A Trek Through the Clouds
- Sep 29, 2021
- 2 min read
The rugged North Coast beckoned once again for its world class hiking, stunning cliffside vistas ..and of course miles and miles of bleating goats.
Week 2 on the island commenced with a traditional Spanish Pastry, as is the only proper way to celebrate finding a place to live here. The warm, flaky, powder-sugared Endsaimada is as delicious as it sounds and can be found at a pasteleria on nearly every block in Palma.
We chose to dine at a locally recommended spot, Joan de S'Aigo a few blocks off from the main drag, Paseo del Born, in Palma. Red velvet, golden chandeliers, and soft Spanish music played as we dug in.
Joan de S’Aigo has been serving pastries since 1700.
Old Spain came alive as we tried the Pan de Patate, a traditional bread made with potato flour that was decadent when dipped in the Chocolate Caliente.
After a day of eating our way through Palma we decided to spend our Saturday at the beach. To no one’s surprise.
On the bus to Cala (the Mallorquin word for small beach) de Portals Nous to the left of the city. The water sparkled as the sun sat high in the sky, along with our spirits as I cut open a fresh mango and read the day away.
Our languid Saturday proved a stark contrast to the 6 am wake up the next morning as we prepared to summit the 3rd highest peak in Mallorca, Puig Tormir, with our new Austrian and Spanish friends.
Poco a poco (little by little) was the theme of the day as we traversed sliding rocks, and steep inclines, often relying on our hands for balance. There was absolutely nothing graceful about it.
The clouds gathered round us and the landscape shifted from dense brush and grasses to daunting vertical rock as sheep bells tolled in the foothills.
Near the summit a large rectangular cave was carved into the mountainside. Known as a Casa de Neu, or Mallorcan snow house, the deep pits were used to hold snow from the winter through summer months and were vital before the establishment of ice factories.
Legs shaking we at last made it up to the summit with a view that was nothing short of heavenly.
The trek down proved to be the most treacherous part as the rocks shifted beneath our every step.
Back in the car to Palma, the triumphant Sunday was capped off with a trip for tapas. Patatas bravas have never tasted so good.
To be in an area where every plate you eat, every hike you take, and every beach you stroll has a history far behind the present is something truly exquisite.
Til next time, nos vemos.
Comments