By the daylight, I was less than enthused to enter yet another church in Europe, but this was Palma’s big cheese, the Catedral de Mallorca. Perched in the old town of the city, capturing this massive house of worship proved to be the biggest challenge. Wedged like a puzzle piece in Palma, I tussled with my camera and my subject, but I could never get the enormous structure in one photograph. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be like every church in Europe. Catedral de Mallorca proved to be special beginning with its exterior for it was far too grand for the frame of one photograph. 

Catedral de Mallorca was originally a mosque of Medina Mayurka, the capital of Muslim Mallorca for three centuries. King Jaume I would roll up onto the island and change the faiths of locals. For their new beliefs, they would need a cathedral, one that would become one of the largest in Europe. And so stone by stone, they built the cathedral from 1300 to 1601. While three centuries seems like a long time for construction, this is the sort of cathedral that required such time. Any day less and it won’t be grippingly Gothic and overpoweringly enormous. I gaze up at its walls towering before me, more reminiscent of a fortress than a place to pray. Gargoyles stare me down in only the way that a gargoyle can. 

My feet continue to ache as my eyelids start to droop. I fight every ounce of my fatigue to see something in this church that makes it unique, elements that are only in this sacred space. The churches of Europe tend to grow predictable and redundant, but not in Palma de Mallorca. This structure enjoying a holiday by the Mediterranean has the best seat in the house for changing the attitudes of the jaded traveler. 

I am met by soaring high cross vaults, massive pillars and the bright colors of stained glass. The Mediterranean sun doesn’t stay outside the cathedral. The light carries through 61 stained glass windows including five rose windows. Splashes of blues, pinks, purples and oranges decorate the cathedral. 

However something isn’t quite right about this picture. A massive piece juts out of the pulpit. It doesn’t make sense to me, nor does it fit into the otherwise Gothic interior. I suspect Antoni Gaudi might be behind this one.

My guide quickly confirms my suspicions. Antoni Gaudi worked on the Cathedral from 1904 to 1914 as part of a restoration program. He would add his flair for the unusual and dreamlike by opening up covered windows, adding new stained glass and adorning a pulpit with something I can’t quite define. This isn’t even his strangest piece. To the right, I find what looks like a baby’s mobile gone horrible dark and religious. The Canopy hovers above the church’s main altar like a dancing mobile. It crowns with a sculpture of Christ crucified with 35 lamps hanging from it. Suddenly I realize this is not your average church in Europe. Gaudi was here and the strange is ever present.

And just like a marriage, it doesn’t end at the altar. I continue to the Chapel of the Holy Sacrament. Mallorcan artist Miquel Barceló has added his touch for the unconventional within the cathedral. In 2007, he unveiled this ceramic mural comprised of 15 tons. It tells of the miracle of the loaves and the fishes.

The parish wanted a contemporary creation and they received one. Fish and marine creatures seemingly pop out from the walls. The windows above are colored to look like water. And just for a long minute, I’m not sure if I’m under the sea or in Palma’s Gothic masterpiece. 

Argentinean writer Jorge Luis Borges said of the Catedral de Mallorca, “The Cathedral is an airplane made of stone that fights to break the thousand moorings that imprison it. The Cathedral sounds like applauses or like a kiss.” In many respects, Palma’s cathedral is a means of transport, one you commend but also embrace. It takes you somewhere you thought you had been before and quickly jerks the rider in a different direction to somewhere that you didn’t know existed. It’s not just another church in Europe. It is the Catedral of Mallorca where worlds collide somewhere over a hanging mobile. 

Have you been to the Catedral de Mallorca or a church in Europe that surprised you with its contents?

This post was sponsored by Destinia.

Wine tastings often take you through the winery, vineyards and onto a tasting room, where you learn just what you should taste and why. The Son Ramon vineyard however doesn’t produce wine in the ordinary manner. Set up on an estate with vineyards from 1760, a glass comes with the uncanny ability to transport the sipper to another time. 

