La multa

It had been a dreamy Sunday. The sun had reappeared after a few weeks of stormy and unpredictable weather. There were but a few wispy clouds in the sky as we headed for Puig de Maria, an old monastery on the top of a very big hill. The views at the summit were apparently stunning, and after the tough hours walk we all confirmed that they were. The vista across to the Tramuntana was tempting, luring us for winter hiking and discoveries. The towns below had shrunk to Playmobil size and the blue of the coast as inviting as ever. It really was a breathtaking walk.

We were all feeling so happy, so content with life, so exercised, so healthy and looking forward to our meal in Pollenca as we descended the hill.  Only to be greeted with a parking fine, to be fair we had parked on a grassy kerb but so had everyone else - yes, they all received a fine as well.

Darn. 80 flipping euros up the spout. Upon looking at the fine it seems there was an option to pay 40 euros, I guess if we paid it quickily. Our Spanish could not work out how and when to pay so I asked a lady in a shop.

She shrugged her shoulders, I don't know she said, after reading all the 'terms and conditions' of the fine. I will call my friend she said, and then proceeded to write a telephone number of the hacienda for us. Maybe they will help you she said.

A Spanish person couldn't work out how to pay the 40 euro option, so we had lunch and thought about our dilemma.

"Oh you have una multa!" the waiter laughed at us, in perfect clipped English.

I explained our predicament. He read the back of the fine and couldn't tell us how to pay it either.

"Go to the police station after your lunch - you can pay it there, I don't know if it is 80 euros or 40 euros!" he shrugged again.

"I had a fine last week, in Palma, much more money than yours for the drinking and the driving you know?!" he grinned and gestured the international sign for drinking booze with his thumb and little finger.

"But I pay it the next day, 50% less, at the police station, " he explained.

Only in Mallorca.

Timmy

The doors are left open in the evenings, it still being warm enough for air to flow around the house. At 8.32pm last night in walks a kitten, just like that, all brazen and purposeful looking for some food and comfort.

"Muuuuuuuum, there's a kitten in the house!" shouted the girls.

"I thought Lupin had shrunk!" squealed A, Lupin being one of the Fattie Catties we flew to Mallorca from the UK.

And as I took a break from the cleaning and the organising, there he was in P's arms, apparently called Timmy in the 3 minutes he had entered our house. What a beautiful, if a little smelly, kitten he was.

We fed him some of the cat food our pompous kitties turned their noses up at and he gobbled it with the speed of a cat that hasn't eaten for a long time. He was so desperate to come in for cuddles and a play but the matriarchs hissed and spat at him through the windows. I had a feeling he might still be around in the morning.

As I wandered over to the horses, whinnying me their glorious greeting at 7am, along Timmy trots - as pleased as pleased can be. His little tail was vertical in the air and he purred as he ran to say Hello, warm from a night in the straw. So we fed him again.

            

Looks like we have 2 horses, 2 fattie catties, 1 stray cat, 1 parrot and 1 kitten and counting...

Escaped

She felt very close as she clip-clopped past my window. Our sleepy brains couldn't quite fathom where she was, if she was indeed even there.

I leapt out of bed at 5.25 am to find Kira wondering around the garden with glee. Her hulk seemed enormous as I padded out into the night in bare feet and pyjamas. Having eaten her garba, trashed the newly mowed and manicured lawn, filled her tummy to bursting and avoided falling in the swimming pool - I would say my horse had had a thoroughly good party-for-one.

Reluctantly she followed me back to her stable, pretty high on calories and wanting to play.

It's still the middle of the night I hushed to her, as I would a toddler who had wondered out of their cot bed, go back to sleep. But of course that was me wide awake for the day - Googling the crap out of "What to do if your horse eats too much...."

Houdini pony 

Paradise crumbles

It's October tomorrow. The blistering days of the summer idyll are a distant memory as September came and went in a tumultuous fashion.

The weather changed, tormentas loud and crashing roared angrily in all corners of the island, sending the tourists running to the city to spend their money instead of crisping their skin. The rivers created after a build up of weeks and weeks, rushed through the land in great torrents. Anoraks and sandbags were needed. Well, maybe not sandbags but it was close.

