Dear Barbara,
After a long winter, I’m back in the Mediterranean Sea. Under the tall palm trees, Palma de Mallorca is breathing calmly. It’s still low season here, and the masses of tourists haven’t arrived yet. The spring has started in Palma, the weather is mild, and just a few clouds flow in the sky.
From my room, I can see the famous Cathedral of Palma. It emerges from the sea like a mirage. The sun washes off its color. It has the color of the sand and the smell of the sea. Everything is quiet in Palma. People walk by the sea, and I follow them, mesmerized by the eternal blue.
And then, I enter the Old Town of Palma. It lies behind the Cathedral, and it consists of several narrow streets that create a cinematic maze. This labyrinth receives amazing light every late afternoon. It seems that the light is refracted several times before touching each wall. All those walls are colorful, and their surfaces are pleasing to my eyes: tall walls, a few windows, clear surfaces, and majestic light. What’s more to ask?
At the port of Palma de Mallorca
Down at the port, a bunch of noisy youngsters is executing tricks with skateboards. A woman walks through them, and she seems to be in a rush. She walks past the monument of Ramon Llull, and then she continues towards some stairs. A sign on the wall reads 49 S. The woman climbs the stairs and then disappears into thin air.
I suspect that the port’s view from the top will be wonderful; therefore, I also climb the stairs. It turns out that this is a bar (49 S stands for 49 steps), and I stay there for a while. I see clusters of masts and yachts almost till the horizon. Behind them, some mountains appear blurry due to the afternoon haze.
There’s a waterfront promenade from one side of the port to the other that I’d love to walk, but I decide to save it for another day. The truth is that I’m dead tired: there was a public transport strike in Berlin, it took me almost two hours to reach the airport, and my flight was delayed for one and a half hours. But I’m again in the Mediterranean, for the first time in Palma, and everything looks wonderful today.
From the top, I can admire Palma’s Cathedral in all its glory, and then I turn my head towards the old city. Finally, I stare at the sea. I promised you occasional stops by the sea, so here I am, breathing next to a lively city, exhausted but joyful.
Under the yellow lights of Palma de Mallorca
I don’t like the white street lights. I prefer the yellow ones; their warmth reminds me of little suns of the night.
Palma has yellow street lights. They turn on shortly before sunset. The evenings are usually cloudy here; it’s as if the sea sends one last wave towards the sky, and the humidity remains in the atmosphere. But it’s a joy to watch Palma de Mallorca by night. Shortly before the night falls, I return to my room. I open the balcony door, and I let the noise in. The chair is always in front of the balcony door. Then, a lazy movie unfolds from the street.
I see the yellow lights of the Passeig del Born, reaching my small balcony. The bikers are running towards the sea in pairs. The Plaça de la Reina is created by a circular fountain that spills water until ten o’clock. Behind the water, the Cathedral. I can only see a part of it; it’s illuminated and impressive.
But the nights in Palma are not for religion. There is a litany around the small tables, it’s all about tapas and wine. I see the small tapas bar in front of the room, and the voices rise like Roman candles. The first night I’m way too tired to search for a place among them. But the night I return from Sóller, I get a seat at the tapas bar. I don’t remember what I order. All I recall is staring at yellow lights and drinking red Rioja.
I am in the Mediterranean, and I somehow miss the Mediterranean.
The atmosphere of Santa Catalina
In Santa Catalina, the city loses in height but gains in vibrancy.
The houses are significantly smaller, they have two or three floors, and they are colorful. It seems to be the bohemian neighborhood of Palma de Mallorca: it’s easy-going, there are dogs and bikes everywhere, and people spend time in the cafes. I then walk through the Santa Catalina Market, and I see kids playing all around. There is a smell of food in the air, and the area is developing without losing its face.
Later on, at the cafe El Perrito, a guy asks me if the second chair on my table is free. I nod affirmatively. He then leaves his car keys on the table and goes inside. He never returns. I stare at his keys, and I wonder where he is. I’m actually about to leave, but I somehow feel some sort of responsibility. Nodding to strangers often creates a bond. I have no clue if I should just leave or if I should wait till he returns.
I wait for a quarter of an hour, and then I go inside to pay. The guy is there, chatting with some other guy. He is probably a super social man that fate sent him on a lonely vacation to Mallorca. Straight after paying, I nod for the second time: then, I point my finger to the table to remind him of the keys. He raises his palm as if everything is under control. I guess it’s the atmosphere of Santa Catalina that supports such attitudes — laid back people in laid back neighborhoods.
Meanwhile, there is a lady already sitting on my chair. She has a dog dressed in some red cloth. At the same time, a couple decides to stop in front of the lady and kiss. Beside them, a middle-aged couple of Germans tries to decide which quiche they will order. There are so many voices in Santa Catalina. You can only love that chatterbox of a neighborhood.
Palma de Mallorca is a city to walk
Palma doesn’t have cobblestone streets. This means that you can walk without getting insanely tired. It’s the sea breeze that every afternoon relaxes the eyelids and makes you feel a tad sleepy. I end up walking more than 10-12 kilometers per day, but I don’t feel as tired as I felt in Prague. Here everything is refreshing.
