One of the things that surprises me about Piers is that he doesn’t kill pests. (I think it runs in his family.)

Everyone else I know would kill ants, cockroaches, flies or any unidentified creepy crawlies without a thought, by any means available (swatting, squishing, flushing down toilet, insecticide spraying, poisoning, burning).

Piers would rescue them.

Now, don’t get the wrong idea. He doesn’t like insects, especially in his home, but he will not kill them. He will capture them in a box and then set them free outdoors.

When we were at the villa in Mallorca, he offered biscuits to a trail of ants, and later helped them courier a dead wasp to their home.

Piers’ good deed for the day

The ants were about four feet away from home when he found them trying to cart their treasure along, but they were so slow and it would have taken them hours, so Piers just picked up the wasp and dropped it right at their doorstep, causing the carrying ants to get into a frenzy when their luggage vanished before their eyes.

The worker ants at the door quickly radioed for help and, soon, a whole bunch of them came to help drag the wasp through their doorway.

I think Piers has some kind of strange affinity with creatures. Not just insects, but also animals. He has a talent for spotting things. He’s always doing it and pointing them out to whomever’s around.

Spotted at a hill path to Bournemouth Beach.

In Mallorca, he spotted one silverfish, one ladybird, two praying mantids separately, a giant queen ant, a hummingbird, the first bat that flew across our villa, and two goats camouflaged on a mountain.

Ladybird finding refuge on his sleeve.

Praying mantis in a corner by the ceiling on the balcony of the villa.

He also rescued a bee who fell into our Coke can while trying to drink our Coke.

In comparison, I spotted only one baby cockroach who liked to use our bathroom in the villa in the middle of the night.

The goat spotting was really something else.

We were lying by the pool, reading, when he suddenly said, “Did you hear that?”

“No,” I said.

“Sounded like a goat,” he said.

I listened and heard nothing.

He listened some more, then ran off. I continued reading.

Fifteen minutes later, he ran back excitedly to tell everyone that he had spotted a small goat on the mountain behind the villa.

The goat was somewhere halfway up the mountain.

It was a bit hard to spot because the goats (we later discovered there were two) kept hiding behind tall grass and bushes, only walking out into view occasionally.

And they were really far away, so I had to max out the optical zoom on my camera (12x) to get a barely discernable image of them.

Goat moving through tall grass.

Goat looking straight at us!

Several months ago (I was in Singapore at that time) Piers was trying to fix his washing machine when he discovered a giant scary brown spider at the back of the machine.

He caught it in a disposable plastic container, took a photo of it, then set it free outside his apartment.

I looked at the photo and spent 15 minutes on Google trying to discover its breed to find out whether it’s deadly. Turned out it was a rustic wolf spider. Non fatal to humans but could potentially kill a dog.

Personally, I would want something scary like that dead if it’s living anywhere near me, but at the same time I respect Piers’ non-killing policy.

I suppose it doesn’t really matter too much. All that matters is that he does all the bug catching so I don’t have to.

We had seen photos of the villa before going to Mallorca for our holiday. But photos could not prepare us for the astounding sights that greeted us when we arrived.

A good photographer with proper camera equipment might be able capture scenes of nature that bring tears to your eyes, but there is nothing like being right in the middle of it. We see a lot more with our own eyes and all our senses.

I was reluctant to photograph anything because I knew my skills and equipment could never do justice to anything I experienced there. But I had to. As wise guys say in social networking, “Photo or it didn’t happen.”

The extent of my tan.

Casa de Reyes is a two-storey, five-bedroom luxury villa in the resort town of Puerto Pollensa, available for rent by the week. We went there in honour of Piers’ mum’s 60th birthday, although her birthday is actually today.

The design of the villa is quite plain and unassuming but I really like the interior, tastefully decorated with modern designer effects. It’s airy, with sliding door windows and doorways everywhere so there’s more than one route to get to any part of the villa.

But the key feature is, of course, the view all around: Mountains at the back, sea in front, and beautiful neighbouring villas at the side.

Well, there’s nothing much more I can say about it, so I’ll let my photos do the work now.

Casa de Reyes sits at the foot of the Sierra de Tramuntana mountain range in Boquer, Puerto Pollensa.

It’s a bit hidden from view at the road outside.

View from the second floor balcony.

The balcony.

Piers’ parents being shown around.

Kitchen and dining hall.

Lounge.

Master bedroom.

Zoomed-in view from the balcony.

The bedroom Piers and I used. Has ensuite bathroom and a one-way door in the bathroom leading out to the pool. (In fact, every bedroom in the villa has a doorway leading out to the pool.)

One of the smaller bedrooms.

One of the smaller bedrooms.

A bedroom with ensuite bath, and a sliding door window that overlooks the pool.

The view from the above bedroom.

Infinity pool.

Another view of the pool.

There’s like a rooftop area at the back of the house but it’s unfurnished so no one goes up there except Piers, who likes to stand up there to look for goats on the mountain.

Evening view of the distant mountains.

Piers and Sebastian playing paddle ball on the balcony.

Okay, that’s quite enough photos of the villa. Will talk more about what we did in there next time!

