Go there:After a bleak first impression, Brian O'Connellwas pleased to find that there is a lot more to the Spanish island than may meet the eye, and, below, Joan Scaleswrites about the island's glamorous residents
'YOU'RE NOT THE centre of the bleedin' universe, came the voice from outside our fourth-floor apartment. It was 2.07am, and my partner and I were spending our first night on a package holiday in Palma Majorca on the southwest coast of Majorca.
By far our biggest package-holiday destination, Majorca is chosen as a winter or destination by anywhere between 60,000 and 100,000 Irish holidaymakers each year. "Its big selling points include short flights, great choice of accommodation, value for money and facilities on the ground," says Clem Walshe of Budget Travel. "It is also considered family-friendly and safe."
We had asked for a quiet resort away from the beats-and- bars experience, a remove from the likes of Santa Ponsa and Magaluf. On the brochure our complex, Nova Apartments, boasted all the advantages of a "hotel and at the same time all the conveniences of a holiday home". The property was, it proudly claimed, "ideal for couples".
With two single beds side by side in our room, and multiple domestics taking place outside our window, deftly illuminated by a flashing neon light from the opposite Hotel Hawaii, we weren't so sure.
The residents of the apartments were largely Irish holiday- makers - some mature couples, and several families, but mostly, when we visited at the end of August, groups in their late teens. They led largely nocturnal existences, and left the sunny resort paler than when they arrived. We caught sight of them briefly, reloading their fridges, asking for a spare key at the reception desk, having lost theirs, or crawling into the resort pool as dusk fell.
Our site rep, Barbara, was adept at handling any issues that arose. Several holidaymakers had been evicted the week before for unruly behaviour, with one studio apartment accommodating 42 revellers. On our first morning she called a meeting and wasted no time in laying down the rules, including reporting any noise after 1am, and explaining how to respond to a medical emergency. She gave advice on the best markets, where to eat and how to get around. In fact, halfway through I was beginning to wonder how we had ever coped without Barbara on holidays up to this. With a line of grumbling holidaymakers awaiting her arrival every morning, she dealt with each complaint in a practical and firm manner, and was informed and helpful throughout our stay. Entertainment was laid on in the complex every night, from bingo to children's talent shows, and a host of tribute acts, which we skipped.
FOR THOSE WHO wandered out- side the apartment complex, the nearby resort town of Magaluf was all flashing neon and English breakfasts, a one-stop Ant and Dec land where The X Factor was shown on big screens on Saturday nights and footie fans catered for all weekend.
Menus in most restaurants were uneventful and stodgy, while the shopping was expensive in price but cheap in content. Groups of Stetson-wearing females with "Sex Employee" or "I'm gagging for it" badges strolled the prom, egged on by shirtless hordes of male admirers. The beach was crowded and the water cloudy. It wasn't exactly idyllic.
We rented a car (€140 for five days) and decided to explore the rest of the island, finding in places such as Porto Colom and Porto Cristo sleepy fishing villages with significantly less crowded beaches and swimming spots.
One day we headed southeast from Palma Nova, stopping at Platja des Trenc, a curved coast- line of white sandy beaches and clear waters, refreshingly free of inflatable crocodiles and cans of lager.
But be careful from what side you enter the beach. Inadvertently, we came at it from Colonia Sant Jordi, and plonked ourselves down on a less populated patch of shoreline. All around us well-tanned Europeans stood or lay proud. Proud and naked, that is. As we clung to our covered Catholic carcasses we quickly realised we were on one of the island's many nudist beaches.
The feeling of awkwardness brought me right back to a family holiday in France when I was 15 and a local girl instructed me expertly in the ways of the tongue tango. Suffice to say, growing up in a rural Irish town, where the swimming pool had signs including "No heavy petting in the deep end", is not ideal preparation for an after- noon on a nudist beach. Still, I have to admit, for the 10 minutes I lasted, I felt liberated.
THAT EVENING WE headed back towards our apartment and booked dinner at Ciro's, on the water's edge in Palma Nova, and touted as one of Majorca's best gourmet restaurants. Main courses cost between €25 and €30. We ate on the terrace out- side, a little too close to the road for intimacy, but the food was good and service attentive.
So good, in fact, that we returned to Ciro's a second night, but this time the experience was awful. Food was over-embellished and pretentious - pizza foam an unpalatable example - while an oriental lady belting out a 1980s power ballad by way of entertainment didn't help matters. Consistency, it seemed, is not one of Ciro's great strengths.
Another day trip worth doing is to Valldemossa, north of Palma Nova, on the west coast. This is where Chopin and George Sand spent a disastrous winter in 1838, in a bid to improve the composer's health and get a break from the excesses of Parisian life. Unfortunately, the trip had the opposite effect, and Chopin's health got worse, while the pair argued fervently with locals. Sand later documented their experience in her novel A Winter in Majorca, which is now, ironically, available in practically every local shop, placed awkwardly alongside disposable cameras and tacky lighters. The narrow streets contained plenty of shops, with decent bargains, particularly in linen and other fabrics.
We had organised our days with shopping and sightseeing in the morning and swimming in the afternoons, and found ourselves spending minimum time at the resort.
