Hola! Where do I begin? The flight was FULL and left on time. Jess and Kirstin managed to get seats next to each other but Malcolm and I were scatterlings of Ryanair - he upfront and me near the tail. I got a middle seat, between two guys from USA on their way to Palma to celebrate a 40th birthday party. We had a great flight, J the 6'1" guy was really nervous of flying which was highly amusing because he is a pilot - well in training and only in little planes! By the end of the flight I had been invited to join the 40th birthday party celebrations - with 91 guests I guess another bod is no big deal!
We landed 30 minutes early - half an hour extra holiday I cheered, little did we know the inefficiency that is Palma airport meant that the 30 minutes were spent waiting for stairs for the plane! Ah well. No amend that too...another 3o minutes wasted waiting for our luggage - I think Palma owe me an hour.
Next was the car hire and that really peed me off. We had to go to a central meeting point and find a person in a yellow shirt. It felt a little like the Amazing Race- which incidentally I have discovered I would SUCK at. Then we had to go outside and look out for a mini bus that said Centurio (or something close to that) on its side and we would be whisked off to the car hire place 5 minutes from the airport. Sadly we are not as pushy as most of the other families utilizing the car hire service so we miss out on 2 busses (they only hold 6 people – you do the math when faced with mostly FAMILIES) and by the time we get to the car hire place it is 18h45 – and we landed at 17h00!!!
Next is the drive to Pollensa – uneventful besides driving on the WRONG side of the road!
We missed the grocery store by a minute – as I ran in they turned the lights out….right now I hate my Mallorca holiday!
Finding our apartment is slightly challenging – the garmin is not doing her job, but only because it does not recognize the street name we input. The restaurants are overflowing with happy patrons as we drive around aimlessly and my stomach is beginning to remind me that I have not eaten since 13h00. This annoys me because by the time we find our apartment the places will all be closed – it is now close to 22h00…an open Spar! Wahoo – milk, wine, bread, ham, cheese and coffee – sorted!
Stroke of luck! Malcolm asks a woman if she knows where our street is and it turns out we are only a block away, this is superb news and if I had a tail it would be wagging furiously. Once we locate the apartment complex the next trick is finding our door “E” with a key tacked to it. The hunt is over after about 5 minutes with Kirstin triumphantly holding the coveted key. We had also spotted a really great restaurant around the corner that was still open, so after dumping our luggage and Dublin clothes (jeans) we legged it down to dinner.
The restaurant was great, across the road from the sea (of course we soon realized that these are a dime a dozen) and we sat and ate al fresco. I decided to have fish, Dorado was part of the 3 course menu on offer and Malcolm said it was a fabulous game fish. I think a Dorado is a different fish altogether in Mallorca because there was no way the little guy winking up at me from my plate was a game fish – and yes eyeballing me because it was WHOLE!!! Game fish meant a nice fillet or a steak in my mind, not a teeth to tail on my plate affair so I ate it with caution and yes to be honest…long teeth, but I did eat it. Of course I also did leave a fair bit on my plate so there was no way I was missing out on my third course and when they mentioned crème caramel that definitely sealed my calorie counting fate. It was also a spring board to many more dinners ending in something sweet - a habit I do not often indulge in, the constricta style jeans I am wearing today have reminded me of my bad holiday eating habits - ah well.
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