Motoring on Mallorca

Mallorca is a gorgeous island. I rented a moped and went sight-seeing on Cap Formentar, then to the monastery and nunnery at Lluc, then down to the citrus growing region of Soller, and then down to Palma to visit the famous Citadel, Castille Bellevedere, and the city walls and moat. The trip took a total of 226 km. Going full throttle on the tiny mountain roads was awesome. Incidentally, they wanted to charge 6€  for a roadmap, so I actually opened up the picture of a Mallorca placemat I had taken for the blog and navigated using that.

Cap Formentar is a pine-covered nature preserve with winding roads, incredibly steep hills and few side barriers. I had a lot of fun on these, though the British drivers in their rental cars, driving on the "wrong" side of the road (really, on the right side of the road for a change), seemed to be terrified every time there was oncoming traffic.

Monastery at Lluc

On the way down from Cap Formentar, stopped at Lluc, the site of an active monastery and nunnery. Sadly, the nuns and monks do not wear their garb except during rites, so it's not possible to tell who is who. This area shows how big the Lluc operation must once have been. A society can only turn such a huge percentage of its people into clergymen and women if it has huge overproduction. So I guess there must have been bouts of super-productive decades on Mallorca, presumably when it is not being occupied and fought over.

Does a town the size of Soller really need a tram? In any case, they have it, and it looks cool.

Soller downtown. 

Me doing my best to blend in with the citrus

Why isn't there a single public fountain in the US?

Dome of the Citadel in Palma

Soller is apparently the citrus region of Mallorca. The agriculture seemed to be collectivized, and better yet, the collective was offering 1€ freshly squeezed orange juice, squeezed by the kind of girl you'd only find in a commercially produced ad with a $3M budget. I don't understand why socialized, collective operations always attract cute young women, but they universally seem to. This is one reason the progressive movement will always be one step ahead of, and strictly more fun than, the alternatives.

From Soller down to Palma was fun. Went into the Citadel this time -- turns out that one of the columns was done by Gaudi, but the Citadel itself is very much your giant classical Catholic edifice. The standard panels on the life and times of Christ, with the standard dark oppressive ceilings. I find that the centerpiece cross is a good indicator of the general attitude of any given church. For instance, if the particular church's take is based around guilt, the Christ is particularly lifelike, has nails with explicit blood, looks at you directly and overall guilt-trips you. The Citadel has a Christ figure in the center mounted on something that very much looks like a ship, which makes perfect sense. I still found the place a little overbearing. It didn't help that the past vicars had been buried there as well and I found myself walking over someone by mistake. They go Gaudi to repair one column in the citadel, so there is one part of the Citadel that looks pretty interesting, but on the whole, the place looks a little creepy.

Indignados can hold a mean drumbeat!

Stepping out of the Citadel, ran into a giant protest of the "Indignados." This is a huge political movement throughout Spain, also known as the S in PIGS (Portugal, Italy, Greece and Spain), the troubled economies of Europe. As far as I can tell, Indignados are against corruption, against EU and IMF-induced austerity packages and against centralized control. Much as I respect any progressive movement, I can't help but think that when the money spigots were open and credit was flowing to Mallorca through the Spanish real-estate bubble, none of these people were out on the streets complaining. Similar to the Greeks who were living it up and retiring at age 38, I suspect these folks were quite happy with the way the economy was going back then. Now that the money spigots have dried up, they're suddenly indignant about the general direction of the economy. Frankly, I bet there is some corruption in Spain, but probably not any more than in the UK. What would have impressed me more would have been a similar protest when things were actually going well. That takes guts. It signals to the world that the protesters are not driven by personal gain. Anyhow, I'm still in support of the Indignado cause. They had a giant drum circle, contingencies carrying placards came and joined them from all parts of Mallorca, and later, they had a huge parade that ended up closing down most of downtown Palma.

Goldilocks, come out and play!

I could not do justice to the view from Castillo de Bellver

It was then time to go up to the Castillo de Bellver, whose name is exceeded in coolness only by its majestic view of Palma town. This castle also has a tiny moat. It seems like Mallorcans can't get enough of moats. This one was completely wasted, as the castle is so small that if 100 people place a proper siege, the defenders would likely run out of food and be forced to surrender. It was conquered by Dragut in the 1500's, so it was fun to walk around there and imagine the white-crescent-on-yellow flag of Dragut flying on the tower.

A pigeon for every corner

Still no Goldilocks

Went back down to Palma downtown but my favorite restaurant was closed on festivals and Sundays. I've discovered that, for me to like a restaurant, it has to have a pig leg mounted on a Spanish invention I'm calling the "pig-leg-holder-and-shaving-device." I so have to get a pig-leg-holder-and-shaving-device for Guizmo. But it'd have to be small. And I'd have to find cured legs of piglets to fit into my smaller pig-leg-holder-and-shaving-device for my mini, and I don't think they cure legs of suckling piglets. If they did, I'd be sad about the little piglet and have ambivalent feelings as I ate its tasty jamon. Anyhow, no restaurant meant it was time to head back to Pto Pollenca. I took the highway on the moped, had the throttle open max for 50 minutes on the highway, and it was a total head-trip to go at that speed among even faster moving cars in a vehicle with no enclosure. I rode a 750cc motorbike for three years in grad school, but a 125cc moped has all the downsides of a bike with none of the control or speed advantages. I discovered I could countersteer a moped (a motorbike trick where you push the handlebars away from the direction you want to turn and rely on the gyroscopic action of the spinning wheel to tilt you sideways and the rounded wheels to turn you in the direction you want to turn), and control it kind of like a horse (with the seat). But at the end, I was exhausted, my arms were hurt from my turning before I discovered I could countersteer, my butt was aching from pushing the seat through the turns, and oddly, my jaw was hurt, from either the stress of fast cars around me or from consciously keeping it shut so as not to eat any of the million bugs I drove through at high speed.

Anyhow, so, this was my day of "rest."