The estate used to cover 37 hectares with an old Mallorcan cellar. Today, just 10 hectares of vines make up the vineyard and a new winery has taken the place of the old. We wander inside the estate, complete with its own chapel, as it was several hundred years ago. There is a force driving the production of great wine and it doesn’t hurt to have a little heavenly intervention nearby. 

We head upstairs, past grand portraits and rooms that could be found in a grandmother’s house. The air is musty, showing the ultimate signs of age.

The family Ramis-Fornés started a new project with winemaker Joseph Lluis Perex in 2005. They took a vineyard that once produced great wines and gave it a new life. Rather than turning the estate into a boutique hotel, it remains as it was, hanging pots, pans, Jesus portraiture and all.

More like a museum of 18^th century Mallorcan estate life, the “finca” as it is in Spanish suggests it is the main attraction, and yet we haven’t even tasted the wine yet. We sample a chardonnay, rosé, a chardonnay blanc and a Cabernet-Syrah mix. 

Pliny the Elder in his Natural History work said Mallorca’s wine was comparable to Italy’s best bottles. However, the Mallorcan wine trade would fall on hard times. There is always some sort of pest that can ruin the vine, whether it is the actually insect nuances of the phylloxera in the 19^th century or several world wars. The battle for a good bottle is always the same. The Son Ramon estate and vineyard might be rebuilding on a 1760 idea, but you can’t taste or see that anything has changed since that time, besides of course the shiny new wine cellar.

Over the last 20 years, Mallorca has given its old talent a try again. Now rebuilding and producing delicious bottles, most vineyards and cellars set up in the center of the island or on its eastern edge.

I let the Cabernet-Syrah red settle on my tongue. I’m told what I should taste and smell, but I can only taste one thing, time. It might be just a few years old. The first vintage from the vineyard wasn’t produced until 2007. However it is the musty smell of haphazard antiques, the wooden casks of old and an atmosphere not just for wine consumption, but time travel as well.

I don’t claim to know much about wine besides what I like and don’t like. I do know that the best bottles are those with a hint of history, a suggestion of wildness and in the end, ultimate triumph. The only thing impeding my time travel is myself. I could be back centuries past at Son Ramon and perhaps I was. The recreation is always kind to the imagination, by the reality proves far more rewarding for travelers in search of a different time. 

Have you been wine tasting in Mallorca?

Alcúdia sits in northeastern Mallorca. While the historic center is the main attraction, I begin by exploring its waters at the port. The area affords over 30 kilometers of coastline, littered in sun-seekers, sands and holiday homes. It is possible to cruise the Badia d’Alcúdia, but not entirely today.

We pass by the Illa d’Alcanada, a lighthouse keeping watch on the cliffs. The seas begin to break and suddenly I wonder if this is the best idea. Trapped on a boat loaded with Brits and Germans looking for tans, this is not the way I want to go. The cool captain announces the waters aren’t cooperating to round the bay, but it’s not all a loss. The boat stops to allow for a couple of passengers to slide out the back and swim. With a lack of towel, I just spectate. You often see Mallorcan waters a shade of turquoise that looks so software aided. However these waters can’t be created.

Our guide María is forever casual. We disembark and stroll the port on our way to the old town of Alcúdia. She runs into her nephew and his dog, just in time for a neck scratching it seems. You feel family in Alcúdia. You sense these casual, comfortable and compelling exchanges, where life seems to slow for everything.

María continues the tour to Alcúdia where we stroll the streets of the old town. Due to Alcúdia’s position, it has long attracted different civilizations. Remains of the Roman city of Polléntia rest just south of the historic quarter as proof. The medieval city still keeps up its guard with walls surrounding the old town streets. King James II designed the walls as a defense system back in the 14^th century.

I pass through the Porta de Mallorca, one of the city’s former gates. It connected Alcúdia with the Ciutat de Mallorca highway. Complete with two towers and an arched doorway, Alcúdia’s entrance is as it should be, grand.

The relaxed attitude to Alcúdia continues up Carrer Major. I pop in for a coffee and a pastry along the way, one of the cheapest and best cups I had on the island.

