Ah Mallorca…a place to escape and unwind…or in the case of Christopher Skase, the infamous Australian who fled here and never left, a place to sit in a wheel chair and receive oxygen.  I couldn’t wait.

I thought it wise to start with a visit to the main cathedral which was impressive upon approach, effectively a lighthouse beckoning lost sailors, with a surprising tardus like interior. This was created by a U2 concert like 18th century installation above the altar designed by Gaudi.  The enthralling echo of the priest’s sermon (even in another language I understood none of it, and all of it), and any feeling of displacement was warmed by the congregation’s singing. While there were only a few hundred at the service one could only feel overwhelmed.

My stroll through the town included a wonderful tapas indulgence with the locals who seemed perplexed at this tourist with an Australian accent who spoke pigeon French in Spain…I thought I might be shot.  From towering cathedrals, to Parisian (yet Spanish) squares, to sandstone windmills lining the port…beauty was in the eye of the beholder and both my eyes were wide open (and looking back in case of that gun).

Exotica was the name of my friends yacht, though describing it so seems to bring it down to a comparable level…in fact, it is a rare jewel in a town that every corner brings new gems.  This 50ft Jeanneau was the type of escape boutique hotels promise but fail to deliver (although I was happy the X wasn’t an R in its name).  In the marina it was surrounded by yachts whose rigging would gently tap the masts resulting in a seaside orchestral movement, lead by the town bell…sleep was peaceful and easy.

We had a lovely sail from Palma to Sollero through Dragonera Passage and Plosa, along the west coast of Mallorca, where I got to helm.  The boat handled perfectly even through challenging wind shifts of 180 degrees and some might say my helming (but thankfully not my hosts)…ending with a meal cooked on the boat that was restaurant worthy.  We then set sail for Pollensa, however the wind wasn’t working in our favour and we had to motor for a bumpy six hours…first world problem.

I had started reading The Art of Happiness by the Dalai Lama.  It was on Exotica though I saw more than the book could ever teach me.  Find your best mate (no pun intended – for once), that you can laugh with everyday, do just that and sail away…thank you Julie and Terry…I like the cut of your jib.