Deia

First things first – a trip at 10:00 to Clinica Belice for my two days before PCR test. Take 2 on that too as they needed to see my passport which was in the hotel – I’m really rubbish at this travelling lark. They were very efficient and friendly and I’m promised results tomorrow evening, [received Negativo at time of writing so if they have crew I might get home!].

Then later than usual to retrieve the car and set off. Well at least I know the way to Valldemossa and with the cloud much higher over the mountains I can appreciate the gorge that leads through the Sierra Tramuntana up to the town.

I know where to park so am soon in the Chopin/Sand cells inside the monastery. It is fascinating and reading George Sand’s disgust for the locals probably explains why they didn’t have a good time here. Her Un hiver en Majorque has some joyous descriptions of the landscape among the groaning about conditions and the impounding of a Pleyel piano for weeks by evil Spanish customs. When you read the copy you realise that they were only here for eight weeks and you wonder why all the fuss? She wrote about it and he composed some of his most famous works. Guess that worth some fuss – 24 Preludes Op28 are very highly regarded by Chopinistas.

The Cartuja cloister, entrance to Cell 4 and an interior view of the two rooms.

What is fascinating is to see the wall displays of facsimiles of his manuscripts with furious revisions. He hit the paper hard as well as the keys. And it is good to see his bust keeping a watchful eye on the piano they’d paid Pleyel 1200 francs for and from which he’d had so little use thanks to customs difficulties

To talk of them living in a monastery cell sounds like real deprivation and there were three adults (FC, GS and maid) and two children living there but they did have a garden of their own which Mme really enjoyed with its stunning views.

I’m not sure whether the trees had formed this circular shape in their day but the view this way hasn’t changed much.

There’s not a huge amount to see and an hour and a bit sufficed. Valldemossa itself is too touristy for my taste, highly groomed streets, some interesting art but a whole lot of craftish tat. So i have a peremptory stroll, stopping of course to snap Chopin Street and WhatsApp it to my friend Jadwiga who is Polish and a Chopin groupie!

As I left the town I was struck by the large number of plane tree avenues leading to and from Mallorcan towns – there are some on the mainland but it feels rather French midi to me. I love them. Good now, but must be great in summer.

Having not eaten until four yesterday I thought ‘wouldn’t it be good if there’s a restaurant between here and Deia.’ There was and it is clearly very popular because while there were only a few diners when I arrived just before two, by the time I left it was full. I had some great sepia in a spicy pica-pica sauce and habanitas con baicon – an old favourite but here the very small broad beans had leeks, onions and peppers as well as bacon. Very tasty and timely – I thought.

The short drive to Robert Graves’ house was familiar too and I much prefer the town to Valldemossa – sorry if that makes me a tasteless Brit. There was a convenient parking spot right opposite the house so I crossed the road full of hope.

The nicest ‘P off we’re closed’ sign ever!

Once again the lack of a planning companion struck – they close at 13:00 so I should have come here first. Doh! However the gate was not locked and I crept in to have a look at the garden at least. I was caught by the very friendly and fluent English speaking gardener who said he would have shown me round the house but had to leave at three-thirty. We chatted about the problems of gardening – it rained for the whole of November and everything is behind – but he’s doing his best, upon which I complemented him, explained I couldn’t come back again this trip but be sure not to miss it next time. He allowed me to take some photos and rewarded me with a couple of incredibly juicy tangerines.

Graves’-house, bust (by Epstein?) studio and tangerines.

With little encouragement, I decided to carry on round the Ma10 to Soller and then head inland and back to Palma through the middle. With today’s better weather in the mountains their scale, variety and colours were amazing – just not enough safe stopping places for photography but I managed a few.

I passed through some interesting towns that would repay a visit: the Botanic Gardens at Alfaibia are closed until March, but look fun; Bunyola had some interesting buildings; and as I came to the end of the Ma2040 I found myself at the Mallorca Fashion Outlet – no point me stopping there! This is on the outskirts of the town of Inca which is linked to Palma by a near-motorway standard Ma13 so I headed on home or back to the hotel at least.

Imagine my delight when drawing the curtains to see the bright green shutters on the building opposite bathed in glowing morning sunlight and framed above by bright blue sky – yes this is Christmas! So I have a light breakfast and set off to the airport to pick up a car to go and visit Rosa and her mother and join them for Christmas lunch. Rosa had rented a villa through AirBnB in the middle of nowhere – in fact the guy who opened up for them said they were in the exact centre of the island – a claim I suspect is shared by several locations. But for any geolocators out there it’s between Sencelles and Inca, Benigali and Costitx. It’s in a part of Mallorca renowned for early settlements and since I’d never encountered the term Talayotic Period (1200-123BC) we decided to go and explore a couple on our way to lunch. Before we set off Rosa, Pepita and I had a ‘conversation’ about our very different experiences and lifestyles and with a few gaps where expressions failed us we got on very well I thought, there were a few smiles and chuckles at least.

At the Santuari Talayotic de Son Corro, supposedly columns built without mortar but showing signs of steel rods and cement.

We were, it must be said, slightly underwhelmed and the visit did not take too long so we set off for another which Google maps said was nearby. We found the hamlet of Binifat quite easily but found no sign of its talayot. Fortunately, a group of people were arriving for a family lunch and with the benefit of my two fluent Catalan speakers, a brother-in-law was fetched who give detailed instructions. Pepita decided it might be a few steps too far for her ailing knees (she is a little older even than me – I was told; I did not ask!) so we left her with the car looking for wild asparagus in the hedgerows and Rosa and I strode off down a lane and as instructed found a very small gate that involved clambering over a low stone wall and the along a fenced path beside a farm pasture. It was a slightly more impressive find with a circular shape and massively thick walls. I did not enter as it would have involved a crawl and I had posh trousers for Christmas lunch not my old jeans, but the nimble Rosa made it through and reported an interior circle looking very similar to the exterior. It would once have had a roof but that is long gone. The signboard at Son Corro said Talayotic sites were used for animal sacrifice and wine drinking and I think there were devilish cults and witchcraft involved too.

