Dia Uno.

By all accounts we shouldnt be here, for this we have a mutual friend to thank. It was pretty much his idea that we should all head off to Palma as Grant is learning Spanish and it would be a decent break. However, our mutual friend then flaked out quite spectacularly and so it was left to Grant & Myself to get things sorted. Grant arranged the Air BnB and flights were booked. We left at 4.00 am as the flight was at 7.10 am - If you've read any of these blogs before, you'll know that we've got a record of keeping very tight deadlines and even missing flights, so hence the early getaway.

We got to Bristol Airport in plenty of time and an early morning libation was called for. I'm not one normally for a Breakfast Beer, but as Grant pointed out, our wonderful Government are looking to ban the sale of alcohol in the morning time in the airports. So we had a beer in defiance of this proposal.

The flight was pretty dandy as the plane was only three quarters full, which meant we could nab some free seats, blob out and maybe catch some shut eye. It's not a long flight and only takes a couple of hours to get to Mallorca. The weather seemed pretty good when we arrived and we got the public bus into Central Palma. We've been here before, so we sort of know our way round.So we hop off the bus and head in the direction of our Air BnB apartment. Turns out we're about a five minutes walk from the Centre of town which is well handy. It turns out we're a bit early and our host Catarina isnt in residence. We're staying on the seventh floor and the lift is a bit of a small one. I mention this as lifts normally spark a bout of claustrophobia in me, ( See Amsterdam Blog.) Initially I did lug the bag up the stairs but then made a mental point of using the lift in the future....which I did, amazingly so. As we were early I headed off for a quick haircut. Ten minutes later we met up with Catarina our host, Catarina showed us around and after dumping the bags we were once again on our way.

One place on our list was Magaluf and so it was decided we'd hop on a bus and tick it off the list. Shagaluf is the summer breeding ground of our old friends The Heavily Tattooed Bellowing Apes of Great Britian and their female ilk and I must admit I've always wondered what it's like there. It's only twenty minutes on the bus and we were quite shocked when we arrived. There were no drunken hordes vomiting in the gutter or young ladies fighting in the street, in fact the place was shut and looked like a post piss up Chernobyl. Nearly every place was shuttered for the winter but one place still open was the Gambling Hall....so in we went - Grant as usual struck lucky on one of the slotties and pocketed Fifty Euros, so with swedge in pocket we wandered off to get some grub. The only place we could find was called Taco Burger - it wasnt bad actually and a Litre of Lager cost two euros - not too shabby. Apparently the older folks from Merry Olde England come to Magaluf for the Winter months and we did see some over the square wining and dining in a posh place that probably cost ten times as much as we paid for our Tacos and Beer.

Getting back into Palma was a bit of a hassle as we couldnt find the bus stop...but did so eventually. We found a decent bar on the wrong side of the tracks (outside of the expensive old city). Grant had an early night and I decided to have a wander. We're staying in the Graffiti Sector but it seems pretty laid back. I found a nice cafe serving booze and got talking to a chap called Paul, who was originally from Durban, South Africa but had lived in Palma for the last eighteen years. Paul had travelled a lot and had ended up in Palma after crewing a yacht over here. Paul told me that not many European tourists ventured into this part of town, great, that's the way I like it.

Tommorow we head to Soller.