María tells me she knows it is our last day and merely wants the group to saunter. She is not sputtering off history lessons, but rather showing us her Alcúdia. Life moves slowly, so much so that there is always time to stop for a coffee or to purchase the traditional footwear of the Balearic Islands, Avarques.

Sadly the whole word isn’t on Alcúdia time. We must head back to lunch at the port, but not before marveling at the Church of Sant Jaume. Fortress-like, the façade bears a sculpture of the saint, a large rose window and the Alcúdia coat of arms. Forming part of the city walls, the church is both imposing, a little threatening and beautiful at the same time.

You always save the best for last in Alcúdia and today that is lunch back at Port d’Alcúdia. Founded in 1871, I have a suspicion not much has changed at Restaurant Miramar when dining on the terrace along the promenade. With Mediterranean tranquility at its best, we begin with tapas of croquetas and calamari.

I reason that if you can see the water from where you are dining, the fish must be fresh. I order the house specialty of Sol fish with the Miramar preparation. With every sip of white wine, it seems someone is there to fill it up again. Lunch prolongs and no one checks the time.

A good meal is not a good meal without something sweet. We sample the desserts of Miramar, from chocolate covered ice cream to tiramisu. It feels so gluttonous, a day spent bobbing around on teal seas, strolling without worry through medieval streets and feasting on several courses for lunch. However it is just the way of life in Alcúdia where time is not of the essence and life just goes. Schedules and plans don’t exist, except those that include dessert.

Have you been to Alcúdia?

This trip was sponsored by airberlin and Alcúdia Mallorca.

My first stop is the Sant Bartomeu Parish Church. Built in several stages throughout time, the current church is a mix of baroque and Art Nouveau styles. The façade suggests a Gaudi influence. Joan Rubió I Bellver, a student of Gaudí, designed it in 1904. Sóller’s patron saint has watched over the church and town through good times and bad. The town’s main source of revenue grew out of the agriculture of olive and fruit trees, specifically citrus trees. The booming economy of the 19^th century was quickly humbled in 1865 when a plague attacked the orange trees in the valley. Many would leave Sóller as a result, but the Sant Bartomeu Church has always remained.

Sóller prefers an Art Nouveau style to its architecture. I stumble upon several structures and homes as evidence of that fact, but the most impressive is easily Can Prunera. The Home was built between 1909 and 1911 in the Modern Style of Mallorca. From the inside and out, Can Prunera harks on Art Nouveau elements with wrought iron detailing and original furniture.

Today, Can Prunera serves as a museum to the Modern Style with restored rooms. The colorful tiles catch my attention in each room. You realize you don’t need carpets in Sóller. You merely need intricate and eye catching tiles on the floors of each room in the home, telling a story of design and pattern. A small permanent exhibition of the great masters of the 19^th and 20^th centuries such as Picasso, Klee and Miró can be found scattered about the home.

I wander a little deeper into Sóller and catch the moon taking a siesta. The Casa de la Lluna house is one of the city’s testaments to time. Hailing from the 15^th century, it is a small sample of popular Mallorcan architecture. The façade features the half relief of the face of the waxing moon. The face of the moon might be suggesting a siesta is imminent.

Mallorcan boats bob in the port, creating a hypnotic trance. And while the tourists have found Sóller, the town remains in a strange state of isolation. Like dropping into a place for a short time and leaving it, Sóller disappears from my radar just as quickly as she entered it. My only chance of staying in touch comes by way of the sea and perhaps through a refreshing glass of orange juice, the fruit of Sóller’s lands. 

This trip to Sóller was sponsored by airberlin, VisitSóller and VisitMallorca for One Travel.

Have you been to Sóller?

I arrive at Placa de l’Estació in Plaza de España in Palma de Mallorca. I cross through the little station on my way to the one and only platform for the Ferrocarril De Sóller. Wooden cars greet me, resembling nothing like a regular old train. Transportation has taken a turn for the ugly, imploring more practical methods of construction and makeup than the train I board today. 

This route remains something of a constant on the island. The old wooden line has linked Palma and Sóller since 1912. Back in those days, its sole purpose was not for the eye candy of tourists but to transport goods and merchandise over the Serra de Alfábia mountain range in northern Mallorca.

