Wednesday, 21 August 2013

Ninja Tortilla Girl

Holaaaaaa.

Now for the ultimate post about Mallorca...Because that's right, come tomorrow at 12pm, I will be landing in Manchester Terminal 3 and thus bringing a bitter end to the sunshine, beaches, tapas and Sangria of my two-month summer on this wonderful island.

It's so ironic that in my last 48-72 hours here I have had some of the funniest moments (and coldest beers) thus bringing me to the fluctuating conclusion that I'd rather stay another two months until the summer season is well and truly finished. But in spite of this conflicting “should I stay or should I go” syndrome, it's probably best if I leave on a good note (rather than during another Blue Spell).



My last weekend on the sunny shores of Mallorca has been pretty – in the words of my housemate Miriam – amazeballs. It included another epic road trip. Me and four friends rented a car (by the name of 'Manuela Torres' – yes, we named her – like we named Jesús) and drove her round the east side of the island to Porto Cristo (where there are some caves) and Cala Romantica (the beach).

To be honest the caves were fun but a bit overpriced (14 euros to walk around and the 'promised' boat trip through the water in the caves turned out to be a bit of a scam) but I suppose if you go to an island, you can't leave without saying you've at least visited some of the caves.


Felt a bit like Indiana Jones/Aladdin


There was a concert in the caves. That was the best part. The lights were switched off and everything was pitch black and then this eerie music started playing softly and echoing off the walls and three or four long, lit-up boats emerged from the shadows and went around the caves in a circle, disappearing off into the shadows with the eerie music still playing. It was only about 10-15 minutes long but it was the weirdest and most beautiful thing.

(Just to clarify...these aren't actually my photos, I found them online. But it looked like this!)




It reminded me a lot of the scene in the Phantom of the Opera when Christine is taken down into the Phantom's lair and they play the famous theme song...



After the caves (Cuevas del Drach), we stopped off at at supermercado (how I'm going to miss buying bread for 18 cents and mineral water for 25) got ourselves some picnic food and went to a beach not far from Porto Cristo called Cala Romantica.

I guess it was kind of romantic.





Saturday night was a bit epic as well; seeing as we were supposed to go to a beach party in Palma Nova, we had geared ourselves up for fiesta time immediately after our road trip (because Manuela was our car for the whole night until 12pm the following day, so we thought it would be worth making the most of her). However at about 8pm we got a text from our Spanish friend (who had invited us) that apparently the party on the beach was practically non-existent.

So we ended up going to a house party followed by a night out in Palma – long story short, I arrived home at 7am the following day, still unshowered from the beach/road trip, depleted of both energy and money. (Sunday is payday for me).



So after sleeping it off until about 11am (badly, because of the background noise of chickens, dogs and the blinding morning light of Mallorcan sunshine – you either shut the windows and have total darkness but are left to swelter like a pig OR you open the windows and get some breeze but are kept awake by the light and/or the stupid ROOSTERS which crow from 3am onwards) I got out of bed and just chilled out until the afternoon when I went into Palma to hang out with Marlena.

Sundays in Palma are weird because the streets are very, very dead. It's kind of nice though. We went and had a little picnic by the library (which, I didn't realise was the library at first because it looked as if it were about to be shut down for good, graffitied and locked)...



...and then went to our favourite ice-cream parlour which sells ensaimada (I have already posted about ensaimada). All I can say is...QUE RICO.

(Just to refresh your memory)


And of course, there's always room for a little 'Tinto de Verano' (basically Sangria without the fruit). On Sundays it's one euro! (Montaditos our favourite place for drinks).





Last night was Tuesday and therefore the last tapas evening for me (and many of the au pairs). We are dwindling more and more in numbers now, but it was fun nonetheless (and of course, dirt cheap). I took the last bus home (11:20) and then for some reason, could not sleep at all when I settled down to sleep at about 12:30. Tapas is yummy, but the portions are tiny and you get a beer with each one. And you know what beer on an empty stomach does to you?

Makes you more hungry.

So I couldn't sleep at all. Partly because of the humidity (which even now, after 8 weeks, causes problems), partly because of the DAMN PERROS (dogs for those of you not speaking Spanish) and partly because my tummy was growling for some foooooooood! (Proper food, not mincey little tapas-portioned size food).

I knew for a fact that in the fridge there was leftover tortilla from the night before. And I hadn't had proper dinner. I lay awake for a couple hours fantasising about this tortilla, but not being able to work up the courage to sneak downstairs and help myself. The problem is I thought the boy (whose room is next to mine) was awake because we crossed paths on my way to the loo at about 1am and also his light was on.

For some reason, it's ok if your parents/family catch you raiding the fridge at 3am because you don't really have to explain yourself in your own household. But when it's someone else's house, there are definite (unspoken) boundaries about this.

It got to 4am and I was still awake, hungry and roasting in the Mallorcan humidity. I told myself that unless I ate something I was going to stay awake for four more hours fantasising about food. So I crept as QUIETLY as I possibly could out of bed, across the hall, downstairs into the kitchen...

I was like a ninja with the tortilla. I don't think I've ever grabbed anything out of the fridge so quickly. I didn't even rewrap the clingfilm back over the plate, I just took the nearest slice and ran (quietly). 



In hindsight, I shouldn't have been SO het up about taking a little bit of tortilla at 4am (there are probably worse things a host family could find their au pair doing in the dead of night...). But anyway.

Even after eating the damn tortilla I couldn't sleep. I stayed awake hour after hour, trying to sleep (you know what I mean – that cycle of 'if I sleep now I'll get 3 hours...if I sleep now, I'll get 2 hours').

So I stayed awake until 8am, went downstairs made some coffee (actually I tried to make some coffee) and ate some more tortilla. My excuse was I had not slept so it was merely an extension of tapas. The coffee machine refused to work and made so much noise trying to make coffee that I think the neighbours 2km down the road could hear.

So this is what I had to settle for:

Reality


Vs. Dream



I was starting to get into that jittery, sleep-deprived state where you start seeing double unless you sit down and when you sit down you fall asleep – or try to sleep standing up. So I had a cold shower, which seemed to work...

Until I made the stupid decision to just 'have a lie down' on my mattress. In my towel and everything. I just fell asleep straight away. And then I woke two hours later at 11:30am and felt like death. Death whose eyes had been scratched out!

It's true what they say about all-nighters (intentional or otherwise) – you need to go the whole night with no sleep whatsoever because if you get that 1 or 2 hour window of unconsciousness you will wake up feeling ten times worse.

So I did my best that day and drank like 3-4 cups of strong (instant) coffee (the machine refused to work still). That machine has hated me all summer, I swear. Every time I try and make coffee it's actually like taking part in the lottery – there's a CHANCE you'll get a coffee, but don't pin your hopes on it, just keep trying.

But do you know what the crazy thing is? I couldn't sleep TONIGHT EITHER. The exact same thing happened. I was tired, by the way. All evening I couldn't stop yawning and promised myself 'an early night'.

After 12am I couldn't sleep and before you know it it's 4am and my alarm is for 5:30 because I have to be at the airport for 7am and that means we have to leave the house at 6:15. And I have not slept yet.

What. is. Happening!

I guess I'm just going to put it all down to 'the-last-two-days-of-summer-delirium'. I think my week has been so eventful that maybe my body is only now catching up with it all. In a way it doesn't really matter, the moment I get home I can have a long siesta and mess up my sleep pattern anew in time for this bank holiday weekend at home.


But still, Mallorca has been great fun.  

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