A Day out in Palma & Santa Catalina

We start the day with a swim. This time there are reasonable swells but no breaking waves. The water is marginally today than it has been, but not enough to deter an easy plunge. There is no one about at this relatively early [for Spain] swimming hour. It's magical to bob about in the salty sea and watch the world go by and planes fly overhead, with the cathedral standing proud over the city of Palma in the distance. An unhurried and invigorating start to the day - which is heating up by the minute. 

After a hearty brunch of cheese, jambon, pate, crackers and nibbly bits, we take the No. 35 bus to the Cathedral. We are now dab hands at this bus business and it sure beats that long walk on a hot day ,especially when time is of the essence. Having said that, I have already espoused the glory of the Molinar-Palma walk ... which is best taken in the cooler hours of night.  

Even a bus rides generates thirst and we need a beer in a square. We find a nice place called Simbad and are amused that the beer here, situated beneath the Cathedral, is cheaper than other beers have been, which is surprising and heartening given this is one of the more touristy parts of town. A higher price was expected, but a lower one is worth shouting about! Go Simbad! I do hope our surly gruff waiter has a happier day tomorrow and smiles at his patrons more than he did for us!

Above us sits the Royal Palace de l'Almudaina, next door to the Cathedral - and this is where we are headed. It is an imposing alcazar (fortified palace) dating back to the 13th century. It is the official summer residence of the King of Spain and royal family members and an impressive mix of medieval and Moorish styles. The public can visit and it is well worth doing so. At night it is lit up beautifully.

Functions are held in this room - I'd like an invitation!

There are some wonderful tapestries on the walls - it's hard to quantify how many countless hours and people it must have taken to create them. 

There's a lovely little courtyard and a lovely little chapel. And behind it all - the massive Cathedral.

I'd been enchanted by the shape and simplicity of this palace since I first set eyes on it during a visit to the island back in 2008. In fact, I used it as the basis of an artwork. Called "Mallorcan Memories" I put it in an exhibition in Dec 2008 - and not only did I sell it, I also won a prize for it!!

And now I have walked inside, outside and all around that palace. Excellent!

"Mallorcan Memories" artwork

Some photos of the Cathedral ...

We'd been planning to also visit Palau March museum which houses sculptures by Rodin, Moore and others. Alas, it is closed. We don't lament the situation too much as it's so damn hot we're not sure our bodies or minds will cope with anything more than ice-cream. The pistachio and white chocolate flavour is delicious and we gain energy to walk to the Santa Catalina area where we will dine tonight. 

Leaving the majestic Cathedral and Palace behind us, we head to the old town whose charming alleyways will lead us to Santa Catalina. 

But first we come to J&P's favourite little bar - the Bodega con Rigo. It's almost 6pm and this tiny place, with its bar-seating and a little mezzanine floor reached by a tricky staircase that I fear I may come to grief on before I've even had a wine, is so authentic and inviting it would be rude not to go inside and give them custom! At 18 Euro a bottle or 3.50 Euro a glass, the rose we enjoy is cheap and tasty and we absorb the surroundings that are admired by all who enter, as well as those who poke their nose in and move reluctantly on because they have somewhere else to be. This is one very cool little bodega and one cannot help but be entranced by it.

We cross a little bridge and make our way to Santa Catalina, an area of Palma that used to be the home of fishermen, ropemakers and flour millers. Nowadays, its a mix of photogenic old houses with charming facades and a vast array of restaurants serving edgy food from around the world. It has become a sophisticated hotspot with a casual vibe and is an ideal place to wander, eat and drink at leisure, day or night. 

We dine al fresco at Buscando el Norte which offers a modern take on tapas. Directors chairs do not make the best dining chairs on an uneven pavement surface, but being outside on a balmy calm evening in Mallorca is perfect. It is 32.5 degrees at 7.10pm. 

Peter and I share a selection of pinxtos - shrimp, ribs, suckling pig, foie (you can tell why Jill is not involved!) - and all choices are delicious. The foie with chocolate and papaya is a yummy combo and the shrimp is one huge beast to be chopped up and divided. Jill has a roast pumpkin burrata salad that she declares absolutely delicious. 

Replete, warm and weary, we walk back to the Born (the hub of Palma), hail a taxi and head home. A red wine nightcap slips down easily and sleep soon beckons. Another fabulous day concluded and my last full one, on this trip at least. 

OBSERVATION OF THE DAY:
I have enjoyed my Med swims very much (four in total). As mentioned, the water hasn't been flat and calm like it usually is in this part of the world but, no matter, it is still very easy to swim around in - no ocean beach waves crashing over you, undertows pulling you out and currents lurch you about.

As I swam around the rocks in Molinar, I reflected back to the day I nearly drowned - yes, on Tuesday 18th January 2022, my life might have ended. I got into extreme difficulty in the water at Omaha Beach, where I have swum for 50 years, and it was a terrifying ordeal. 