I step inside one of the wooden cars and seemingly cross into a different time. Little etchings of castles and island landscapes hang on the front of the car. The light fixtures don’t utilize fluorescent bulbs but a soft yellow light, best appreciated when going through one of the 13 tunnels along the route. The longest of those tunnels is appropriately deemed Tunnel Major. At 3.7 kilometers long, it took three years to carve out its passage back in 1907.

Suddenly the train slows to a crawl, and with good reason. We have reached Mirador Pujol de’ n Banya, a lookout point over the Sóller Valley. You can spot the Sóller cathedral and its little streets cascading through the valley. The mountains and orange trees step aside for the creamy, almost peach colors of Sóller.

After arriving in Sóller and exploring the town for a time, I head back on board to continue my journey down to the Port de Sóller. This route is a little bit different from the Palma-Sóller stretch. The old wooden railway represents the first electrical tram on the island. Opened in 1913, the route travels 4.9 kilometers until it blows you away with a dramatic look at the port. 

Families, couples and individuals soak up the sun and perfectly colored water as I pass on by. I could almost dive in from the tram’s window, but I resist. While islanders would never take such a route, one that takes time and patience, I understand in some respects why. These scenes of turquoise waters, peachy town overlooks, orange groves perfuming the air and mountain scenery are all merely a part of everyday life in Mallorca. When you see such beauty every day, you don’t need a slow way of transport to point it out to you. The back and forth sounds of the wooden Ferrocarril De Sóller haunt me as I take a route less traveled by locals, forever engulfed in the magic of traveling by train in Mallorca a little differently.

This trip on the train to Sóller was sponsored by airberlin, VisitSoller and VisitMallorca for One Travel.

While I have been to Stockholm before, I’m excited to experience Berlin and Mallorca, two new destinations for me. In Berlin we will be biking, gallery hopping and touring some of the city’s neighborhoods. After a few days, we will then head to Stockholm for my second look at the Vasa Museum and a little boating around the archipelago. Finally, we will head to Mallorca for a bit of sun, but not too much for this redhead. Somebody pinch me.

Berlin

 Two visits to Germany in one-year makes me feel a bit spoiled. With my love for schnitzel, I will no doubt be consuming as much German cuisine as I can in a short few days. Perhaps it is my German roots, but I have always enjoyed my travels in the country. There is just something so sing-song about when a German says “Morgen!” that gets me going in the morning.  If you have any Berlin tips or suggestions for me, I would love to hear them. I have a bit of free time on the schedule to spend with Germany’s capital.

Stockholm

I remember being utterly blown away by Stockholm. The Swedish Princess had just married her prince of a trainer and the city was still recovering. It was so beautiful and warm in June. By the looks of the weather forecast, Stockholm might pour rain on this visit, but I have a feeling I won’t mind either way. Again, if you know Stockholm like the back of your hand, I welcome any suggestion you may have for me.

Mallorca

The trip will end with a bang on Mallorca. The Balearic Island in the Mediterranean Sea looks like a vision. I have only sampled a few slices of Spain in Barcelona and Valencia so I am looking forward to getting out on an island in the Mediterranean. We all know how much I love those with my proven affinities for Sardinia and Sicily.

The glamor of the European getaway doesn’t come without a few things I’m dreading. In a few hours I will board a flight from Denver to JFK and land around 7AM. I have the pleasure of sitting in a middle seat the whole way so you can imagine the possibilities of trying to sleep. Like all travels, our adventures are laced with long travel days. We suffer through them in order to reach the final product. After a full day spent enjoying JFK, I will finally be on my way to Berlin by evening. Until then, Auf Wiedersehen!

Have you been to Berlin, Stockholm and/or Mallorca?

Spain can be all things to all people, yet for me it’s simply home. My part of it, the western region of Extremadura, I like to think of as slightly different to all the rest. There aren’t any glorious sun-kissed beaches here, no shining bastions of concrete modernism either. No, this part of Spain, unlike all the others, combines quaint Roman ruin-filled towns with slow-moving, dusty, villages. The lazy pace of life of its settlements, dictated by siestas, Sunday church services and slivers of that Spanish delicacy jamon, might even swallow you whole if you let it.

