Majorca. - unexpectedly interesting, different and unusual.
Having traveled all the interesting Greek islands, I decided to change direction and give up on Mallorca. To be honest, I did not expect anything magical and particularly exciting from this island, and in vain. Mallorca turned out to be an island very rich in interesting places and many things, perhaps, you will not find anywhere else.
Drak caves. This is the place for which you need to go to Mallorca. The caves themselves, in general, nothing special. Well, you walk for a long time among all sorts of stalactites and stalagmites. Very beautiful, and nothing more. But a rather long path ends with a huge cave hall on the shores of the largest underground lake in Europe. The people are seated on the benches (200 people are allowed in) and the manager demands to turn off the electronic devices. The light goes out. The darkness is total. And suddenly, from afar, slowly, three dimly lit rowing boats approach. One of them houses a concertina quartet, a pair of violins and a cello. And they play Mozart and Bach. Guys!!!! ! A kilometer underground, in the ass of the world....And they are sailing on a boat and playing Bach!
How. And then those wishing to boat on this underground lake float to the exit. Also, let me tell you, it doesn't happen to everyone.
On the way back, you will most likely be taken to a factory - a shop for the manufacture of artificial and cultured pearls. I do not advise you to go. It will be under the brand "Madzhorika", but it will not be her. And the price is comparable. In the shop closest to the hotel you will buy a set (necklace, earrings) in a box with the inscription Mallorca and everything for 10 euros. And the quality will be about the same. Better go up to the second floor of this complex. There is a shoe-bag fur paradise. Prices and selection will suit anyone. (Men's beige loafers - 22 euros, women's large gray-white knitted fur vest - 95 euros).
Against the backdrop of an underground concert, all other attractions somehow fade, but they are still worth a visit. Let's say the lighthouse of Cap Formentor. It is located on a narrow, unsettling cape in the very north of the island. Species are indescribable. There is a cafe and a toilet. When I drove up to the lighthouse, the bourgeoisie staged a stupid traffic jam. Instead of letting the cars moving down, which, of course, free up space in a small parking lot, the woodpeckers crawled up the oncoming lane and did not let people leave safely.
On the way back from the lighthouse, I got a little lost and we arrived at Pollenza Bay. It turned out that this is not even a millionaire, but a billionaire place. Parking by the beach 20 e. Well, that's fine. And the fee for an umbrella and a sunbed is 50 e. - how is it? A light snack in a restaurant cost me the budget of Mauritania. But the truth is, everything was beautiful, like in films about life abroad.
While the children splashed in the sea, I went to wander along the beach and gawk at the yachts. Moving quite far from the fifty-euro umbrellas, I came across two girls dressed only in symbolic thongs. The girls were unearthly, of dazzling beauty. Slender chiseled figures, manes of blond hair....You don't often see them in pictures. I admired and became slender and silent. In a sense, the stomach pulled in so that it was difficult to breathe. They were obviously in this place in order to pick up some millionaire. (In no way do I condemn. ) Recognizing this in me, obviously, according to a pre-agreed scenario, one of them grabbed the camera and assumed the pose of a professional photographer, turning off her naked ass, and the second climbed onto a tree hovering over the water and lay down on it in a very interesting positions, getting ready, like, being photographed. The picture, I'll tell you, is like from an advertising booklet about the Maldives. And all of a sudden, everything went dark. The one that climbed a tree, suddenly jumped off it, began to spin and yell in pure Russian - “Here... fuck your mother. There is resin! B. . d I'm all smeared!! ! And hair and hand! And how am I now washing my panties stsuko !!!!! ” I exhaled, turned around and walked towards my family.
Be sure to visit the local zoo safari park. The ticket attendant at the entrance told me an interesting phrase - “Feeding animals from a car window is strictly prohibited, but because You will do it anyway – keep in mind that many animals are dangerous and aggressive. ” It's nice there. You are driving a car and various animals run up to you and stick their muzzles into the salon. There are almost no cells. The only thing was that it was very unpleasant when the monkeys stuck around the car and began to beat rather viciously on the windows, demanding chips. Out of fear, the daughter even hid in the trunk. Only the zebras that came up later reconciled her to life. At the end of this road there is a parking lot and a space where you can cuddle any animal young.
I also rented a yacht. Afraid that the children would be seasick, I called my seafaring friend and asked how and what. He fooled me for a long time with words like 'keel' and 'flybridge', but in the end he explained that he shakes less on a vessel that looks like a fishing trawler as much as possible. I took this one. Price…. Well, for a ten-meter vessel with a cabin, unlimited drinks, food and a helmsman - 350 e - this is not so much. But there are a lot of impressions. The captain, realizing that I'm not crazy and gave me the helm not for the first time. We swam all the interesting places of the surrounding coast. Fished, swam. My family sailed to the shore, got out onto someone's pier, and the cap was alarmed, saying that this was the private property of the owner of the Nestle company. We saw the house that F1 world champion Sebastian Vettel bought for himself. We saw and got acquainted with the captain of the unique boat RIVA of 1952 release. And RIVA, among boats, is cooler than Rolls-Royce among cars. Her captain said that he owns Riva Russian, but did not give a name. In short, it was worth it.
