Magic in Valldemossa

The sun cast its languid late day rays, and this enchanting mountain town shone golden teetering atop terraces of ancient olive trees. Made all the more marvelous by a glass of sangria (or two.)

Forging up a narrow and unforgiving road we passed goat after goat and at last reached the historical village of Valldemossa.

Translated as the 'Vale of Muses' the city is rightfully named as its beauty could inspire anyone to write poems, and songs, and paint in its wonder.

In fact when the composer Frederic Chopin spent the winter of 1838 in Valldemossa, he composed his "Raindrop Prelude." Rightfully so, a symphony is the only way to pay tribute to the town's majesty.

The cobbled streets ascended up and up, I'm sure they lead right up to heaven's doorstep. Each shuttered building dripped in honey- sweet, golden and gleaming in a stillness that has survived centuries. Since its founding in 123 BC to be exact.

Fresh fruit stands tempted us with the best of the late summer harvest.

Entryways were adorned with succulents, bougainvillia and vibrant tiles.

The town challenges you to look up every which way, so as not to miss any small wonder whether it be a creeping lime tree, or sleeping tabby cat.

When we had wandered nearly every street, overdosed on charm, and had tired legs to prove it we chose a quaint cafe to rest our legs and get to the point- a pitcher of sangria to be shared and laughed over.

And of course the rejuvenating fruity beverage is nothing without some patatas bravas, warm crispy fried potatoes drizzled with a spicy sauce, on the side. A match made in heaven.

As we wound our way back through the quiet streets, along came a vintage burgundy car. As if things couldn't get more picturesque in the back sat a 'just married' couple, her shining in white, him bursting with pride. Together they waved gleefully.

As consolation for leaving Valldemossa we stopped for an Horchata de Allemande on the way out. A traditional frozen almond milk beverage, whipped with cinnamon and sugar, our tastebuds thanked us for the splurge.

The sun slipped behind the the Serra de Tramuntana and as the bell tolled from the monastery the bus to Palma drove us away from this fairytale town.

For now, Ciao.