Mallorca

It's a beautiful afternoon in Sevilla... I'm surprised more people aren't sitting out on their terrazas! From up here, I have almost an aerial view of the park/recreational center across the way, and I see people rock climbing-- qué guay (slang for "cool").

Our spring break-- first of the 2-- in Mallorca (Majorca) was a blast. Las Islas Baleares (the Ballearic Islands) are located to the east of the Iberian peninsula, almost in line with Madrid according to Ana... therefore, it wasn't sweltering hot, sino (but rather) really pleasant for site seeing, eating outdoors, and taking walks.

La diversión comenzó (the fun began) with a 4:30AM wake-up on Wednesday morning... to think, it had nearly slipped our minds that our flight was scheduled at the crack of dawn. Security was a joke, once again... Laura had completely forgotten that she had packed her 8oz bottle of hairspray but no pasa nada! It came with us to Mallorca! We landed in Palma and hailed a cab to our hotel: Blue Bay, located about a 10 minute walk from la playa (the beach). Since our room wasn't going to be ready for a few hours, we decided to store our luggage and go hunting for breakfast... easier said than done. Turns out, Mallorcans (if that's what they're called?) have an even MORE no pasa nada attitude and don't get their day started until about 11, so we had NO luck finding a place that would serves us a scrambled egg. It wasn't worth breaking Passover over the hard croissant one of the "restaurants" was trying to vendernos (sell us). So, we headed back to the hotel... which was QUITE the exercise. Our hotel sits on top of a hill, ALMOST comparable to that of Park Guell. Let's just say that an escalator of some sort, or wings, would have been greatly appreciated up the inclines and 100+ stairs. We took advantage of the cheap buffet-style, passover-friendly breakfast they offered: fruit, cheese, hard-boiled eggs, tomatoes, yogurt, cold cuts, etc.

Soon after, our room on the 3rd floor (8 total) was ready, so we headed upstairs. The room was much nicer than our previous experience in Barcelona. We had our own little balcony with a beautiful view of the hotel's pool and beyond to the beach. Our only complain was that our adapter didn't fit properly into the busted outlet in the bathroom, so we had to use the one directly outside our door to charge our things. Not the end of the world. The rest of the day, we strolled up and down the streets... it was really quiet and pretty void of obnoxious tourists because we are located on the outskirts of Palma, as opposed to the heart (our trip to Tenerife will be quite the opposite!) What was also interesting is that the few tourists we DID encounter spoke a mix of languages, excluding English (French, German, Catalan-- which is actually an official language in Mallorca). We found a cool spot right on the water to lounge for the rest of the afternoon... no arena (sand), mostly rocky, very relaxing. For dinner, we decided to forego walking down and up those ridiculous steps into town and stayed at the hotel. We felt like we were at Cornell, back in the dining hall days, making a million trips up to the food and trying a little of everything. And with our dinner voucher came una copa de vino (a glass of wine). We make it a point to try all 3 (tinto red, blanco white, rosa blush) during the course of our stay. Consadas por el sol (tired from the sun) and traveling, we freshened up and headed back downstairs to hang out by the bar for the night, rather then trying the discoteca scene. It wasn't long before we became the best of friends with Pako el camarero (Pako the bartender). He made us fancy drinks and more at a huge discount, which was really nice and unnecessary but the man insisted. I think we had a special bond because he is originally from Sevilla, so we had a lot to talk about. We also met two guys from a city near Londres (London) who stuck out like sore thumbs because of their English. They definitely made us laugh with their humor:

"Oh, Laura... Yes, well we know a Laura. She's quite different. It's kind of like 'Hickory Dickory Dock, the mice went up the clock'... well, picture the mouse who went the other way."

Quote of the week.