Following our tradition of impromptu vacationing, Piers only started Google searching for our next location a day before we had to leave our current location.

We were in Palma, the main city in Mallorca. We decided we wanted to stay at a beach, next, so Piers started going through lists on the Internet.

First hotel on the list was full.

Second hotel was full.

Third hotel had one vacancy. Bingo.

So it was totally due to chance that Cala d’Or became our next location.

Cala Esmerelda cove in the city of Cala d’Or.

Cala d’Or is a resort city built around many beautiful cove beaches which look like they could be the smallest beaches in the world. (I think “cala” means cove.)

They’re the smallest I have ever seen, anyway. I never knew beaches could be that tiny.

Although tiny, they’re beautiful. Each features clean, fine sand as well as sparkling clear seawater lapping gently at the rocks forming a beautiful natural cove that, at a point, widens out into the Mediterranean Sea.

We stayed at the Barcelo Ponent Playa Hotel, built right on top of Cala Ferrera beach, which boasts a whole 60 metres of shoreline, the longest in Cala d’Or. (The shortest shoreline belongs to Cala Serena at 20 metres.)

Cala Ferrera Beach

The shore length may be short but the width is something else!

Piers arranges our parasol and towels so that I get shade and he gets sun.

Our view from our camp spot.

Piers will kill me for this photo.

There are fruit hawkers on almost every beach presenting their sales pitches by wailing in singsong manner.

View of our hotel from the beach at night.

While the beach was lovely, I can’t say the same for the hotel.

We had a good first impression. The lobby looked decent, the staff was very friendly and helpful, and we had a basic but clean room with a balcony overlooking the hotel pool.

Barcelo Ponent Playa Hotel

It took some time before we realised that the aircon wasn’t working. It blew stale, lukewarm air. At night, the air outside was cooler than in our room. The tap water had a diluted salty taste.

On our second night, I woke up in the middle of the night with a hangover (thanks to our three jugs of sangria), feeling intensely dehydrated after two sessions of throw-up. We had run out of water and, obviously, the tap water couldn’t be drunk.

There was no room service and no bar fridge. It was past 2 am. I resigned myself to death by dehydration.

Fortunately, Piers suddenly remembered vending machines at the car park so he ran out to get some water for me.

Only Coke was available, but that was okay. That was good. It made me feel better.

And then the noise started.

Every half an hour, a truck or a coach would pull into the hotel driveway, either chugging loudly or reverse beeping annoyingly. Some would stay for only two minutes before rumbling off, but some chugged in the driveway for a good ten minutes.

I thought they were maybe trucks delivering goods or something, but Piers said they were coaches delivering tourists (he went out the balcony to look once). This went on every 30-60 minutes for the next five hours.

Why would there be so many tourists arriving nonstop in the middle of the night?

We hardly slept all night and, at 8 am, I woke a groggy Piers up for breakfast because my hangover was demanding fruit and toast in epic quantities.

I was glad we were only there for two nights.

Sangria aka source of my hangover. One jug at lunch and two jugs at dinner.

If we were to go to Cala d’Or again, I might choose to stay at the Inturotel Cala Esmerelda Hotel, which is situated by the Cala Esmerelda beach.

It’s only a short walk from where we stayed. Wherever you stay in Cala d’Or, you’d probably be within walking proximity of at least two beaches.

Cala Esmerelda is smaller than Cala Ferrera but prettier, all 40 metres of its shoreline.

Cala Esmerelda Beach

We briefly visited a third beach, Cala d’Or beach, but I don’t know why it’s called that, since it’s one of the smaller ones (35m shoreline) and not like in the centre of Cala d’Or or anything.

The area around this beach seems quite luxurious, populated by beautiful white holiday bungalows. The Cala d’Or Hotel is right beside the beach, looking gorgeously Mediterranean. I would love to stay there if we ever go back to Mallorca.

The beach is really crowded though, cos it’s so tiny. But the cove is just as beautiful as the others, if not more.

Well, they kind of all look the same after a while, to be honest, so I’m very proud of myself for being able to remember which is which.

Cala d’Or Beach

Apart from beaches, there’s a nice marina in Cala d’Or filled with Sunseeker boats which Piers excitedly recognised because Sunseekers are made in Poole, the town next door to us.

Piers is a bit silly about boats, almost as silly as he is about planes and cars.

When we’re at a marina, I tend to marvel at the water sparkling in the sun while he drools at the big boats.

We’d go, “Wow!!!!” in unison but we’d be wowing at different things.

Marina Cala d’Or

Along the banks of the marina are elegantly styled restaurants and club houses. We ate at one of those restaurants on our last day in Cala d’Or.

I had roast suckling pig. It is apparently a speciality in Mallorca.

It was alright. Tasted a bit like German pork knuckles. Chinese suckling pig tastes better, but that’s a different dish, I suppose, since we mostly eat only the skin.

The French onion soup was great. I have never liked French onion soup but have acquired a taste for it since coming to the UK.

The carbonara was not so great.

Restaurants are like a box of chocolate. You never know whether the dish you pick is good or bad. Until it’s too late.