We rejoined Pepita at the car, asparagus-free alas, but glad she didn’t make the walk when we showed her the photos. We then went to a village called Costitx where there’s a restaurant inside the Casa Cultural building that also houses the library and the town hall. There were many families at tables enjoying the Christmas lunch – as did we. It was clear that apart from us the two extremely tall and thin maitres d’ (don’t they eat their own delicious food?) knew everybody and teenagers were subjected to lengthy hugs, cheek pinching and sundry other embarrassments. The restaurant could be quite hard to find as it’s called Notenom which means I have no name In Catalan. Two dishes were placed in front of us with the note that these were just nibbles and not the real thing. Whoa! Twelve beautifully crisp calamari rings and a plate of mussels in a fabulous onion, garlic and tomato sofrito. They were excellent but we decided to hold back for the real thing and half the mussels came home with us in a takeaway container. Next up was traditional Mallorcan sopa de Nadal which is filling chicken broth into which are placed pasta shells stuffed with spicy minced beef. I had to apologise for leaving a couple of the pasta shells with my regular excuse “Mas anos pero menor appetito” which usually garners a sympathetic smile. Next up was a huge chunk of Corvina served on a bed of potatoes. We had a) to enquire and b) Google to discover that what is often claimed as the tastiest fish in the Med is ‘brown meagre’ in English should it ever occur. It was quite meaty, very flavoursome and not too strong and I was glad I’d held back – at last a plate to be proud of. I declined the good looking almond cake with ice cream but one of us has a sweet tooth and a slice of that found its way (sin helado) into the homebound bag. No cooking for the Pascuals for the rest of their trip. Since picking up the car I have been most abstemious as even my Catalan understands “Al Volant Zero Alcohol” and I don’t intend to find out how strict they are. However a glass of crisp white with the fish and a copa de cava to celebrate Nadal were essential. It was an unusual but most enjoyable afternoon and was rounded off by chanting youth in hats and horns singing their way through the restaurant to the astonishment even of the owners.

I drove Pepita and Rosa back to their place and had a further coffee and chat before setting off back to Palma. I needed no more food but a few glasses in the hotel’s Sky Bar with views over Palma at night made for a memorable day.

Boxing Day dawned sunny again and I had decided to set off for Valldemossa to visit the Chopin George Sand museum and Deia to see Robert Graves-house. Oh where’s the trip planning suprema when you need her? I drove out of Palma admiring the mountains, arrived, parked, made my well-signed way to the Cartuja, the monastery where they lived and found this.

Right place wrong time – for those without Spanish Domingo cerrado means closed on Sundays and what day was Boxing Day 2021?

I decided to use the rest of the day as a recce and sightseeing day and after a coffee, I set off on the Ma10 up the west coast. Now loyal and regular readers of these scribblings will know that I can get close to ecstatic about twisty mountain roads with sheer drops, sea vistas and hairpin bends with rock fall warnings. You’ll be pleased to hear the Ma10 has been added to the list – it’s a beauty. And I had no one to scare! It does have a few miradors along the way so here was my first pause at San Marroig (from Cap Roig near where I used to have a house in Begur I know that roig is red and you can see why.

Fun cloud formation to the south and the red cape winking at us. and fabulously clear water in the cove below me – nearly tempted me but it’s a long way back up!

Next was Deia home to poet Robert Graves-for so long. His house will have to wait till tomorrow too. But the town perched on its hill is lovely. After a lot of trips to Andalusia it should really all be painted white but the ochres and browns suit the landscape.

I stopped by a large reservoir the Garg Blau – it was very blue – and was very impressed that they’d rescued a sixth century column from being flooded and given it pride of place and a plaque in a pull off on the Ma10.

I carried on with a brief stop in Soller which has a famous tourist train ride down to its port – not today’s though. Some interesting architecture and a quick coffee sufficed. The Ma!0 gets really hairy after Soller as I headed for Pollença where I thought I might get lunch.. Real hairpins, narrow stretches and brilliant views of proper mountains – the Soller Pass is at nearly 500 metres -and then down into a fertile plain behind Pollença. It’s a great old town and had a couple of open restaurants but with wing mirrors at risk in some streets and no obvious parking I decided to head for its port where surely there would be restaurants – it’s a resort after all. And there were. It’s by now gone four o’clock and I’m peckish so olives and bread with allioli keep me going as I order a frito misto which the menu said had a variety of fried seafood but when it came it was distinctly non-fishy. I enquired and was told I’d ordered Frito Mallorquin. It was very tasty but one guide book says it is not for the faint hearted – main ingredients: cubed potatoes, red peppers, onion, garlic, artichoke, black pudding, lamb and chicken livers all fried up in olive oil. I’m OK with offal but I could appreciate the guide book warning which I found back at the hotel for many others. The best thing was watching the evening sun fall on the lovely bay at Port de Pollença.

By the time I’d polished that off and found a less tortuous route back to Palma it felt like most of my Boxing Day had been spent with me at the wheel of my tin box – no complaints from me though – I always did like a location recce!

Tag: Deia

Chopin/Graves Take 2

Christmas Day and a day in a box