Honeymoon- Day 7 (4/25/2011)

It was about volume today, or so I thought. It is our second to last day in Mallorca and we wanted to see as much as we could. There was a lot of driving. After leaving our the Gran Hotel Soller, we headed to Port d'Soller. It is a post-card Mediterranean village that is very touristy. I saw an advertisement for Burger King there. We were able to get the shot of the boats in the harbor with the Mediterranean-style homes draping the hillside. It looks quaint at least. We did however, find a pastry shop for breakfast and walked away with a small cache of tasty goodies.

The stay in Port d'Soller was brief an we were off to Deia. Deia had been mentioned as a quaint mountain town in the tour books. At first, the drive was fine, but then the road narrowed and the turns started. Then, the tour buses began coming in the opposite lane. To get a sense of the narrow lanes, imagine a smart car, add about 2 inches on each side and you've got a lane. Now, imagine a tour bus twisting and turning on a lane that size. Suffice it to say, there were a couple of moments today I feared for our safety. The stop in Deia was well earned, having evaded no less than 4 large tour buses, some by inches, on the precarious road.

I must admit, after the run-ins with the tour buses and general nature of the road, I had a big chip on my shoulder when I arrived at Deia. The bad mood faded, though, as we walked Deia's streets. (Key word here- walked.) On one side of town, you could look from quaint stone buildings onto a valley of orange and olive groves, terraced along the mountainside. From the other side of town, you looked upon the Mediterranean. It was absolutely lovely, even though the day was a tiny bit overcast. At the top of the hill is -surprise!- another church. This one was special, though, in that it had a cemetery attached. The cemetery had phenomenal views of the Mediterranean. I suppose that is one way to rest in peace.

From Deia, we took a short drive to Son Marroig, a mansion formerly owned by the Archduke Ludwig Salvator. Salvator was originally from Austria, but fell in love with Mallorca and promoted its natural beauty. He died in 1915 and his home is now open for tours. Really, the tour was not of the home, but a parlor, a dining room a hallway, a bedroom and some stairs. That's okay, though, because the beauty was outside the home in the surrounding gardens and striking vistas of the sea.

Valldemossa was the next stop for us, and every other tourist in this part of the island. The town had prepared for a large number of visitors, given the parking spaces, but even with lots, it looked grim that we would find a spot and were prepared to view Valldemossa from the car. Fortunately, we finally found parking and were able to wander the town. The town's historical records go back to the 14th century. It is most famous because Chopin lived there one winter and had an affair with a woman named George Sand. (Is that like a boy named Sue?) For a reason I have not been able to ascertain, Michael Douglas, the American actor, opened a museum of sorts with a reproduction of Archduke Salvator's boat. Valldemossa had all of the elements of the other towns, stone buildings and streets, but it was so commercialized with shops that it seemed to detract from the cuteness. We got some fabulous pictures of the vistas from town, though, and were able to grab some croissants with ham and cheese from a bustling local pastry shop. We also tried an ensaimada (the fluffy, croissant-like pastry) with sobrassada (the sausage-like meat). It was an unusual blend, especially since they covered the whole thing with sugar. Our stay in Valldemossa was brief and chotchke-free.

Bunyola was next on our list. (Don't you just love the names of these towns?) This little hamlet is quite sleepy with a big church in its center and stone buildings. We were there in the midst of siesta, but walked around and took in its charm. I think we both appreciated the lack of activity a little more, since we had just come from Valldemossa.


The tour books had warned us about the drive between Bunyola and our next stop, Orient. I believe "nail biter" was the phrase they used. Having recently played chicken with tour buses earlier in the day and dodged oncoming, downhill traffic to get around biking tourists earlier in the week, I scoffed the tour book writers. I implied they were wimps. Sure, the road was narrow and it had some twists and turns, but can you really call this a nail biter? That was shortly before a segment of switchbacks like you have never seen. The road was barely suitable for a smartcar and the turns were (accurately described in the tour books as) hairpin. There were no shoulders or turnouts. You were at the mercy of your fellow drivers whether or not they would stop to allow you to make the turns as you took up the whole road. It was the most stressful 5 miles I have ever driven. Who has a free hand to bite a nail on a trip like that?

This next sentence is going to make you believe I over dramatized the drive to Orient to garner sympathy for my cause, but Tony edits this thing and I don't think he'd allow me to lie to you. During that 5 mile drive, the car and a metal guard rail made contact. I like to say they kissed or danced, but the beautiful little Peugeot now has a beautiful little scratch/dent on the passenger side. (Insert sad-face here.) After calling the booking agent and the car rental company, both said the damage is covered by the insurance with no excess (deductible), so we have our fingers crossed that there will be no problems when we return the car. I have no doubt that Tony would prefer to be driving from this point forward, though.

We finally made it to the hotel in Orient, L'Hermitage. It was a former monastery, turned luxury hotel. Our room is very large, with an attached sitting area and a front porch and adjacent patio that look out on the property's orchards, terraced olive groves on the hillside and mountains in the distance. The person who led us to our room said that guests can wander the orchard in the summer and fall and eat the fruit they pick from the trees. There is absolute peace and quiet here. The only sound you hear is the baaa-ing of sheep grazing in the distance and the cow bells that they wear around their necks. It is pristine. We opened a bottle of wine and walked the grounds before the sun left us.

Dinner at the hotel was incomparable. I tried Mallorcan Tumbet, basically a warm vegetable terrine, since it was an island specialty and we weren't going to be able to enjoy Mallorcan specialties much longer. It was phenomenal. The veggies were cooked perfectly and were covered in a tomato sauce with pesto and gigantic chunks of Parmesan cheese. Tony had minestrone soup with "crepe pasta." It was light on vegetables, but the crepe pasta was interesting and the broth was incredible. Our main courses were also delicious. We avoided, what looked like delicious, desserts and returned to our room. I had thought the view from our room was incredible, but even more incredible was the view of the starry night, without noise or competing light. I think I could get used to living in a monastery.