Looking For El Sol   Leave a comment

So, we’re on our way to Spain to look for the sun that’s been somewhat shy in the UK. We’re currently flying somewhere over France and from what I saw earlier of the route we’re supposed to be taking, I can’t figure out the mountain range below us. The Captain enters the cabin to make a pit-stop and I say to Shay “OMG, who’s flying this thing?”. Seriously, it was a joke. I am the least nervous flyer you will ever meet. I LOVE everything about it, from start to finish and everything in between, but I couldn’t resist. I asked the flight attendant if she knew what the mountain range was…she didn’t but said she would ask the pilot. Turns out he didn’t know either. “What the $%^&?”. If he doesn’t know the terrain below us, how the heck does he know where we are?

After a few minutes, the flight attendant returned and said the pilot would find out and announce it over the PA but, since there WAS no announcement, I can only assume he was too embarrassed to call the Tower and ask where he was so he could tell his passengers!! I’m a little bit of a geography nut but I do it for fun so I don’t have to know where I am (well, not all the time anyway) so I figured if I rattled my brain enough, it would come to me and VOILA!, it did. The Pyrenees! So proud of myself, I marched into the cockpit, grabbed the mike and made the announcement (so tempted, but of course, I didn’t). Stepping off the plane in Mallorca, we were greeted by the island heat that we’ve been looking for since we arrived in the UK. Being almost 11 when we arrive at our resort, we turn in for the night after requesting a 7:30 wake up call because just outside our window, the ocean beckons…

After a quick trip to the Supermercado just steps away and a rushed breakfast of warm baguettes, tomatoes and eggs, we march right past the pool and head for the beach. Our bags are packed with iPods, Blink, by Malcolm Gladwell, Hello magazine (the Brit version, of course), sunscreen, huge litres of water and two of the largest, most succulent peaches you have ever seen and when we bite into them later, they do not disappoint. I truly think I could eat six in a row!

Each day by 9am we have our fave spot in the cove. Usually about the 3rd or 4th to arrive, we are two of the ghostliest-looking beach goers you’ve ever seen. What little colour we might have had from our Canadian summer has been washed down the drain with the English bath water. So, as unlikely of me as it is, I’m here to relax, do less than nothing and ultimately get a tan. In all my life and times at the beach, I’ve never spent so many days laying like a new potato trying to achieve a tan-coloured jacket (jacket potatoes are the English equivalent of a baked potato, not sure why I felt like I had to explain that….but I did).

Cala d’Or is an extremely pretty cove on the south east coast and it’s layered from sea to sky. The turquoise green water interspersed with cobalt, the brownish-grey jutting rocks, the white Spanish-style villas, the green lush trees and bushes all topped off with a perfect overhead canvas of azure dotted with wispy, marshmallow clouds.

A few pint-sized, pale naked tooshies wobble their way past me into the arms of a parent waiting in the surf. While people watching, I’ve only seen a handful of topless sun-seekers and, believe me, what they have doesn’t wobble. I’d like to think that if mine pointed north instead of south (and didn’t point east and west when laying on a towel) that I’d bare all too (but I’m kinda thinking not so much!).

At 11am and 1pm each day, our entertainment arrives, courtesy of Pedro (I’m calling him this purely because I don’t know his name so please don’t read any ‘stereo-type-ness’ into it). Pedro arrives with gusto, there’s simply no other way to put it. Yelling out his wares makes people scramble for change and climb the steps to where he stands. Hand over 4 Euros and choose from an array of coco, piña and sandia. He’ll hammer open a coconut like it’s nobody’s business then hand you the half with the milk so you can savour the sweet nectar. He adeptly works his magic on the other half by holding it (very close to his own cocos, I might add!) and with a few flicks of his extremely sharp knife, the meat becomes easily accessible. Trade halves and he’ll repeat the process throwing in a banana as a bonus. It’s impressive. We Brits would go at a coconut with a hammer and a chisel and when that fails, out comes the jack hammer. Pedro is, quite simply, an artist!

In the days we’ve been here I haven’t had a single urge to jump in one of the pools. I would choose Earth’s natural pool over a man-made one any day. We stand at the water’s edge while the tide creeps forward teasing our toes. It retreats and comes back and we give in by following it as it retreats once again. The crystal clear water is home to very small shoals of skinny fish that swim all around us, or should I say away from us. Most are about 2-3” long, a few a bit longer and we don’t really notice them until the 2nd day here. Occasionally, a diving duck appears beside us out of nowhere and swoops to the seabed to grasp the one that almost got away. Shay goes back to work on her tan and I swim out away from the others, although there aren’t many others this early. I float on my back and let the natural rhythm of the tide gently carry me in. I enjoy the salty sea water on my lips and the complete silence this journey brings.

In the evening, we walk for about 2 hours through the streets of Cala d’Or. I always try to find something away from the usual T-shirt or keychain as a souvenir. A jumbo yellow cup and saucer catch my eye and my search is over. It’s perfect for that Sunday morning tea and the design of peaches on its’ side will always remind me of our delicious beach snacks.

The very first thing I do each morning and the last thing I do each night is stare at the ocean and listen to the waves and I’ve come to realise that I could be happy living absolutely anywhere in the world as long as this was my first and last experience of each day. But for now, I’ll just relish falling asleep with nature’s background music that doesn’t come from a sound machine by the side of my bed.

CLICK HERE to see more of my Cala d’Or photos…

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Posted October 8, 2011 by Jaclyn in Memories, Spain, Travel

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