El jueves (Thursday), we got ourselves up and out by 10:30. The guy at the receptionist desk decided to turn friendly and gave us a map, outlining "must see's" and how to get there. He really went to town making fun of our accents... he even told us how to correctly pronounce our names because "El inglés is muy duro" -- English sounds harsh. Can't rag on the guy, though, because he directed us exactly on how to catch the public bus and where to get off in the heart of Palma. Within 20 minutes, we arrived in the city and began our trek toward la Catedral (the Cathedral). It definitely has a prime location, right next to the Almudaina Palace, the royal palace. Thanks to Semana Santa, the Cathedral was closed to visitors, but it was truly impressive even to walk around the perimeter. We had almuerzo (lunch) outside at a cute little restaurant, passed by (and maybe went inside) Zara's and H&M, walked around, and cogimos (caught) the bus back to our hotel. We were definitely starting to sweat, so we bought some sunscreen and headed to the pool deck with our libros (books). There was a nice crowd outside, but we lasted less than an hour before storm clouds intruded on us. At least we can say we tried!

Después de dormir una siesta (after taking a nap), we went downstairs to the dining room for dinner. It was nice that they changed up the selection a bit. After, we went back to visit our friend Pako for some social time-- the poor man works ALL day and seemed exhausted, but catered to us like princesses. To our dismay, these sketchy older men tried to creep on us, clearly borrachos (drunk) and spewing their cigarette ashes all over the place. But Pako, to the rescue, pretty much told them to F-off. Even more, nos invitó (he treated us) to our drinks and apologized on behalf of those men. At that, we gathered our things and took a cab back into the city to explore la marcha (the nightlife) of Palma. We really didn't know better than to follow recommendations and word of mouth to this outrageous discoteca-- many floors, glass elevator, blaring music, flashing lights and bubbles at the entrance, HUGE crowd. The catch: 30 euro cover charge! At that point, Laura and I kind of looked at each other and decided it wasn't worth it for whatever spectacle they were promoting in there. We were solicited by someone promoting a club just across the street... everything seemed right: much lower cost, equally loud music, just as big. The only thing it was missing were people! We gave it until about 2 and decided to call it a night.

The next day's plan was to head to the famous Majorica fábrica de perlas, the Pearl Factory! We followed the receptionist's advice and took a bus into Palma, where we found the main transportation hub and bought train tickets to Manacor. The train ride felt comparable to my summer's commute to and from Yale from Grand Central... not awful, but I've had better. The Pearl Factory was really easy find and we were immediately caught up in the beauty and insane quantity of collares (necklaces), bracelets, rings, earrings, etc. We even saw the pearl tiaras worn by Miss Spain a while back! Upstairs, we took a self-guided tour through the pearl-making process and got to witness the women at work (see pictures). We spent the rest of the afternoon walking around in awe of all the showcases and even did a teeny bit of shopping... Happy Birthday, Mom!! The factory down the street (less renown-- no pamphlets or anything) was also open, so we peeked in for a bit. Since nothing else estaba abierto (was open) as per Good Friday, we caught a 4:30 train back and relaxed back at the hotel until another delicious dinner.

As routine would have it, we found ourselves back at Pako's bar for our pre-evening activity. This time, luckily, there were no sleeze-ball old men... just a group of guys we had seen earlier at dinner. Laura and I spent the next 10 minutes or so trying to eavesdrop on their conversation and identify su lenguaje (their language), failing miserably to discern words from what we would discover was Catalan. Funny thing: they were definitely doing the same thing, because we were noticeably quiet at different intervals, and I think they tried a few times to get our attention with both castellano and francés-- they put "bonjour" out there. It was when the only semi-English speaking one blatantly walked over and said, "Excuse me. Girls," with an inflection you could only appreciate if you've ever heard a native Spaniard speak English. It was very endearing. We learned that the 3 of them, Peter, Juli, and Cristian, live in a city in Cataluña, just outside Barcelona... they all spoke catalan, but only Peter spoke a bit of English. And while they all allegedly spoke castilian, we could not understand a word Cristian said, for the life of us. The running joke, after almost everything Cristian said was to become "Cristian... todavía no te entiendo." We just don't understand you. He definitely had the sense of humor for it, so it was OK. After Pako closed shop, the 5 of us went into town and hung out at a local pub. Their dynamics were REALLY gracioso (funny)... I was stuck for most of the night with relentless hiccups from all the laughing, which was obviously captured on film. Peter was definitely the leader of the pack, dubbing Cristian the "quiet one" and Juli "our high friend." He meant to say his TALL friend, so we instantly corrected him on that one. We also had to teach Peter that "Cállate," though commonly thrown around in Spanish to tease people to "be quiet" does not translate to "Excuse me shut up." He would just pull that out in a normal tone and give a toothy smile, at which point we would BURST out dying. EXCUSEMESHUTUP was how it sounded. Before we parted ways, they let us know that they had rented a car for the remainder of the break and were planning to see the Cuevas del Drach (the Caves of Drach), which are the most famous tourist attraction on the island. And, of course, the Spanish thing was for them to insist that we come, rather than ask if we wanted to-- "So, you come tomorrow and we leave at 10," were Peter's words. Hey, it's not like we had big plans and the Caves were definitely on our receptionist's 'must-see' list.

