The Fortunate Isles: Life and Travel in Majorca, Minorca and Iviza

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Mary Boyd. The Fortunate Isles: Life and Travel in Majorca, Minorca and Iviza

FOREWARNING

I. SOUTHWARDS

II. OUR CASA IN SPAIN

III. PALMA, THE PEARL OF THE MEDITERRANEAN

IV. HOUSEKEEPING

V. TWO HISTORIC BUILDINGS

VI. THE FAIR AT INCA

VII. VALLDEMOSA

VIII. MIRAMAR

IX. SÓLLER

X. ANDRAITX

XI. UP AMONG THE WINDMILLS

XII. NAVIDAD

XIII. THE FEAST OF THE CONQUISTADOR

XIV. POLLENSA

XV. THE PORT OF ALCUDIA

XVI. MINORCA

XVII. STORM-BOUND

XVIII. ALARÓ

XIX. THE DRAGON CAVES AND MANACOR

XX. ARTÁ AND ITS CAVES

XXI. AMONG THE HILLS

XXII. DEYÁ, AND A PALMA PROCESSION

XXIII. OF FAIR WOMEN AND FINE WEATHER

XXIV. OF ODDS AND ENDS

XXV. IVIZA – A FORGOTTEN ISLE

XXVI. AN IVIZAN SABBATH

XXVII. AT SAN ANTONIO

XXVIII. WELCOME AND FAREWELL

XXIX. LAST DAYS

Отрывок из книги

When the Boy and I had planned our journey to the Balearic Isles (the Man never plans), our imaginings always began as we embarked at Barcelona harbour on the Majorcan steamer that was to carry us to the islands of our desire. So when we had strolled to where the Rambla ends amid the palm-trees of the port, it seemed like the materializing of a dream to see the steamer Balear lying there, right under the great column of Columbus, with her bow pointing seawards, as though waiting for us to step on board.

When at sunset next day the hotel omnibus deposited us at the port, the Balear appeared to be the centre of attraction. It still lacked half an hour of sailing time, yet her decks, which were ablaze with electric light, were covered with people. Ingress was a matter of so much difficulty that our inexperience of the ways of Spanish ports anticipated an uncomfortably crowded passage.

.....

When a sudden shower, descending with tropical force made us seek shelter in a doorway whence we watched the passers-by, we had the opportunity of noting that, though all marketing dames wore smart boots, many of them had dispensed with stockings.

A sharp distinction seemed to be drawn in the dress of the classes. As we passed the church of San Miguel, troops of ladies who had been attending morning service were leaving it. With almost the uniformity of a livery, they wore black gowns of brocaded satin. Black mantillas covered their beautifully-dressed hair, and in addition to their rosaries, each carried a fan.

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