Once again, I booed by ordering a lobster from one of the city's most popular and expensive restaurants. To be honest, I have never tried it. Apparently it was the coolest dish of the establishment. 2 waiters brought it to me, noisily and showing off. Then they put 8 different tweezers, hooks and forks next to the dish. And all the visitors of the restaurant looked with interest both at the dish itself and with the expectation of how I would cope with this preparation. In short, I gnawed it with my teeth without using any of the proposed. I can eat crayfish. The owner of the establishment then approached me and said that for the first time he saw such a virtuoso way of eating a delicacy and gave me a bottle of wine with him. And he said it quite sincerely. There was nothing left of the lobster.
In Moscow, I wake up at 6 am. It was 4 o'clock local time. It is clear that going for a walk at such a time is quite wild and I whiled away the time on the balcony, battling with the Internet, which was so difficult for me. It connects normally, I did not succeed right away.
I knew that the bay, on the shore of which our hotel stands, is famous for its sunrises. Almost the most beautiful sunrises in the Mediterranean. And one day, I put on shorts and went to the beach at 4.30 local time. To be honest, it was somehow not very... I immediately wet my pants, sitting on a sunbed covered with dew. I didn't have any other clothes. I had my camera and cigarettes with me. And that's it. Boring and dark. Somewhere at 5.15 came 2 heavily drunk, !! ! naked, vigorous, tanned to zero German women and persuaded me to swim with them. The water was unexpectedly warm. The bathing was quite provocative, only these two Brigids whinnied so loudly and boisterously that I was afraid that we would wake up the whole coast. Then they left. The joke was that on the beach at night they looked more or less organic, but they went along the road, deep into the city and the picture of two naked aunts wandering under the lamps was strange. And at 6.15 dawn began. Smart people looked in advance on the Internet when this would happen and approached with their cameras 10 minutes before the sun came up.
Well, what can I say. Well dawn. We are no worse.
Palma de Mallorca is an unexpectedly large and rich city for, in principle, a rural island. Nice main cathedral. It is so big and beautiful that it would adorn any European metropolis. And so everything is as it should be. There are narrow medieval streets. There are good malls for shopping. I like it.
On almost every trip, different stories happen to me on the verge of legality. And here again. One evening, when I was sitting on the balcony and talking on the Internet with the Old Woman Izergil, and my wife was sitting next to me and drinking Rioja, someone poured a bucket of water from the upper balcony, including on us. Why water? And where is the bucket from? I leaned out and asked what it was? Clear. Anything happens. Well, you would apologize. They said it was by accident. But no. Another bucket of water was poured on my face. Then I went berserk, yelled that I was Russian, and I was already going to eat someone's face, rushed to the floor above. There I started kicking down the door. It turned out to be a tough bastard. And kicked. And on the run. Did not work out. But I alarmed the hotel. The hotel staff came running and I explained the situation to them. They tried to negotiate through the door with these oblivants, but there was deathly silence in the room. And I continued to kick this door. I was told that this could not continue and they called the police. I replied that the police are what you need. Tired, I came to the room and on reflection realized that my position in this conflict was losing. The water has already dried up and you can’t prove anything. Something had to be done. I called the members of our company and when the police, accompanied by two porters, entered our room, the picture was nice and calm. I played tops with the children at the table. My wife and her friend were solving Sudoku, and another friend was sitting in an armchair knitting. The receptionists, with whom, in principle, I was friendly, realized that there was nothing to catch and led the policemen to the floor above. I don’t know what the conversation was about, but in the morning the upper room was empty and was not populated until my departure.
Here is such a trip.
A couple more tips. Don't rent a quad. There is absolutely nowhere to go except roads. Even in forests and fields, private territory is fenced off from the road with a grid. Everywhere. Quite everywhere.
It is clear that in Spain the most popular drink is Sangria. So. Next time you go, order Tinto de Verano. It's a Sangria-like thing, but a little carbonated and more daytime, or something. It is better to drink in the heat.
P. S. No offense. I do not want to impose my opinion on anyone and the taste and color, as they say. But this trip with a hotel, renting a yacht, cars, carriages, with excursions and eating lobster cost me less than I would have paid for the same 2 weeks at the same time in the beloved Turkish “Utopia”. And it seems to me that my trip was much richer in positive emotions than the Turkish all inclusive.