I certainly have to fight hard against the current. From my base in the provincial capital of Cáceres I spend my days ambling around it’s gorgeous old city, taking in its long and rich history and dreaming of the past. It’s perfectly preserved buildings, some which date back to the 13^th century, tell of the continued re-sculpting, remolding and renovation that comes through the passage of time and the moving of hands through the Romans, to the Moors and to the Visigoths. Every so often I have to stop and remember the existence of the modern part of the town beyond.

But step outside of Cáceres and further into the Extremaduran hills and you’ll discover much of the same. Passing north over its mountains and never ending canvas of olive orchards, you’ll reach other ancient Roman cities ransacked by the Moors after them. The most unmissable? Mérida, present day capital of this autonomous region of Spain and home to glorious monuments of a bygone age.

Here in Mérida lay a number of paths and attractions ready and open for dare-to-dream travellers making bold explorations on foot. Inviting its visitors to stroll the old paths of its cobbled city, weaving in and out of its alleys and beyond, one can’t help but be transported back to that time of conquest when the veteran soldiers of Legiones V Alaudae first rode into the city and claimed it for Emérita Augusta in 25 B.C.

The undoubted highlight of a day wandering in Mérida? A peek inside the city’s pristinely preserved Roman theater, a grand relic to it’s glorious past, built to the wishes of Marco Agripa, emperor Octavio Augusto’s son-in-law, around the time of 15 BC. If you head to the city during the months of July and August you can even catch the annual classical theater festival and revel, much like the Romans did, in the majesty of this ancient site.

If you venture back down south you’ll also happen upon the Extremaduran pearl of Trujillo, home of the great conquistador brothers Pizarro whose statue can be spotted in the city’s ethereal Plaza Mayor. Smaller than both Mérida and Cáceres the charms of Trujillo are no less inviting. This city breathes to life through its series of beautiful palaces (the Marquis of the Conquest its jewel) and monuments like the Alcazaba, church of Santiago and the church of San Francisco.

Creative Commons (Nigels Europe)

Extremadura is a place of unique beauty and spirit and although it’s often overlooked for other parts of Spain I’m glad to call it home. Who needs those beaches or art-filled cities when all this is right on ones doorstep? Wish you were here?

Rising from the subway, I was put off but the snaking line to get in to see La Sagrada Familia. After pondering whether to go inside, I did for I didn’t know if I would ever return. Twelve euros later, I am inside a construction that is still not finished, something that began in 1882 and carries on today. Construction workers busy themselves behind the barricades as tourists snap shots of the finished pieces. However those overturned buckets and tools mesmerize me. The quality of being unfinished makes La Sagrada Familia special.

I dip back down into the subway station to discover more of the reasons for which this city is only loved, never hated. I head to La Boqueria Market, one of the world’s great produce markets. More of a cultural experience than a shopping opportunity for me, I find rows of highlighter-colored fruit juices, far too tempting to pass up.

With drink in hand, I stumble upon the Parc de la Ciutadella. By far my favorite point in the city, the park presents park bench after park bench to sit and watch Barcelona go by.

The area was originally a fort, reworked throughout the 19^th century to create a space right in the heart of the city you just want to linger in a little longer. Within the park is Cascada, a dramatic fountain inspired by Rome’s Trevi. With the help of Gaudi, Josep Fontsére came up with this design.

Seeing the Cascada fountain from below impresses, but the stairs reaching its top provide a view you wish you could take home. The perfect shade of turquoise, the fountain  makes you feel cooler just standing next to it on a hot summer day.

The people-watching continues down to the Barceloneta area, a neighborhood close to the city’s meeting with the Mediterranean. And in quirky Barcelona fashion, strange thought bubbles spring out on the beach, telling you to exercise and walk over to the trash cans. Those of different levels of tan spend time on the fine white sand, surprisingly a nice looking beach for a city.

