No Matter Where in the World I go, the Rain is Still Wet

What a week. I have been working on plans with the English teachers at La Purisima to put on a Halloween party for all of the primary classes. It takes a lot of planning to come up with what to do with 150 kids for 2 hours! But we have also been having a lot of fun doing it. Picking out what we are going to dress as, planning activities, etc. It will be fun, especially since this will be the first 'Halloween experience' most of these kids have ever had.

Besides that, another interesting recent event was a rain storm. I have learned that Mallorcans are not a people well equipped for such cataclysmic events. For starters, they clearly did not build their sidewalks with rain in mind, as they become incredibly slippery when wet. Secondly, I was to be working with the kids this fateful Wednesday but instead we all watched Toy Story in Spanish b/c we could not go outside. Fortunately the rain had stopped before we got out of class.

Probably my most eventful day of the week was Tuesday. I spent my morning standing in ques around the police station waiting to get my NIE (Numero de Identificacion para Extranjeros). It was lovely. The building was in the middle of a huge construction site and I had to get there 45 minutes before the place even opened so that I could even stand a chance to get in. I got to wake up gently to the sound of jack hammers. Every woman's true passion, as any man knows. It actually was not so bad but my inherent loathing of waiting in lines predisposed me to dislike the process. However, due to the fact that I am a real live grown up, I sucked it up and took it. I think I got it pretty easy though b/c once we were moving and I got inside they directed me elsewhere. I was dubious because the place they were pointing me to had no line, and in a place like this, if there is not a line, it probably means you have gone wrong somewhere. But I moved in the general direction the man had pointed me in, ducked under a few stretches of tape, peeked through a few doors and happened into the room where you get to take a number to wait to be served. Naturally there was a line but apparently if you stand and look like a confused white girl in just the right spot you get to take a number before everyone else. So then I waited in a small lobby and noticed that the woman sitting next to me had a Cuban passport. Being a good American, I have never seen a Cuban passport so she let me look at hers. That was pretty exciting. My number was called and I walk to this young man sitting behind a desk and took a seat. He seemed to translate "good morning, how are you" as "please flirt with me" which I decided could not hurt my chances at getting the proper documentation so I let it be. 2 headshots and a black fingerprint later and I was out the door with instructions to return in 40 days to pick up my number which will allow me to open a bank account and get on with life in general. So hooray.

I then made my way through town and back up to La Purisima to meet with Cristina for our Tuesday afternoon outings. This particular Tuesday we went to a town called Soller. It is apparently the chilliest place on the island, as it is in a valley. but its being in a valley meant we got to go through this super long tunnel through which I could not even hold my breath half the way! As we drove through the mountains I noticed it getting ever greener and the hills were steep and littered with old stone fences in the most improbable places. We arrived in the town and maneuvered a parking spot some blocks out of the way. It is a pretty big town with many very narrow and winding streets. It was very pretty, with a striking old church in the middle. It was a pretty town with all sorts of alluring mountains around it. One of note rose above the rest. The trees cut off about half way up and the top half was absolutely bare. It looked much like a tooth. Although not Tooth of Time quality white. More of a reddish off brown gray. (Yeah, wow THAT makes sense). But anyway it was beautiful and looked challenging, and I noticed people walking around town in hiking clothes with trekking poles and backpacks and now I can't stop wondering if maybe it is climbable. I will be looking into this.
Either way, We ambled about for a bit and then caught the old wooden trolley out to the sea side where we walked on the beach and ate artisian orange ice cream made from oranges grown there in Soller which are renown for being the tastiest in Mallorca. I have never had ice cream quite like this before and really found the entire experience delightful. Everyone we saw was relaxed and half of us were contentedly having at ice cream cones, each in our own way. There were the bottom feeders, who nibbled the bottom of the cones off and drank it from there, there were the perfectionists, licking around the ice cream, keeping it always in perfect symmetry and avoiding any dripping, there were the One-siders who really only seemed aware of the ice cream facing them, allowing the other side to drip deliciously all over their fingers, and many other such variations. I was musing on this diversity of characters when Cristina pointed out that it was all but impossible to feel stress in a place like this. It really did seem that everything about the town was structured so as to make stress and hurry an impossibility. I liked this observation very much and gave myself over to it in all ways possible. The roads were really to narrow to speed on, there were no office buildings anywhere, I did not see a single suit the whole day, everything was slow and content.
As we walked along the water the harbour turned into a beach turned back into a boat harbour where I made my acquaintance with two forms of local boats. The first is associated with Menorca (another of the islands) and is called a Menorquin Yacht. They are more plesure oriented and most come, like the one pictured, with a back deck to hold a prop boat to take in to visit islands and such. The second boat is a Mallorcan fishing boat and I am just kicking myself because I was so determined to remember its name for you guys. I will ask again tomorrow and figure it out. Either way, it is not so much of a pleasure boat and is used for fishing and other such practical endeavours. These boats populate the harbours by the hundreds and there is something about looking down a length of dozens upon dozens of them that remind you that no matter how touristy a place can be made, people still have to eat, and people work for their food and the idea of locals doing it on small scale, fishing for their families and the fish market gives me a deep sense of pleasure.

We caught the trolley back in to the city and maneuvered the labyrinth of its streets with very little event and only a little bit of backtracking. It was an awesome day and I now know of a city where I am going to have to go again.

If you are reading this, then you are probably a person that I am missing. But I love you even more than that, so live well and please carry me in your hearts b/c I am carrying you in mine.