Here is how the drama unfolded ...

I am paddling around in the shallows at about 2pm on a gorgeous summer's day with the intention of a quick afternoon swim. For some reason I don't like the strength of the waves or the pulling swirling sensation around my feet as they ebb away. My gut is saying a loud "no, don't go in" but my whole being is keen to do so. And why wouldn't you want to swim on a perfect day like this ...?

18th January 2022 - the day I nearly drowned!

I move along the beach a short way to see if another spot might have less undertow and a less threatening feel. I am paddling up to mid-calf level and my gut is still screaming "no" at me but I am choosing not to listen. 

Next minute I am bowled over by an incredibly strong wave and am on all fours in the shallows in a most undignified pose, wondering what on earth has just hit me. Before I am able to stand up, I am whipped out to sea in a matter of seconds. Suddenly I am far from shore and I have no idea how I got there. I'm a bit alarmed as it happened so quickly but I start swimming my way back to shore. OMG I  seem to be heading further out to sea with each stroke that is taking me nowhere. I tread water and try to get my head around my predicament. It is not good. I'm a moderate swimmer, but this is way out of my league. 

I am not being carried along the beach like a rip would do; I'm just being carried out to the horizon. To a place where I may never be seen again. 

I realise that drowning is a real possibility - even if I have the stamina to keep myself afloat for some time, no one will know I'm out here and drifting far away. I contemplate the reality that my life could end right here at this beach where I have swum for five decades. The thought is horrific and my life flashes before my eyes. It is a dire moment in time and a sickening feeling that I cannot describe but will never forget. 

And then I think of my boys. I can't leave them. I tell myself I can't drown, not here, not now - I have too much more to do in life. And I have a group to take to the Chatham Islands in three day's time!!! I gather all the resolve and energy I can muster and make a plan not to die. 

The Surf Club is on duty but by now I'm not sure they'll even see me, I'm so far out. I feel like my head must be as hard to spot as a peppercorn in a swimming pool and if I don't get help very soon then not dying is probably not an option. 

Time is of the essence and there is nothing else to do but put my hand up and yell "HELP". It feels surreal to be doing something that only happens in movies or to other people - and by now I am both terrified and terribly calm. Help, Help, I yell as loud as I can. HELP!

Thankfully a guy walking along the beach hears my cries. It is not far to the Surf Club and I assume he'll run and get help, but instead he discards his backpack and t-shirt and races out to me. When he reaches me, his presence and strength flood me with relief and we begin to make our way back to shore. I am not panicking, I am working with him to get us back to safety - but it takes more than half an hour of incredibly hard work. At one point I am worried my rescuer is low on energy and, with still a long way to go, I fear we both may drown. But one must never give up, not if one wants to live ... 

We finally make it to shore, both of us completely exhausted. No surf lifesavers ever came - I obviously became a peppercorn in a pool too quickly! Being a Tuesday, the beach isn't very busy but, even so, no one there has noticed anything either, they continue to read their books or chat amongst themselves.

I am shaking in utter shock and so glad to be safe. My saviour's name is Dwayne and I discover he used to do some surf lifesaving some years ago. We have come in right on line with his backpack - there had been no drifting or being taken along the beach like a rip is supposed to do. Dwayne tells me that there is some sort of channel that has formed out there and I got dragged out to it. Happily, we both got out alive. I thank him profusely and he goes on his way. 

Standing on the beach in complete disbelief at what has just happened, I have the wherewithal to take a photo of the near-death scene ... can you see the channel? Look closely, it's the small dirty smudge in about the centre of the photo - this is where I was sucked out to! Believe me, it's way further than it looks and I cannot believe how quickly I was taken there or how frightening it was to be there. 

18th Jan 2022 - the smudge that nearly killed me!

I walk home and tell my neighbours what has just happened. "But we were down there and saw you paddling in the shallows as we left," they say incredulously. "Yes, but next minute ..."

Later, reflecting upon my ordeal and trying to make sense of things, I realise there were some contributory components - the slack tide was turning, it was the peak of the Full Moon and, perhaps most telling of all, the Tongan earthquake had happened three days earlier, generating tsunami warnings and some sea chaos. Somehow this channel had formed. It seems all these things collided and almost got me. OMG, I contemplate the absurdity that the Full Moon nearly killed me!

It was obviously not yet my time to go, and my guardian angels were looking over me. With Dwayne to the rescue! Thank you Dwayne, it would have been a different outcome if you hadn't come along when you did. You were the right man in the right place at the right time, and you saved me!

Morals of the story: Never under-estimate the power of the sea even on a perfect day. Always listen to your gut! And don't swim on the Full Moon and turning tide when tsunamis are about!!