway, with a tiny, packed car park at the end. The views weren't as spectacular as they could have been because of the cloudy skies, and the sheer popularity of the area diminished our enjoyment, so we soon left, winding our way back down to the safer roads around Puerto Pollensa.
Exploring the island
The weather was determined to be bad for the next couple of days so we explored the island and drove through Alcudia, the next resort along from PP, and on down to Cala Milor on the east coast. Elsewhere, people opted for long walks to pass the time, the pleasures of the beach and swimming temporarily denied to them.
As we journeyed further south, the weather improved and each degree of warmth was greeted with enthusiasm. The scenery continued to be beautiful with small, sleepy villages dozing in the midday sun. This part of Mallorca still seemed to be safe from the disagreeable ravages of tourism, and we decided to have lunch in Cales de Mallorca where Mum and Dad had stayed five years previously. Although now warm and sunny, it was very windy, and from our restaurant table, we could see the sea whipped up into a frenzy of white foam. We all agreed that Puerto Pollenca (PP) was probably the most scenic of the resorts we had visited, and decided to head back in the hope of some late sunbathing around the pool.
A near miss!
A particularly bad storm affected Keith and me on the Tuesday of the second week when we decided to venture out for a walk (actually, nosing about outside villas and peering into gardens would have been a more apt description of our activities!). We had almost reached the top of the escarpment that overlooked the area when the rain began to fall and thunder boomed. Sheltering under a tree didn't help much, as we were both starting to feel cold and we were wet already. I hoped that the much-searched-for villa of Michael Douglas was nearby so that he come along and offer us a respite from the storm, but it was not to be. Nobody came to the rescue of the two bedraggled figures, so we decided to make a run for it in the torrential rain, and I nearly met my maker when a bolt of lightning hit a fence just behind me... Keith didn't tell me this until we reached the safety of the villa and it certainly added excitement to our walk! From now on, I think I'll stick to watching them from inside!
The five of us explored Pollenca later in the day when the rain had cleared, and we were pleasantly surprised by what we found. Pollenca is an old Roman town, with a maze of winding streets and tall buildings with shuttered windows, leading onto a beautiful square overlooked by an imposing monastery on a hill. A huge church stands at one end of the square with leafy trees providing much-needed shade. It seems to be a meeting place for the town's inhabitants. A couple of bars provide the perfect opportunity to sip a cold beer and watch the local life.
The surrounding streets had a couple of nice restaurants, one of which, Ca'n Costa, was our venue of choice for the evening's meal. Mum and I went inside to book a table but there wasn't a soul about. The interior was beautiful with large paintings hanging on the walls, and several deep sofas to relax on while having a pre-dinner drink or end-of-meal coffee.
The restaurant reminded me of a French auberge, and indeed the owners turned out to be from France. We only hoped they were as keen on babies as the Spanish were!
Later that evening, before drinks in the square in Pollenca, we booked our table and Sophie was more than welcome. The evening was delightful, the skies had cleared, and the late sun cast a soft glow on the surrounding buildings. Tourists mingled with locals enjoying the weather and there was a wonderful atmosphere... or was it the Campari?
Dinner was all we had hoped it would be, and Sophie slept through the whole evening, not uttering a sound. The food was delicious and included warm goat's cheese salad, terrine of duck, a whole baby chicken, rack of lamb and yet more duck, a speciality of the area, it seemed. The service was friendly and everyone cooed over our sleeping Sophie. The restaurant was obviously popular and although we heard a few "Hooray Henry" voices, they didn't spoil our enjoyment of the evening. We took our coffees and liqueurs on the squashy sofas, and I wished we could stay in Mallorca forever.
Walking back through the deserted town at the end of the evening was like passing through a different town. The narrow, winding streets were dark and full of shadows, and no light shone through the shuttered windows. I was glad we were in Mallorca and not a town in England...
The "Yellow Canary"
The next evening we tried the "Yellow Canary" which was run by a friendly Englishman. We booked a table and made sure it was acceptable to bring a baby. The restaurant was the prettiest we'd been to; a whitewashed building covered in a gorgeous mauve flower with tables and chairs outside on the verandah, as well as inside. We were seated outside and Sophie slept through the whole evening again and was much admired by everyone. Of course, that goes without saying!
Our meal was delicious and this time we enjoyed assorted hors d'oeuvres, scampi, fillet of beef and the speciality of the house, duck. The food was excellent and the service was friendly and efficient. Mum and I became a bit tipsy and she insisted on taking me to the loo with her even though I didn't want to go! There was only one toilet, so I had to stand outside like a spare pork chop at a Jewish wedding with everyone wondering what I was doing. Also, because I was tipsy, I had a silly grin on my face...
Our meal at the restaurant was finished off with desserts, cheese and coffee, and everyone agreed it was expensive but worth the money. Back at the villa, Keith and I rounded off our evening with a nude dip in the pool. We turned all the lights off, except for those in the pool and enjoyed our swim with hundreds of insects attracted to the lights. It was very beautiful and I wished I could have taken a photograph of the luminescent blue water, the dark, inky sky overhead sparkling with stars, and the occasional lights of an arriving plane. The swim certainly made us feel cooler in the hot evening air and we slept better that night.
England v Germany
The weather improved again on the second Thursday so we made up for lost time by doing some serious sunbathing. The evening before we had eaten in Cala San Vicente again as England was playing Germany in the semi-final of the Euros. We ate at a pizzeria which was disappointing and the men went off to watch the football while Mum and I took Sophie for a walk.
We walked around a small headland and into another bay - Cala Molins - which was very pretty. There was a large hotel there and several villas nestling into the hills opposite. It seemed as if it was mostly women walking about, as obviously, all the men were watching the football! The evening was clear and sunny and the views over to the rocky headland were gorgeous. From this small bay, it's possible to walk to Puerto Pollenca and it looked an interesting trail to follow, but we turned back and returned to the bar to watch the football match.
When we arrived back at the bar the score was 1-1 and the tension was mounting. I'm glad to say that the atmosphere was lighthearted with both German and English supporters sitting side by side. The game went to extra time, followed by a penalty shoot-out with Germany eventually winning.
Unfortunately, for some reason, I never finished this diary of our first holiday to Mallorca with Sophie. I do know that it was a lovely holiday and we have many photos and videos to look back on. This was the start of our love affair with the island, which continues to this day!
