MALLORCA, Spain - Considered the “island of calm” by famous
Spanish poet Rubin Dario, Mallorca (or Majorca) offers turquoise beaches,
luxurious resorts, delicious local cuisine, and a thriving athletic culture
centered around biking and aquatic sports.
For 220 U.S. Dollars, Juston and I were able to fly to the
island oasis last weekend just off the eastern coast of Spain. With a
population around 860,000, Mallorca is the largest of the Balearic Islands in
the Mediterranean. As we made our descent Friday evening, we both stared out
the plane window and were dazzled by the sublime landscape, counting no fewer
than five shades of greens and blues.
Upon arriving in Mallorca, a stalky Spaniard woman escorted
Juston and I, along with three others, to the ‘shuttle’ parked between two palm
trees outside. A week prior, I had arranged a shuttle bus to pick us up from
the airport and take us to our hotel across the island. Instead of dingy and
oversized tourist bus like I had expected, we were to be transported in what
looked to be a brand new Mercedes passenger van. Juston and I looked at another
as we climbed into the luxury vehicle and in unison whispered, “paradise”. The faces
of the other three passengers seemed to also agree.
After an hour and forty-five minutes of awe-inspiring
scenery across the island, I begin to wonder where it was we were going. I had
researched the distance of the hotel from the airport and it said it was only
60 miles, about an hour trip. It was beginning to feel like we were driving back
to Germany, BFE, somewhere far and away from the ocean. Until, alas, I felt the
vehicle come to a stop. “Bienvenidos a Playa Mondrago,” our driver announced. It suddenly all made sense when we exited the
van and had our first look around the secluded resort.
Hotel Playa Mondrago, as promised, was set in a lush,
National Park, filled with exotic varieties of birds and flowers. Within steps
of the hotel was the white sandy beach of Mondrago, with a restaurant and bar
nestled amongst the foliage nearby.
We were able to stay at the hotel for $90 a night, with
breakfast and impeccable views included. A steal if you ask me. So, that night
after dropping our stuff off in our rooms, we sat in the hotel restaurant
sampling the cerveza and homemade paella, wondering what we had done to deserve
being in a place like paradise.
NEXT MORNING
6:30 AM - We were up with the roosters. Literally, it was us
two and the roosters of a nearby farm awake at 6:30 am on a Saturday morning.
We had a date to see the Mallorca sunrise, a date we did not want to be late
for. We threw on clothes, grabbed the camera, and slowly shut the hotel door
behind so as not to wake the other guest still deep in their vacation slumber.
We lightly jogged across our beach cove, then another, up to a park trail that
led to rock cliffs jetting out into the ocean and facing east. This was to be
our viewing spot. Before the sun made it’s debut on the horizon, J and I sat on
the rocks for a while, admiring the view and enjoying the tranquility. It was pure
bliss. Hues of purple, orange, and pink filled the morning sky. It was like a painted picture with the sparkling
water, seagulls gliding through the air and waves crashing up on the rocks. I
thanked the Lord for being able to be in that moment at least ten times.
Sunrises are one of the most magical things to me. It’s one of God’s glorious gifts YOU MUST
experience at some point in your life, in its entirety.
8 AM – Breakfast time with delicious coffee. On our usual
travel trips, breakfast is the time that we convene and discuss our plans for
the day, mapping out routes, scheduling attraction stops, yada, yada. As we slowly sipped our coffee and looked out
the window overlooking the beach, we quickly realized that for the remainder of
the weekend we had nowhere to be other than where we were. Fighting off the
tourist-mode urge to pop up and do something else, we leaned back in our chairs
and set our watches to Mallorca time.
10 AM – Because our Eurotrip has taken place during the
winter months, Juston and I have been cold and without sun for far too long. It
was 70 degrees and sunny in Mallorca that weekend and we were looking to bask
in it. Notice I said bask, not broil. In order to prepare for the long day of
basking, we walked to the nearest town of Porto Pedro to pick up a few beach
essentials. Flip flops, beer, sangria, and snacks. Those all made it into the
basket, along with some fresh oranges picked from the trees of the storeowner’s
garden. (Yes, we paid for them.) Were we missing anything? Any necessity or protectant that might be
helpful when you skin hasn’t seen sunlight in months? Na, we couldn’t think of
anything. Back to the beach!
