Palma Diary, Jan 2017 – An Englishman abroad

Day 6 – Thursday

I carefully pack my suitcase and am justly proud of how neat it looks (it isn’t really my forte) and then after a final check in the wardrobe and the drawers of the dressing table, I pick it up off the bed and hurl the contents around the room. I had neglected to zip up the lid.

I have virtually all day today, as I don’t fly until 8pm, but I don’t want to stray too far. I go to visit one of my favourite spots, Jardi del Bisbe, a small walled garden with a fishpond, just behind the cathedral. It’s nicer in summer when the bougainvilleas are in flower, but it’s still worth a visit.

I’ve always ignored the museum at the Almudaina or Royal Palace, as a tourist attraction, but in the interests of research, I decide to have a look around. It’s actually well worthwhile; it has many old paintings, tapestries and furnishings, and magnificent views.

You can take the man out of Yorkshire, but…….I don’t want to draw any more cash from the bank, so I head out of the tourist zone to look for a – let’s not use the “c” word – reasonably-priced Menu del Dia. I look around for a while without being tempted and then I decide to have a look at Bar Potateo, where I had the really good meal the other day. When I see the menu, I have to go in and, once inside, it’s like Groundhog Day. I sit at the same table and there are the same people, sitting in the same places. Of course, it’s because it attracts stallholders from the market. If I worked nearby, I’d be in every day, though I don’t think I’d get much done in the afternoon!

I start with Canalones. People are often surprised to see pasta on Spanish menus, but historically, Catalonia and the Balearics had a thriving trade with Genoa. My second course is Callos con Garbanzos, tripe with chickpeas, and I finish with Pudding (again!) for pudding. As before, all the food is delicious, the service friendly and such good value for money.

After picking up my suitcase from the hostal and bidding goodbye to Sebastián, I walk the short distance to Passeig de Mallorca and get on the airport bus. I arrive unnecessarily early, but it’s better than being last-minute with the associated stress. Never mind; I can relax with a litre of Warsteiner whilst I wait. I’d booked what I thought was a window seat, but it turns out to be one of the very few rows which don’t actually have a window. The compensation is that I have the row to myself, so I can stretch out as we head for home and the English weather.

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