A Little Journey: Cala Rajada to Manacor to Felantix to Cala Figuera, Mallorca Spain

Church of San Miguel – Founded in 1248. Over 400 people died during an Easter Parade in 1844, when one of the church walls collapsed.

We wake early to catch the 9 AM bus leaving Cala Rajada.  Public transportation in Eastern Mallorca  is not easily negotiated for a tourist.  Jamie, being great with maps, figures out our route, but we have yet to find the actual bus schedules to match the posted and published timetables.  So it’s a bit of a crap-shoot.

In any case, we load up on our free breakfast and walk the ten blocks to the bus stop and wait with Germans in socks and sandals.

Our bus arrived on time and we enjoyed a scenic bus ride to Manacor for less than 5 euros.  We pass ancient windmills.  Moronic sidenote:  Prior to a week ago, never in my life  had I thought about the word windMILL and realized that they were used to mill grain.  Doh!  Not having grown up around agriculture  and being born in the 20th century, I only equated windmills with generating electricity.  These windmills dating back as far as the 1400’s, were used for grinding grain, salt, and water pumping.  It wasn’t until the 1930’s that the windmills were used for electricity.  Moving on then….In Manacor, we had a coffee with milk at Cafeteria Triangle while waiting for the next bus.  I had a challenge in not gambling on the flashy slot machines in the coffee shop.  It seems slot machines are legal here.

The next bus brought us to Felantix (pronounced “Feel-an-itch”).  Upon arrival we talk with a man near the bus stop with a tiny dog who speaks no English.  Despite the language barrier, we gather that there is no way in hell we are getting to our destination by bus .  That is clear.   We wander the ancient streets of Felanitx and see Muslim architecture and Muslim men and women.  And ancient churches.

Basically, we are totally lost and fine with it.

Several coffee shops in the main plaza are 100% occupied by men.   I am a bit intimidated.  I see an Indian Restaurant and I say to Jamie “Indians speak English, right?”.  He agrees and we go in.  We ask the man if he knows how we can get to Cala Figuera.  He kindly leaves his restaurant unoccupied and walks us three blocks before passing us on to another Indian man who tries to help us get a bus.  But the bus station is closed for some unknown reason.  He laughs. “This is Mallorca.”   So finally, we walk back to the main plaza, sit at an outdoor cafe and ask our waiter if he can please call a taxi.  He does and before we know it a handsome young cab driver arrives and drives us the 15 kilometers to Cala Figuera which cost us 25 euros ($36 US).  Our only other option was to wait for the public bus in 9 hours, which may or may not have arrived.  So it seemed a worthwhile expense.  But an expense, yet another, again.

We arrive at our hotel.  Bargain priced.  Above a “super”market which means a tiny market.  The town of Cala Figuera is tiny and QUIET and known as the “Venice of Mallorca”.  Cold at night.  Super warm during the day.  Lavender growing wild in unkempt lots.   An ancient harbor with the most beautiful water imaginable.  Seagulls squawking.  Tiny hidden staircases.  Roman cobblestone streets.  Painfully beautiful.  I say “I think I could live here forever.”

Resting in Felanitx, Mallorca.

Lost and Happy.

Cala Figuera, Mallorca