Tuesday, 2 December 2008

Mallorcan reflections

I’m sitting on a rock with warm sunshine on my face looking out at turquoise waters lapping gently into the cove. The beach is brilliant white.... and empty. It’s November, and it’s Mallorca. Cala Mondrago to be exact.
The memories wash over me of happy times in my 20’s when I worked on this magical island. Long, lazy days in the sun. Alfa’s discotheque at night. The boat trips. The horse riding. The friends.

I lost my way for a while (seventeen years to be exact) while I travelled the world and then settled down to have a family.

But of all the places I have seen in the world, and there have been many, in my heart of hearts, Mallorca has always been the one for me.

During my long absence, she called to me many times but there were always good reasons for postponing the trip.

And then one day, two years ago, I finally boarded the plane that was to bring Mallorca back into my life forever.

I touched down on the runway in Palma and felt an inexplicable happiness and sense of pure joy rush through every muscle, every fibre of my body. I had finally come home. I opened my mouth and a flood of spanish and mallorquin came out. My brain kicked into gear and I was thinking, living, breathing the language.

I met my friends again after seventeen years. They looked exactly the same (if a little older). They sounded the same. I looked into their eyes and I was catapulted back in time. The passing years were not important.

In the past two years I have been back to Mallorca six times.

My life is in Scotland. I am Scottish, I’m proud to be Scottish and I love Scotland. The sound of bagpipes brings a tear to my eye and a lump to my throat.

But a part of my heart has been lost forever to that little island in the Med where for me time stands still and we are all still 20 years old.
Dedicado a Toni, Toni y Monserrat.

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