Back to Balearics - a photo on Flickriver

Back to Balearics

            “Three weeks?  Oh no, we don’t do that!  Nine or ten days at most is enough for us.  We’d never stay that long.” 

Quite why this woman felt the need to question the length of our holiday in such admonishing tones was a question that hung tentatively in the air across the desk between us.  That she’d obviously been earwigging the conversation between us and the hotel receptionist was another one that nobody seemed to have an answer to.  Why do people so often seem to feel the need to impose their own values on you?  I mean, we weren’t doing anything wrong that either of us were aware of.  Apart from checking in at the same time as a busybody with an agenda that was.  It’s not as if we were hatching plans to kidnap puppies, or hotwire the neighbour’s Vauxhall Viva while he’d gone to dominoes night at The Plume, was it?  As far as we know, it is entirely legal to choose the length of your own holiday and go for three weeks if you so desire.  Or even three months.  Or three days if that’s what floats your boat.  We smiled, nodded and hoped we wouldn’t bump into her or her husband for the remainder of the nine or ten days at most that they had booked themselves in for.  

Apart from that, it was good to be back in this part of the world.  Catalunya and the Balearics.  Before we retired, we used to take just two weeks - because three was out of the question as far as work was concerned - in Majorca every summer.  We often went in spring as well.  It was like a second home for us.  For many years we hoped it would become a first home in fact, but a lot of barriers seem to have put themselves in the way of that particular ambition.  We loved exploring different corners of the island, finding spots that the likes of Mr and Mrs Noseyparker were never likely to discover, swimming and snorkelling in the gentle warm Mediterranean.  It was a place where we were completely happy and knew exactly where we were going for those two precious August weeks.  The journey home to the dreaded September silly season, otherwise known as the start of the autumn term, was always an especially low moment in the annual cycle of events.  And from there things only ever seemed to get worse.

Then 2020 arrived and the world closed down for a couple of years.  By the time things started to return to normal, we were no longer straitjacketed by the academic year planners.  We could go away whenever we wanted.  And “whenever we wanted” wasn’t in the middle of summer when prices were sky high and everyone else was on holiday too.  Now we could take our holidays when the rest of the world was working or in school - well except for us and the couple who seemed to think that we should be on our way home by next Friday at the very latest.  Head for the sun at bargain prices at the start of October and things are far more peaceful in these southern latitudes than they ever were in August.  And now we were finally back in the Balearics.  But instead of our old stomping ground, we’d decided to have a look at the quieter and smaller neighbour to the east.  Neither of us had ever been to Menorca before, but we’d heard good things.

We could see the similarities almost immediately.  The scented green pine forests and the baked red earth were so friendly and familiar.  The curious balls of soft vegetation on the beaches that we’ve only ever seen on these islands.  Unyielding white limestone walls flanking narrow roads, the edges as sharp as dragons’ teeth.  Conversations in the local Catalan dialect rather than Spanish.  Road signs leading the way to the “platja,” rather than the “playa.”  We could easily be back on the island where we’d spent so many summers, but there were subtle differences too.  There was a compactness that we liked, and even though the main road across the island was mostly a single carriageway in either direction, it soon became apparent that it wouldn’t take that long to get to wherever we wanted to go.  And then there was that wild section of coastline to the north, mostly visited only by the hikers who were on the Cami de Cavalls, the long distance trail that circumnavigates the island.  

The very first outing was a wild one too for that matter, as the tail end of a mainland storm strafed the top half of the island.  White tops on the water at Cala Pregonda.  It was a good job that I’d brought the camera bag then.

Taken in: Spain / Balearic Islands / es Mercadal / Cala Tirant (show map)

Taken on: October 3, 2024

Tags:

Menorca

Baleares

Balears

Balearics

Minorca

Cala

Pregonda

Cala Pregonda

Sea

seascape

sea shore

sea stack

sea stacks

seaspray

Coast

coastal

Mediterranean

Spain

Espana

España

Catalunya

Catalonia

Catalan

Cataluña

Canon

Island

waves

drama

Europe

littoral

rocks

Ocean « less

Sets appears in: • Menorca 2024

Groups appears in: • Amateurs • Outdoor Photographer Magazine (Unofficial) more » • "SEASCAPE" • Photography Week • HIMMELSBILDER - SKY • Amateur Photographer Magazine • Flickr Social • Peak (Curated) • Photographic Excellence ✰✰✰✰✰ • "El Mar / The Sea" « less

Camera: Canon EOS 80D, f/11.0, 0.3 sec, 29mm, ISO 100 (more info) (hide info)

Camera:	Canon EOS 80D
Lens:	EF-S18-135mm f/3.5-5.6 IS STM
Aperture:	f/11.0
Exposure Time:	0.3
Focal Length:	29mm
ISO:	100
Exposure Bias:	0 EV
Flash:	Off, Did not fire
Exposure Program:	Aperture-priority AE
Exposure Mode:	Auto
Metering Mode:	Multi-segment
White Balance:	Auto
Color Space:	Uncalibrated
Software:	Adobe Photoshop Lightroom Classic 14.1.1 (Windows)
Show full info

Stats: 1,711 views / 73 comments

Link to this photo view:
Link to this photo large view: