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| Hostal Katia, Paguera |
When I was 9, and living in Holyhead, we went on our first holiday outside of Wales. We got up at 4am to go to the airport, to fly to Majorca - only a few hours away, but to an excited 9 year old, we were headed to the most exotic place in the whole world! I remember the smell of the airport, and the plane, the stewardesses being so welcoming as we boarded; I remember being fascinated with the super thick windows and the little shutters on them; the lurch of my stomach when the plane took off, and the exhilaration of looking outside and seeing that we were really flying!! Oh, that breathtaking moment flying over France and into Spanish airspace and seeing the Great Pyrenees from the sky; telling Mum to look at them, and her feeling so sick and scared, she didn't want to.
The taxi ride from Palma airport, to our hotel in Paguera was downright scary, I thought the driver was insane, but it turns out that most people on the island drive the same way! Thankfully, for the rest of the holiday, we walked everywhere, with the exception of a couple of bus rides. I can still close my eyes, breathe in, and smell the lobby of the hotel. The tiled floors, paired with the summer heat, added to the variety of scents from outside - the sugar refinery up the road, the ocean, the spanish food - made the most wonderful aroma!
We spent our days mostly at the beach - swimming, playing frisbee on the sand, exploring the rocks, walking up and down the beach, renting a pedalo and pedaling out around the rocks (where the water was as deep as could be, but you could still see the bottom). There was a restaurant on the beach, right behind us, so we would eat there, never having to leave the beach. I remember the smell of Amber Solaire tanning oil (my dad), the fruit sellers walking up and down the beach, shouting "Melon, melon, pineapple!!" The melon man had one regular arm and one arm only to the elbow joint, but he could still flip that melon in the air and cut it into pieces for you. For some reason, we found his wailing hilarious and still joke about the melon man.
Later in the day, we would go back to the hotel and take turns showering and rubbing aloe vera on each other to cool the sunburn. While Mum and my sister got ready, I would sit and peel the burned skin off my dad's back (gross). Our late afternoons were spent wandering the streets of Paguera, finding new restaurants, sitting outside in the warmth while we ate, playing mini golf, and looking in gift shops. I still have things I bought there during those explorations - a necklace of love beads, a clay donkey, a wooden ring, and a little plate with "Majorca" on it. Funny the little trinkets you hold onto. I remember the first nights ever spent in Majorca - with the balcony doors open, the heat so unbearable that we couldn't sleep, listening to the mopeds riding up and down the main street, the voices shouting in Spanish and English, people having fun, and the smells wafting up from the street below. I never wanted it to end.
I had my first major crush in Majorca. I think the third or fourth year we went. I was 13 maybe. His name was Pepe, he was a bartender at the hotel, and he served me my chocolat caliente with a beautiful Spanish accent and a smile. I learned to say "swimming" in Spanish so that I could invite him swimming with us, where he would fall in love with me and be mine forever, speaking to me ever after with that romantic accent. Of course it never happened, but even the memories of those childish dreams make me smile still, and I can still picture Pepe behind the bar.
All these memories are so good, and so cherished. Time has passed, things have changed - a lot - but no matter what, those memories will always be good, those times will always be some of the best days of my life. <3