I close out the day in Barcelona where perhaps the whole city is tonight. At Barcelona Camp Nou, the city’s team is playing Seville. Mostly fathers and sons come to watch the game, bringing snacks packed from home. The massive stadium feels even larger as every seat is nearly occupied. The intensity of Barcelona’s football scene is alive and well here.

And much like a good match, I know Barcelona matches well with most anybody. Right down to the street lamps, dangling like earrings I wouldn’t mind owning, it is in the details in Barcelona, for which you can’t help but be spellbound. Wish you were here.

In the town of Buñol, Spain, just beyond Valencia, the festival of La Tomatina is put on every year, much to the amusement of backpackers the world over. Considered the world’s biggest food fight, La Tomatina supposedly began in the 1940s with a heated town squabble involving tomatoes. This is not the only theory of its origins, but it doesn’t seem to matter how this started to those who attend.

On the last Wednesday of August this town fills for the ultimate fight in the morning. Venders set up selling beer and sangria, for who would do this with a completely sober mind. For around one hour, trucks full of tomatoes and armed with young food-fight soldiers start the confrontation. Hands reach out in hopes of catching a tomato to throw. A red sea comes over as locals jeer from their balconies at all of those covered in a sticky and smelly mess.

You won’t find me pressed up against the tomato trucks in the heat of the action. Some may think I should be living in the moment, rolling in pools of tomato juice and flip flops forever lost by their owners, but I still have a lot of living to do. I don’t want this to be my final moment. For fear of a stampede, I find a perch where I can at least breathe. I get my grip on a juicy tomato and aim for an unsuspecting target. There is something cathartic about throwing tomatoes, almost like getting back at all of those who wronged me in gym class.

By high noon, a horn signals the end of the fighting. Those laughing locals bring out their hoses and watering cans, perhaps to suppress the smell of thousands of backpackers covered in tomatoes. They hose down the former fighters, unsuspecting and suspecting. The man with his bucket of tomatoes returns, this time with a bucket of water. I’m on to you, Sir.

Would you like to have your photographs featured here? Email me at suzy@suzyguese.com.

We were both encouraged to visit the Valencia Aquarium, located in the City of the Arts and Sciences of Valencia. A scene similar to something out of Star Wars, this area of Valencia is not what you picture when you think of Spain. Futuristic in design and execution, the City of the Arts and Sciences in Valencia is made up of five attractions, designed by Santiago Calatrava and Félix Candela. What used to be a riverbed is now something George Lucas would probably appreciate.

Throughout a number of museums and exhibits, the City of the Arts and Sciences of Valencia educates on science, technology, nature and art. What is perhaps the cruelest of jokes concocted by the designers are a number of inviting pools of water surrounding this space. As I notice the temperature on a bank building, 109° to be exact, I have to fight all of my social senses not to jump in these pools.

For fear of heat stroke, on my part, not Christine’s, we save a visit to the Oceanográfico, the largest aquarium in Europe, for the next day. Having bad memories of the previous day in the heat of Valencia, I welcome going into air-conditioned exhibits. However, the sea creatures do not appear to be happy with their placement, but maybe that is just how it seems. Little cages and containers are not my idea of a good life. Marine life is meant to travel, to swim effortlessly through an underwater world. Aquariums put a limit on travel for these beings.

We head for Jardines del Real, what once served as the gardens to the Royal Palace that is no longer here. Pathways and park benches present through lush greenery and lots of shade. I naturally request a seat on a park bench in the shade. I watch the elderly of Valencia take their afternoon strolls here in peace, quiet, and yes, shade.

Travelers must utilize the park bench and cafe chair more. Out of my time spent in Valencia, I remember the heat. I remember those pools I wanted to swim. I remember my depression for the marine life trapped ironically in the largest aquarium in Europe. However, most importantly, I remember the park benches in the shade. I remember the conversations and strange people I saw while perched in the cool, including the lost backpacker still covered in tomatoes for La Tomatina. I remember melting like the Wicked Witch of the West, a role I played in 3^rd grade. While you can’t escape your past, you can escape the heat on a shady park bench or café chair in Valencia.

Have you been to Valencia?  Where is the hottest place you have ever traveled?