Arriving from Ibiza, we remained tropical and Spanish at the same time. We also hung on to the habit of being on the wrong side of an Island. The problem this time was that Ibiza was a hell of a lot smaller than Palma de Mallorca. So… functional door hinges.
We get off the boat and find the bus that Shephali tells us we need to take. I had no idea where the hostel was, but she said we just had to take the bus to the end and we would be right there. Simple, right? Yes, except when you go to the wrong end and get off as the bus service is ending for the night… ummm…. yeah. Not happy. It turns out that Shafoofoo had actually taken the wrong bus from the airport, gotten lost, swept off her feet by another pirate, and eventually found her way in the right direction and to the hostel. The problem was that the love of her life ended up distracting her enough so that the only thing that she did remember was taking the bus to one end and being at the hostel. She left out the part of the memory involving getting off, changing busses, and traveling for 45 minutes. So, we get off the bus, still thinking she is right around the corner, and start walking. I talk to her on the phone, she asks us to go to the beach and we do. No Shephali, and mostly just water, no beach. Seems odd. I comment on how I see a lot of boats. She comments on how there is not a boat in the water. I comment on how this doesn’t sound good. She comments on the return of her memory. I comment on how I want to kill her. We are now on the side of a major road, nowhere near where we started or where we want to be. Both would have been better than the current.
So, we’re walking, and walking, and we really have no idea how far away this place might be. Eventually I say fuck it and hailed the only taxi on the road. I was no longer willing to walk. I hadn’t slept the night before. I was grouchy, real grouchy. So we get in the car, tell her the bus stop we are looking for, and start driving. Then, I become surprised. We are on a highway, driving fast and for at least 10 minutes. I get worried and repeat the name of the stop fearing that my Spanish was not clear. Nope, it was. We eventually arrive in the next town over, what would have been a two hour walk easily, and find Shephali. My anger is in the open, but I find forgiveness after seeing those beautiful brown puppy dog eyes, aww. The thought of a bed kept me going for the remaining 5 minutes. I took my clothes off (which had been on for roughly 50 hours) and fell onto my surprisingly not bed-like bed. Whatever, I’m out.
“I could really for some shacoffee and shamuffins. Oh, and what I wouldn’t give for a Shaphilly Cheesesteak!”
We wake up to a complimentary breakfast, crucial part of my happiness. We get a tad bit of internet time and then I head to the beach for some alone time as the sun takes its place in the sky. I had been wound up a little bit and worn down a lot. I needed that time to set myself into neutral, let the batteries recharge as I soak up the sun, and prepare for the rest of the journey. Couldn’t let myself burn out after just 3 nights! Shall we begin the day?
Well, what do you guys wanna do? There’s a bar right there, frozen drinks with little umbrellas? That would be wonderful! After picking up a pair of sunglasses so cheap that they didn’t last the first day, we found an open air bar and decided to pull back the throttle and kick into chill mode. After the drinks arrived, we passed around the table and I concluded that mine was the best, as usual… Moving on we decided to walk down the boardwalk and look out onto the beach. Good decision? Well, there were no police officers this time, but there was something even more threatening to my well being: saggy old German tourists taking advantage of the nude beach policy. Christ… Quickly crossing back over the street and away from the hairy jiggles, we hopped on a bus and headed towards downtown. Bus ride with the homeless!
I’m starving! Let’s get some coffee and then get some Tapas! We take the bus to midtown and start walking towards the main square, had a Spanish name I don’t remember. Had a great little coffee, listened to music that sounded more French than Spanish, and then made another move. What we found as a back alley tapas restaurant with relatively easy going prices. Explaining the concept of Tapas to Cory earlier in the day, he was absolutely amazed by the idea and had it in his mind that he would absolutely settle for nothing else. Once enjoying the meal, he changed from asking if we could get snacks to asking if we could find a tapas restaurant. Haha… he was a little kid and just found a new candy store.
So, we are leaving tonight… what can we do? Video journal… BEGIN!
As you can see, we had an interesting and relatively relaxing day while still seeing some pretty cool stuff. Obviously we did not pay to enter the church, or palace, or whatever it was, but instead enjoyed the breeze and the music perched up on a wall. Upon leaving, I left my bottle of vodka to the guitarist knowing that it would not be allowed on the plane I was running to catch. I had regained my sanity with the arrival of Shephali and was now ready to conquer the rest of (frozen) Europe.
Life is grand, my man.
Peace in Love from Palma,
Scotty
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