There’s a nice Mexican grill called El Patio in the town centre at Cala Ferrera. You can’t miss it. The town centre is tiny.

You go up to the second floor where it’s really breezy, taking care not to trip over the fake Mexican dude lying on the steps.

El Patio Restaurant

I don’t know if the grills are any good but I really enjoyed the breeze.

They serve unlimited BBQ pork ribs there (eat all you can for one price) and it looked quite good. We saw a guy having it.

We were kind of full at that time so only ordered some snacks. They were very good.

My fried chicken wings were perfectly crispy, juicy and tasty, salted just right. They came with an interesting dip that was sort of like a cross between sweet chilli sauce and BBQ sauce.

My grilled corn was so sweet, juicy and crunchy, just the right amount of doneness. The corn came with a giant pat of delicious herb butter which would be the death of you if you attempted to clean it all up.

I would have gone back there for another meal since we were in Cala d’Or for about three days, but then our hotel booking included complimentary breakfast and dinner (unremarkable buffet fare) so we didn’t have many meals outside the hotel.

We just had a lot of sangria.

You must have sangria if you go to Spain. We had five jugs at different establishments and they were all great.

Okay, I think I’ve just about covered everything I can (or want to) about Cala d’Or.

Coming up in the next post, the amazing gorgeous villa where we spent a week of our vacation.

Check back soon!

Sheylara at the Marina.

Mallorca has about 80 beaches surrounding the small island which measures 3,640.11 km² (but not as small as Singapore at 694km²).

That is basically the reason tourists flock to this Mediterranean island by the million (6 million in 2010).

S’Amarador, voted Best Beach in Europe since 2008.

There are many other attractions in Mallorca: Historical sights, museums, golf, food and wine, sea cruises and water sports. But for the two weeks Piers and I were there, all we wanted to do was laze around to soak in the scenic views wherever we happened to be.

View from a lookout point at Cap de Formentor.

Everywhere was sky, sea, clouds, mountain and sand. You can’t get enough of the scenery.

But you can get enough of the sun. Almost every day, the sun beat down at us mercilessly, making us wish we were back in England for the wonderfully cold English summer.

I stayed in the shade as much as I could. I bought a giant hat and we got a big beach umbrella. The air in Mallorca is quite dry so you won’t perspire unless you’re walking about under direct sunlight. It can be pleasant as long as you find yourself some shade and don’t go for long walks in the day.

Many shops and services in Mallorca are closed between 1 pm and 5 pm for siesta. It’s the hottest time of the day and no one wants to work or walk out to the shops. Beach and souvenir shops will usually be open for tourists, though. And supermarkets. There is no lack of mini marts where you can get supplies.

During our many long drives around Mallorca in the two weeks, we kept passing through “ghost towns”. They are small streets flanked by two-storey buildings, structured around a sort of grid pattern. And they are entirely deserted except for cars parked by the side.

If not for the cars, which look serviceable, you would totally think the towns are abandoned towns because you cannot see a single soul out and about. All doors and windows are shuttered. You can’t see anyone indoors or outdoors.

It was quite creepy to be honest.

The first time we drove through such a town, we had been on our way to our next hotel.

As we remarked on the absence of living souls apart from ourselves, Piers suddenly said with a smile, “Oh, here’s our hotel, darling.”

“Yeah, right,” I had retorted.

“Would you be happy if I had really booked us a hotel here?”

“No. This is the kind of place people get murdered in movies.”

Anyway, we basically spent two weeks being slugs at the pool or beach or, when it was too hot, indoors on the sofa. We did do a bit of sightseeing and also went on a sea adventure but it was just pure relaxation most of the time.

It was the most relaxing holiday I’d ever been on, in no small part due to the fact that I didn’t have wifi and therefore couldn’t blog. In my other holidays, I tended to spend like a third of my time blogging.

It was an amazing holiday for me, the only downside being that I got a tan.

I do not like being tanned because I had spent my entire childhood being teased for being a lot darker than the average Chinese. (Somehow, my skin gradually lightened as I grew up.)

This vacation, despite my obsessive use of sunblock, turned my skin many shades darker. It’s going to take me forever to reverse that because I tan quickly and recover slowly.

But it’s a small price to pay, even if I have to buy a new shade of makeup to match my new tan. I would do it all over again.

And, this time, I would remember to bring my bikinis.

England’s summer seems to have gone, with the temperature around 17°C tops this entire week. While I generally love this temperature (so much better than dreadful heat), I am a bit disappointed because I had wanted to go to nearby Sandbanks for a beach picnic. Piers had told me that Sandbanks beach is as nice as Mallorcan beaches.

And I desperately want to wear my new bikinis after having to tolerate two weeks of wearing that crappy replacement I bought in Mallorca.

But how are we supposed to have a beach picnic in 17°C temperature and no sun?

I guess this means I can now start on my de-tanning process. Staying home to blog all day is a good plan.

Today’s post is just an overview of our Mallorcan holiday. I’ll go into more detail in my next posts, highlighting the cool places you can check out in that spicy little island.

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