And we actually followed through with the plans! Sure enough, the three boys were sitting in the lobby waiting: Cristian looking serious, Juli with the map, and Peter with his beaming smile! "Guapas! Girls!" Man oh man. Laura and I definitely had a moment, as we were loading our jackets into the teeny tiny trunk of the teeny tiny car, where we hesitated and thought we might cry... are we really doing this? Then, Cristian slammed the trunk, got into the drivers seat, and Peter stuffed us into the back. The ride to the caves turned out to be a ton of fun (and MUCH more efficient than our train ride to the same city the day before)!!! We stopped for Cupa-Chups (our inside joke), took some unexpected detours, and spoke non-stop Spanish... Retrospectively, I am REALLY impressed with the fact that we were able to spend a WHOLE day talking to people with whom we would not be able to communicate if we hadn't spoken spanish. Even though some of the jokes went over our heads, we understood most of their humor and they didn't mind slowing down for us. It's also funny because the only English we really spoke came out (not purposely) in a Spanish accent, kind of like Peter.

Things that need not be explained in the blog, that Laura and I will NEED to remember so we can laugh about it years from now:

-The difference between joder and jodooo (including hand gestures and tone of voice)

-Navo

-La chaqueta de castigo

-Sabe todo, y más

-Cristian for President

-Cristian's photo comment: amb el nivell 5 m'apanyo!!, tindrem que apuntar-nos apendren més!!jiji

-"eda i de padre caballero yedai"

-Papa Noel

-Peter = Pere = Pear

Moving on...

Really glad we went to the Caves! Much more official than the one we saw in Gibraltar, no offense. The walking tour went by pretty fast... you couldn't touch anything or take pictures (hehe). At the end, everyone (hundreds of us) were seated in rows of benches alongside Lago Martel, Lake Martel-- one of the largest subterranean lakes in the world-- for a beautiful orchestra concert! Out of la oscuridad (the dark) emerged two little rowboats, specially lit up, with an organ and a handful of string instruments. It was a short performance, but definitely a memorable one. After the concert, the main tour guide went to the front and told us that we could continue the tour by foot or boat-- obviously, la barca (the little boat) sounded SO much cooler. The drawback was that it was almost another 25 minute wait, but we figured it would be worth it! So the 5 of us piled into the front of a little rowboat, joined by 12 other people (we swore it was going to tip, if not because of all the weight, then because Juli and Peter were rocking it). We were all geared up and started moving, to realize that the destination was simply a 3 minute paddle to the other side. "JODOOOO," they chanted!