One magnificent swimming spot we returned to twice was in Port de Soller, a tiny harbour and beach resort near Valldemossa. The beach is small and not so busy, but, for a different swim, try following the route of an old drainage pipe that treacles around the headland. Once you turn the corner you should come to a secluded swimming spot off the rocks.
Some of the shoreline can be slippy underfoot, but the rocks help bathers slide into the dark and refreshing pools below. With schools of fish for company and pleasure yachts sailing by, and no other swimmers for kilometres, it was by far our most enjoyable afternoon swim.
Other day trips included the town of Inca on market day, which will be a let-down unless fake leather handbags and cheap wallets are your thing.
Parking was impossible in the town, where there was more of a hard sell than at any of the other markets we visited.
It was also nigh on impossible to get a decent bite to eat in Inca. We settled on an outdoor restaurant near the main square and left before our mains arrived, such was the contempt for decent food displayed by our starters.
From there we headed to Alcudia, which in contrast is a great shopping town. I even managed to get a haircut during siesta time. The hairdresser hadn't a word of English and I hadn't a syllable of Spanish, which made it difficult to communicate "leave the length" in the vernacular. She solved the problem by taking out a copy of a Spanish celebrity magazine, pointing to a picture of the Arsenal footballer Cesc Fabregas and giving me the thumbs up. I settled on a mix of Fabregas and Father Ted - and all for a reasonable €7.
Towards the end of our trip we found ourselves returning to Platja des Trenc most days. The main selling points were that it contained only one small bar on the beach, making for a relaxed environment, and was only a 40-minute drive from our apartment complex. Large towns such as Santanyi and Campos were near enough for lunch, and all our shopping needs were fulfilled on a day trip to Palma, the island's capital.
PALMA IS SERVICED by regular buses from most resorts, with several tourist guides calling it a "mini Barcelona" for shoppers. The main areas are Avinguda Juame III and a modern shop- ping complex called Porto Pi, about two kilometres before the city. Everything from international designer stores to local boutiques is there. On Monday, Friday and Saturday mornings, an outdoor craft market is held at Placa Major. It's worth a look.
We also had a nose about the marina, with one proud yacht owner inviting us aboard. He had bought his 28ft vessel just three weeks earlier, and I got the feeling he had been waiting all morning for an opportunity to invite someone on board.
"She is like my new family member," he said as the sun went down on Palma harbour and he rustled up some tapas. Here we go, I thought, an ostentatious 55-year-old dyed-blond sailor, only too keen to gloat over his new purchase. Still, tapas can be very alluring, so we stayed for a while.
As we sat on deck he told us the story of his life. It turned out he bought the boat with insurance money following the death of his wife, the previous winter. It was a dream of theirs to sail the world, but she never made it. Now, he said, his destiny was to travel the world alone.
"Out there, when there are no other boats and only the sea and sky, I feel closest to her," he said. As with Majorca itself, there's a lot to be said for discarding first impressions.
• Aer Lingus (www.aerlingus. com), BMI (www.flybmi.com) and Iberia (www.iberia.com) are among the airlines that fly between Ireland and Majorca. Other operators include charter airlines, during high season.
A HISTORIC ISLAND REFUGE OF THE STARS
THE STREETS OF Palma de Mallorca are worn to a shiny patina by the feet of time. Omans, Italians, Vandals, Arabs and Moors have walked its streets and left their mark in its mix of buildings: Italianate houses, Arab baths, Romanesque architecture and Moorish towers combine with the wonderful Spanish style, all strikingly set off by Palma Cathedral, redesigned by Antoni Gaudí between 1904 and 1914.
It is this eclectic mix of cultures and influences that gives Majorca the feeling of being somewhere different. Outside the city, the island is a mixture of white sandy bays, mountains, monasteries, cliffs, caves, windmills, farms and castles. The famous, rich or impoverished, have come to Majorca, from the poet Robert Graves to the composer Chopin; from Hollywood stars such as Errol Flynn to Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones.
Agatha Christie was a regular visitor to Hotel Illa d'Or, in Pollenca, and Robbie Williams has a villa. Peter Ustinov was a fan of Hotel Formentor, which has hosted royalty and high-level governmental meetings. Winston Churchill loved to paint here.
In the southwest, around Andratx, you might bump into Claudia Schiffer, who is a regular visitor. Bendinat is home to a famous golf course and is the location of choice for the nightclub king Peter Stringfellow.
Celebrity pads abound in Puerto Portals, and you could bump into Anthea Turner or Steve McFadden from EastEnders. You can also go yacht-watching in the port. One of the most exclusive villages is Deya (or Deia), in the Tramuntana Mountains. Here Charlie Chaplin, Anaïs Nin and Ava Gardner chose to hide away. Richard Branson owns a property near here, and the famed La Residencia Hotel is in the village.
As Brian O'Connell mentions, Valldemossa, on the west coast, is where Chopin spent one miserable winter. There, he wrote the Raindrop Prelude and his partner, George Sand, wrote A Winter in Mallorca.
Majorca is also the major destination in the Mediterranean for competitive and leisure sailing, and you will be sure to see the Spanish royal family, along with King Harald V of Norway, taking part in regattas during the summer.
So while you might think Majorca is all about Irish families and friends whooping it up in Santa Ponsa and Magaluf, the island has lots more to offer.
JS