After breakfast we walked over to the nearby cove. It was still too early for the crowds and the turquoise water was calm and inviting. My husband walked to the edge and tentatively tested the water with his toes. His eyes bulged out of his head as he hopped back onto the sand and shouted, "COLD! IT'S SO COLD!!" Wanting to see for myself, I knelt down and ran my fingers through the water and he was right. It was frigid. We stood at the cove's edge for a few moments, contemplating our need for adventure and, conversely, the probability of hypothermia. Eventually I backed away in defeat. My brave husband psyched himself up and dipped into the water, his screams echoing off the rocks as he ran back to shore.
"There," he gasped. "I did it."
We gathered our things and went back to our hotel's pool. It was also chilly but nowhere near as cold as the cove. We swam for hours and lazed around the pool reading books and gazing at the sea.
Soon hunger set in and we began the trek to nearby Paguera. The walk is a little more than a mile. As we wound our way up to the village, the sea was on our right and beautiful villas nestled into the cliffs were on our left. We came to La Gran Tortuga before we reached Paguera. We followed some steps down to the restaurant and the magnificent views from the terrace convinced us to stay and eat some tapas.
We took our seats and waited for service. Then we waited longer. Eventually a gruff-looking man emerged from the main building. He trudged over to our table and said, "Guten tag." We sheepishly replied, "Hello... sorry, we speak English." He paused for a beat, taking us in, and then said, "Hola. What you want to drink?"
The most logical beverage choice for a late lunch in Spain is sangria, of course. We gave our order and he ambled back to the kitchen. While he was gone we made our tapas selections: bacon-wrapped dates, grilled peppers, and grilled mushrooms. The waiter eventually returned with our pitcher of sangria and after he set our glasses on the table, he began walking back to the kitchen.
"Ummm, por favor?" we said. "We would like to make an order of food, please?"
He dropped his tray, sighed heavily, and said, "Yes? What would you like?"
Thinking he would be impressed by our selections, we energetically ordered the tapas and smiled broadly as we returned the menus. He walked away, glancing back once with his steely eyes.
The cool sea breeze was a nice complement to the bright sun beating down on us as we sipped sangria. Lots of yachts were anchored in the bay and we saw people jumping into the water from diving boards. We wondered what their lives are like and, more importantly, how possible it would be to casually run into them in Paguera and be invited onto their yachts. Ah, dreams.
Our waiter, who we now believed to be either in the middle of watching a good soap opera inside, or a member of the Mallorcan mafia, brought our food and plunked it down in front of us. "This looks amazing!" we exclaimed. His face and body gave no reaction as he sauntered back to the kitchen.
The food was delicious but I'm not sure if it's ever a wise idea to eat 12 bacon-wrapped dates in one sitting. We waited a long time for our elusive garcon to reappear. We asked for the check and waited another 10 minutes. Finally he returned with our bill. We left a generous tip, hoping this might placate him. If he noticed, he didn't show it. As we left La Gran Tortuga, we wondered if the real staff were locked somewhere inside the property, horrified to know that their brusque kidnapper was the one representing their fine establishment. More likely, he was just put off by the fact that we weren't German. I can imagine him thinking to himself, "What do these people expect? I learn German for all the tourists and now here come these Americans who want me to speak English. Ay dios mio!"
|Walking to Paguera|
Paguera was only a few minutes' walk from La Gran Tortuga. It was bustling with German tourists and lots of restaurants featuring curry wurst and Bitburger. The main street was typical of any seaside resort: souvenir shops, ice cream stands, and tiki bars. We were overwhelmed by the commercialism and thankful that our little hotel was off the beaten path.
Back at the Hotel Petit Cala Fornells, we swam a little more and then enjoyed fabulous Mallorcan wine with our dinner of fresh salmon.
It was an amazing end to our second evening and we looked forward to more of the same for Sunday, our last full day in Mallorca.