The boys were hungry by the end of the excursion, so we found a little place outside, overlooking a pier. They ordered the most colossal paella (rice and all kinds of seafood) we've ever seen in our lives (again, see pictures). Even though Laura and I told them beforehand that we were still stuffed from our breakfast 2 hours earlier, they insisted that the waiter bring us plates and offered, "Un poquita para las chicas!" (A little bit for the girls!) I'm really glad we ended up trying it because it was delicious! Our lunch turned into the typical Spanish 1.5 hour ordeal, but it was a lot of fun... We were definitely exhausted from speaking by the end of that. When we were done, they told us that our next destination was Inca, another one of Mallorca's great cities. So, we piled into the car and hit the road... initially to find ourselves going in a complete circle (Thank you, Cristian!) The boys had a LOT of fun making fun of him for that. Laura describes our subsequent 3 loops around a traffic circle as a little kid having too much fun going around and around revolving doors. In the end, after a bit of driving, we decided not to stay in Inca-- it wasn't as impressive as anyone thought it was going to be (feísimo) and it was starting to get late. So when we got back to the hotel, we bid the boys adios and went to take a nap-- which was interrupted the 2 or 3 times Peter phoned up to our room to say "Hi!" Oh boy... We ended up not seeing them at dinner, though we would later learn that they saw us. I told them I felt a little insulted that they saw us and didn't bother saying hello. They explained that THEY thought they would have been insulting US if they intruded on our dinner-- it is not considered "Spanish" or polite to encroach on another couple or group of people while they are eating-- quite the opposite of what dad experiences when he chooses to dine in the town in which he works, when everyone runs up to him complaining that "this and that still hurts." They tried to convince us to go out with them for the night, but we had to decline... another early flight nos esperó (awaited us) in the morning, and we were exhausted from the day's adventures. We hung around with them and talked until their cab came, and spent most of our night with Pako. I told him I wasn't really up for an intense drink, so instead he made me decaffeinated café con leche (coffee) and stirred in some Bailey's. Definitely my new favorite thing. He also concocted something delicious on the spot, which we have now dubbed "Cielo de Paco." He wrote down the recipe as our parting gift.

We called it a night, trying not to anticipate the early alarm... de repente (all of a sudden), the telephone rings at 5:30 in the morning. I was too muerto de consado (over exhausted) to move, so Laura answered it. When I head her chant sleepily "Jodoooo" I knew exactly who was calling to say good-bye! Peter and Juli... what great friends... pobrecito (poor) Cristian was lost somewhere in the bar, so they were saying bye on his behalf. They promised us Facebook friend-requests (which obviously came, along with a million photo comments on our photo albums). They will be missed!

Getting onto the plane was a little bit more of a dolor de cabeza (headache) the second time around. Some power hungry, English speaking woman scanning the boarding passes would NOT let us through, making a HUGE production because we did not have our passports. Since when did you need a passport to travel within the same country? And we got to Mallorca just fine, didn't we? The copies of the document weren't even sufficient for her. She threatened us and proceeded to call her boss who, IN HER FACE, said it wasn't a problem. So she huffed, shook her head, and let us on. biaatchhh.

What an incredible vacation, and how tiempo está volando (time is flying). We came home to a full house... and when I say full, i mean it-- they had 12 other family members over for Easter Sunday comida, prepared by her son, Alfonso. We met one of Patricia's sons for the first time, too. Little Alfonsete has grown so much in the few months we've been here... he has taken to teasing me, but it's so cute! He told me, "no hablas bien." (you don't speak well). I sincerely hope he didn't catch that phrase from one of his family members... Laura and I lingered around a little after lunch to talk to Alfonso about life and stuff. When Ana wasn't looking, he poured us a few shots of this liquor called Ponche haha. All is very well in the Terry household... Manolo has been coming downstairs (though not easily) for lunch (doctor's orders). Ana finally had he cast and sling removed-- she's so funny... she rejected the ugly sling they gave her and took to tying her own designed scarfs around her arm.

Had my last midterm today (now Wednesday). It wasn't SO horrible, but the teacher hadn't showed up to class on Monday for any sort of repaso (review). We had no idea if she would come in today, either, because there was no e-mail explaining her absent or confirming that we'd have the test. I'm glad I studied-- she gave a passage by Huidobro and a passage by Vallejo and told us to talk about them. Guess we'll see...

All right... mouth is starting to water at the smell of today's comida... So hasta lavista!