The Day Trip to Ca’s Patro March

Will was looking a bit squeamish after the phone call from his editor.

They suddenly came up with the idea of us going to visit some remote restaurant the following day.

It’s the Sunday Times, so I guess they did not want their readers to think Mallorca was all bad.

He doesn’t drive and I did not have my license on me, nor to be honest much inclination to use it. The night before had been long and… heavy.

I let Will figure out the logistics, I’m just the dumb photographer who delegates like a boss.

We did breakfast extra early… ufff. I was not hungry, but bacon and eggs? It has to be done.

I then took a quick shower only to discover two pigeons had snuck in and were making out under the bed.

Party town, party animals.

So, the day trip.

(I have to give credit to the bus service in Mallorca, it is the most painless way to pay, no need to buy card or fanny around with tickets, just touch the device with card or phone and it sorts it all out for you. Five trips, over two hours of travel, less than 10€. What a civilised island!)

Two buses to get there and a 25 min walk.

Well, three buses in the end.

Neither of us were paying much attention, or really awake, and missed our stop.

And so did Erica, the Swedish girl, who I suddenly noticed had got off the same time as us.

Three foreigners, who made the same mistake, now stood around awkwardly in the middle of nowhere.

Luckily… A bus did show up promptly to take us back to where we were meant to be.

Some polite chit-chat, kind of together… but kind of not, we three headed out on our little hike, down windy roads to the cove where Ca’s Patro March sits looking over a lovely bay.

It reminded me of places in Costa Brava, especially near Tamariu.

I ended up taking shortcuts just to avoid the road, cars, and polite conversation.

Not having a car was a blessing, the walk was great and cleared my head.

I got there in good time and got to work, stepping between the bruised heroes trying to sunbathe on a very rocky beach.

I took some decent photos of the restaurant and went to find Will who had sorted out a table.

We arrived around midday and it was still quiet, but this place gets busy. The manager told us they avoided the phone to avoid the aggro.

So, we had a table and thought nothing of it, but the place soon filled and a lot of people were queuing.

Erica joined us for a coffee.

She wants to be a photographer.

She was lugging around a brick; an old analogue film camera with a beefy lens.

Sometimes being hip can be a real rod for one’s back.

I spent maybe 20 years working with film and living in darkrooms, so digital was like being released from a deep dark hole of solitary confinement.

I am a little ambivalent about the coolness of old-school film, but hey, guys knock yourself out.

Anyway back to the story…

This restaurant became even more popular because of the TV series, The Night Manager, which is pretty damn good. When I got home I rewatched it and it stands a second viewing for sure.

It was fun to see the pivotal scene that takes place in the restaurant.

It’s very ‘Insta’ friendly. Maybe less friendly to the entitled idiots who want to eat there.

I read some reviews after. I was curious about the negative ones, they followed a similar theme; mostly from Brits who did not seem to appreciate the laissez-faire attitude of the staff.

We found them friendly and quite chatty, but I get the impression the complaints come from a certain type who can’t stand not being able to easily book or god forbid having to wait for a table.

This place doesn’t need to bend over backward with obsequious service and fawning staff, so get used to it.

People even complained about how hard it was to get to… in a car and then park!

Jesus wept. If you decide to do whatever everyone else does, thinking you are being original, guess what? There will be a queue.

And there really was.

It was on a ramp for a boat, people were almost launching each other into the water jostling to get the shot.

Anyway the food was good, the view great. The walk back… uphill, made one feel pretty virtuous.

The next stop was Will’s idea, he wanted to see Grave’s grave in Deià.

A cute little village with stunning views, it’s sat under an impressive and slightly intimidating escarpment.

 Robert Graves’s grave was not immediately obvious and was pretty humble (two dead candles decorated it).

What was interesting was how far away his wife was buried.

He was a serial adulterer and maybe she took the opportunity, when it arrived, to get some peace and quiet and let him know just how she felt.

It’s never too late to have the last word.

After a very enjoyable day it was back to bedlam and an evening free to do the hell what we liked.