Porto Pedro was a small, picturesque port town with cobbled
streets, white adobe houses with rooftop terrace gardens, and beautiful shiny
boats parked in the dock. There were only a few people milling around that
morning – dog walkers, store owners washing their windows, men putting fresh
coats of paint on their boat, and coffee sippers enjoying their early morning
smokes and tapas at the sidewalk cafés. It was a quiet and peaceful little
place. We enjoyed making the stroll and meandering about the little town. By 11
AM, we were back at Playa Mondrago where for 20 bucks we sank our butts into
two sun-loungers for the remainder of the day.
Ah, this is the life, I
thought. A vacation within a vacation.
3 PM - Thus far on our Eurotrip, Juston and I have confined
our imbibing of adult beverages to evening relaxation, not wild nights out on
the town. Neither of us has been interested in turning our backpacking trips
into indistinct nights and hung-over days. (Exception – St. Patrick’s Day in
Dublin…. C’mon, do you blame us? Guinness beckoned!) On this trip, it was the
sangria of Spain that was calling our names. Lots of it. Picture the scene: the sun is hot and high
with the blue sky virtually cloudless, the water in front of us is a cerulean
blue, Juston and I on sun-loungers with full cups of sangria, surrounded by
tropical palms, vibrant blossoms, and the sound of a Spanish guitar being
played in the background. We were smiling so much our faces felt like they
could hardly contain it.
4 PM – We slipped out of the sun and returned to our room to
get ready for dinner in a couple of hours. This was when we were able to survey
the damage our little ‘basking’ adventure resulted in. We looked like two
steamed lobsters. SUNSCREEN! That’s the little gem that didn’t make it into our
grocery basket this morning. Yikes, we’ll be paying for that lapse in memory
for a week after the trip, I thought. And we are. Sorry, Mom! You even reminded
me before we left for this trip to pack sunscreen. I got distracted L
Feeling the heat radiating off our skin and the effects of
the sangria, Juston and I decided to take a little nap. A little nap that
turned into a 12-hour slumber. We didn’t wake up until the next morning when
our alarm went off to remind us of our 6 AM second sunrise date.
DAY TWO – SUNDAY
Ouch. Have I mentioned the sun charred us? Oh, I have. I’ll
move on. Following our healthy dose of sleep, we wiped our eyes (carefully around
the burned skin) and made our way out into the darkness again to see our
beloved sunrise. We took the same path, down the same trail, to the same
cluster of rocks, and set on the edge of the same cliff to watch Mallorca sunrise
for the second time. Only this time, it seemed far more bright and beautiful
than the day before. Both mornings are ones we’ll remember for quite some time.
As we walked back to our hotel for breakfast, Juston and I both made a comment
on how sorry we felt the buffet we were about to encounter. Other than the
liquid sangria and cerveza calories, a few pretzel sticks, and a shared
homegrown orange, the last meal we had was breakfast Saturday morning. It was
about to go down! Two of every thing and tons of coffee!
Due to our recent acquirement, we decided to forgo
sunbathing on Sunday. Instead, we explored trails in the National Park, climbed
rocks to other beach coves, and laid in the shade overlooking the ocean while scribbling
life goals and thankful notes in our journals. Before leaving paradise, we enjoyed one last
lunch on the beach. We both ordered a hearty salad, chips, avocado, and yes,
more sangria.
It was a great day, a great weekend. We were truly,
completely, uncompromisingly happy. We were high on life. Mallorca is one sexy
beast. Seriously, the side of the island we were able to stay on (Cala
Mondrago) is so breathtaking you could suffocate. Throughout the weekend and
throughout our Eurotrip as a whole, Juston and I often think about how blessed
we are to get to do such things. Little things, on the face it, but it’s the
little things and those once-in-a-lifetime experiences that make a life. We recognize
what a privilege it is to be able to do such things, and do them together. We
will forever be grateful to have done it, and thankful to our Heavenly Father
whose hand arranged it.
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