Once upon a time, Mia and I spent a month working at a yoga retreat center on the island of Mallorca.
And though most of our time was spent washing dishes and naming the insects in our room rather than doing yoga, we occasionally were able to explore the island.
One afternoon we went to Palma, which is the largest city on Mallorca. We spent hours goggling at all the stylish Spaniards, and debating the merits of becoming street performers.
Our most common destination was Pollença, a small town nearest the retreat center. It was a 30 minute bike from the property. Mia liked to stop and play horse whisperer along the way. I liked to stand and watch from a safe distance, swearing about the dangers of feeding wild animals.
We relished in our freedom during those afternoons in Pollença. We drank beer, we ate chocolate, and we participated in multiple olive pit spitting contests. As I write the blog and am therefore privy to personal bias, I’ll go ahead and say that I was the ultimate victor. But why would you think otherwise?
Mia found ways to cope with her defeat.
Other days, we traveled to beaches both near and far. Our most memorable trip consisted of a 40 minute car ride to a stunning beach with Yves the housekeeper, who was kind enough to tour us around on one of his rare afternoons off.
We parked the car in a small lot. From there, we walked along a dirt path that weaved through the rocky coastline. One of the tunnels we passed through was pitch black except for this tiny hole that peered out over the ocean, offering a beautiful preview as to what was soon to come.
The journey continued until we entered into this desolate valley of sand. Then finally, hiding just between two nearly kissing cliffs, we found our oasis.
Now to be totally honest, this beach was all sorts of crowded and it’s a miracle that this picture wasn’t photobombed by some doggy-paddling toddler. That being said, this photo is also unfiltered and unedited. The water really is that clear. I really am that white.
After a long day’s journey, it was actually nice to return to La Serrania. The property was so quiet and relaxing. Plus Pancake, the dead beetle in our bathroom, got lonely when we were gone for too long.
And then again, the view from inside our little shack wasn’t too bad either.