One day, I walk all along the coast of Palma. This is a long promenade: the Paseo Maritimo (in Catalan: Passeig Maritim), which runs along the seafront. There is no chance to count the number of masts you’ll see on your way. But that’s not the reason one visits this place. I end up at Paseo Maritimo out of pure curiosity: I want to see the wonderful architecture and observe the night clubs of Palma.
Beneath the palm trees, the nightlife; above them, the architecture. While walking along the Paseo Maritimo, my eyes go up and down like an elevator. There are dozens of clubs (the famous Tito’s Mallorca International Club among them), but I’m more impressed by the buildings. Tall apartment blocks attaching their roofs like stickers on the blue sky. And all that with a sea view.
Relaxing at the Arab Baths of Palma
Every day around 4 or 5 pm, I try to slow down a bit. Sometimes I go to Santa Catalina for a Rioja; if not, I usually search for a tourist cafe: I’m always curious to hear what the tourists have to say about a city. But I save one afternoon for the Arab Baths of Palma.
The Arab Baths of Palma are situated in the medieval quarter of the city. It’s actually the last Moorish-built building left in Palma. There are three rooms to see in the building, and the most impressive is definitely the one with the columns. It has 12 of them, and the roof has several holes to let the steam from the bath out. The steam bath is not, of course, in use.
After wandering around the chambers for a while, I visit the garden. This is one of the quietest places I’ve seen in Palma. There are chairs here and there, and the garden is crisp. It’s as if the relaxing times from the Arab bathhouse evaporated and reformed to this wonderful garden. I spend about an hour there, and all I do after leaving my bag on the ground is to stare at a red flower. I have no idea what its name is, but I find it beautiful.
Llotja de Palma: one afternoon, one photo
Already from my first walk in Palma, I was impressed by the Llotja de Palma (Catalan: Lonja de Mallorca).
Although it resembles a church, it’s actually not. It has changed usage several times throughout history, and today the Lonja is a cultural center. It is a beautiful Gothic building of the 1450s and has a rectangular shape. The building is divided into twelve sections, separated by six columns. The columns open on top -or better: blossom– and they take palm trees’ shape.
What fascinates me the most, though, is the huge windows, so I promise myself to return one afternoon and take some photos. As you know, most of the time I like to include people in my photos. Therefore, I thought that if I stay for a while there, I’d have the chance to photograph some of the visitors in the interior, even as silhouettes.
The Llotja is open till 6 pm. At 5 I’m already there: I enter, and I take some photos. And then I wait for somebody to come inside. I wait. And I keep on waiting. Until ten to six, not a single person enters the Llotja. A few visitors stay at the entrance while others take the first step inside, then walk away.
Then, two people appear, a man and a woman. They don’t seem to know each other. They wander separately. I wait with the camera in hand. For a while, nothing happens. But when the guard appears to start shutting the doors, all of a sudden, the visitors start to walk faster. A couple of minutes later, I have at least one photo, and the one hour spent in the Llotja de Palma is probably successful.
Chopin, once again…
Not that long ago, I was exploring Chopin’s whereabouts in Warsaw. It seems that either pure coincidence or a metaphysical “conspiracy” sent me next to his place in Palma de Mallorca.
You see, I have no explanation of how I ended up renting a room next door to where Chopin lived in Palma. In the autumn of 1838, Chopin moved here together with the novelist George Sand (nom de plume of Amadine Dupin). The couple traveled together with Sand’s children on board the El Mallorquin boat. Their first place in Mallorca was at the Calle Mar, where the old artillery barracks are. This is exactly the next building from where I’m staying, and there is a plaque commemorating the couple’s sojourn.
Afterward, they stayed at Son Vent, and finally, they moved to Charterhouse of Valldemossa. But Chopin’s health deteriorated in Mallorca, and the couple had to leave. Their love affair was not that happy anymore, too. Plus, they had issues with the locals because they didn’t attend church services, and rumor had it that George Sand was smoking cigarettes and wore trousers. Unacceptable…
…and Fellini in Palma
The last morning in Palma, I take a long walk in the Old Town’s northern part. I enter some of the wonderful Mallorcan patios, and I cross the imposing Can Corbella building before I stop at the Plaza Mayor for a quick espresso.
I’m walking around Mercat, and then I find my way to La Rambla. It is not as impressive as Barcelona’s, of course, but it’s colorful and full of flowers. I keep on walking, and when I reach the Passeig del Born again, I hear some distant music. It doesn’t come from a house, nor a cafe. It’s live music, and I can listen to the crowd cheering.
It’s a beautiful sunny day, and when I arrive at the Plaça de la Reina, I see a stage. Musicians are playing, and there are dancers dressed in folk clothes. This is apparently a small traditional dancing festival with people all over the world — hats and costumes and legs in the air. The dancers are cheerful, and so are the spectators. Sun, scattered clouds and notes in the air. Noises, voices, and a cluster of palms.
I’m sad that I have to leave Mallorca. Even when I head towards the bus stop of No 1 that goes to the airport, I listen to that music. There, in the middle of Palma, someone has to leave the Felliniesque celebration. I try to ease my sadness: next week, I will be again somewhere in the Mediterranean.
See you soon,
George
More about Palma de Mallorca: Tren de Sóller, Things to do in Palma & Extra photos
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Last Updated on November 10, 2020 by George Pavlopoulos