Hours are spent in the car driving the girls to school. Mummy's language is allowed to be as blue as it likes from 7.45 am -9 am, and the same on the way home. We roar with laughter at the filth that comes out of my mouth and delight in shouting all the Spanish swear words we know as well. The radio helps, no censoring of the summer tunes here, the F-bomb being regularly dropped much to my kids delight. I kinda love it as well. But I drive with all my might and concentration as the amount of accidents is disturbing, pulling out in front of you and nipping in before you is a public sport. Gilipollas.

The car passed its ITV (MOT) after tension and troubles. I have never been so pleased to place that goddamn little yellow sticker on my window and forget about it for another year. You have to be prepared to look stupid in another language. That I did. But I learnt, and next time will know what to do and the words for hazard lights, brakes and reverse lights.

And the horse fell over after hooly-ing around. And the Internet broke. And we had visitors for week which was glorious and hectic. And the cat puked on the freshly laundered duvet. And. And. And.

But today is heavenly. Paradise restored. Normality regained until the next time. A moments peace with only the parrot chirruping away and the cat snoring on my lap. The horses are fed and exercised, the house as clean as I can be bothered with, the children happy and learning. And breathe.

Autumn sun in winter coats

10 lessons in 10 weeks

1. Mallorca is a hot place. Really hot. No I mean absolutely stinkingly, searingly hot.

2. There is no use for the inside lane on a roundabout in Mallorca. If you use the inside lane there is a chance you may be on it forever as everyone else is in the outside lane - even if they are turning left. I am now an outside-lane driver too.

3. Google maps and google translate are rarely correct. It does not take 35 minutes to get to Magaluf. At 8 o'clock in the morning it takes 1 hour and 10 minutes. I now have a 1 hour and 45 minute school run - twice a day.

4. They say the beaches in Mallorca are better than the Caribbean - we have yet to test that theory as I have never seen so many tourists in my life. Not one inch of sand or one droplet of sea was spare this summer.

5. It is very hard not to drink alcohol to celebrate the sun going down. Or a good barbeque. Or because it is the weekend, or a week night. Beer tastes better in the sun and we are surrounded by vineyards.

6. Palma is the prettiest, cleanest, smartest and most manageable city I have come across - we are looking forward to getting to know it better.

7. Avocados, limes, lemons, almonds and olives all grow in Mallorca - and in my garden.

8. Administration in Mallorca is one confusing nightmare. I have the Spanish version of the MOT next week, I have no idea what to do and which papers to take.

9. Bread lasts one day. If you cut it up it lasts half an hour before it stales. Best eaten fresh and quick.

10. Life is life wherever you are. It follows you around, it's boring and mundane in parts, stressful and sad at other times. But one thing is certain - it is a nicer experience in the sun, with a little tapas, some friends and a beer. Mallorca is a very nice place indeed, I hope we stay for a very long time.

New school

I am ALONE! For the first time in 9 weeks.

The girls went to school today and I forgot to take a picture, I don't know why. Maybe I was worried we would be late, or that it felt like a normal day at school - except this was their first day at their new school in Mallorca. An International school at that.

The school playground was full of tans, multiple languages, excitement and uncertainty. Their shoes were shiny, the hair short and neat and their uniforms unbelievably new and straight from the packet. The heat was starting to get intense already at 9 am as I waved goodbye, and they filed one-by-one into their new school lives. I felt proud, excited and alone. For these two wonderful little people had been attached to my side all summer, as we discovered the island and its ways - together.

On the drive home I reflected how far we have come since moving here. How settled we all feel. How much we all love it.

And once out of the maze of Palma motorways, I used the time to listen to Radio Mallorca and tried to decipher the chatter. It all feels so normal, so home, so right. Especially as I turned on to the country road to our house, hearing the sound of the sheep bells and waving to the shepherd - I knew I had a little while to wait until I got home.

New school haircut - it didn't look quite like this, this morning

Arta

We feel we should be exploring the island more, getting out and discovering the National Parks, beaches and exquisite little villages. But it is still 35 degrees, everyday from 10am until 6pm. 

Today we forced ourselves away from the air conditioning and drove through immaculate countryside dotted with olive, carob and almond trees, to the sleepy town of Arta. I say it is sleepy because by the time we arrived only the tourists were awake, the pretty shutters of the town were firmly shut with only the wafts of garlic and something fishy seeping through the windows.

After wandering around Santuario de Sant Salvador, and spending a little longer than usual in the dark and imposing church - we found some lunch and litres of chilled water.