We're in Port de Pollenca right now, staying in an interesting little spot called Hostal Paris. The owners seem to be expats who are living their dream by running a little establishment in a Spanish sea side resort. Not that I have asked them, but I am enjoying thinking it, and see no need to correct myself with the truth by asking. They are friendly and seem like genuinely nice people. It’s 30 euros a night for our twin bed private room with en suite “bathroom.” This is a pretty good price in comparison to many other places. The breakfast (included in the price of the room) is not bad at all and to a starving soul like me it is manna. There was this morning the most delightful baguette bread, baked fresh and still warm, with real butter (how I hate marge) and some ham (not the disgusting polony like stuff the other place served up), cereal, yoghurt, jams, coffee, orange juice (but from a carton, not the nasty mix-it-up stuff that hotels always try to water down to the greatest extent possible…) and that baguette was the best bread I’ve had since I left SA. The building is somewhat run down. The shower in our "bathroom" is tiny - approx 2 foot square. N cannot stand in it without the shower curtain wrapping itself around him. The toilet marginally overhangs the shower rim. There is JUST enough space to close the door without actually climbing into the shower, if you squish yourself into a pretzel shape. When I look out of the bathroom window I can see water running down the outside wall opposite me. I presume that one of the other bathrooms is not very well water-proofed. All this, however, is pretty much what befits our price bracket.
The hotel is about a minute’s walk away from the beach, which has the warmest water of the trip so far and no waves, resulting in a delightfully relaxing swim. I have been totally enjoying the opportunity to sleep in a real bed, despite the mattress springs that poke me in the back the whole night. And it is blissful to look outside at the blazing heat and be tucked away under cool plaster, with a slight breeze blowing through the room. Last night, however, the room was super heated, because we closed the window. Somewhere about 03:30 I soaked my towel in water and slept with it. We closed the window because of the mozzies. The damned things feast on me. Why me? I swear they have radar that picks me up about 7km away. They drop what they are doing and beat their wings to ribbons in their attempts to get to me ASAP!!!!! And they phone all of their nasty, biting, vicious friends along the way. “Woo Hoo! Feeding frenzy in room 207 guys!” They bite me. They raise welts raise all over me. I itch. I hurt. I can’t sleep through it. However, last night the room was so hot without the sea breeze that I couldn’t sleep anyway. Maybe tonight I will leave the window open and be bitten and sleepless instead of hot and sleepless. N would probably prefer that option and he was very good about last night’s sauna effect – didn’t complain at all.
Tomorrow night we leave our island and fly back to Italy. Aims: Dolomite mountains, via ferratti, more climbing, hot water spring place, caves, day trip to Venice, try not to spend too much money. The last one is looking unlikely. Camping anywhere in the north of Italy is just ridiculous. Exorbitant. We’re unthrilled and will continue to look for more options.
And now for the requisite holiday snaps to make people jealous. (Well, why else does anyone go on holiday?)
Distant view of the beach we swam at one day after climbing. You have to walk down an extremely steep hill to get there. And back up again after swimming.
One of the incredibly dodgy bolts we keep finding at the crags. Salt water corrosion and all that. No, we don't climb on these bolts. We find other routes.
Unphotoshopped sunset view from the watch tower at Formentor.
Yacht anchored off the Formentor coast, also seen at sunset from the top of the watch tower.
Yay, a post at last, yay, nice pics. Yay no more Spain.
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