After three weeks of warm spring weather, the island has had a substantial wash and has scrubbed up rather well. The countryside's thin coating of dust has gone and everything looks a little brighter . . . except the sun.
Last week we were recording top temperatures at our finca of around 22 degrees Celsius. This week, 12. It's grey, wet and windy too, and I feel really sorry for those visitors who arrived on the island at the weekend - having missed all the earlier sunshine and warmth. Particularly those who come to enjoy outdoor pursuits, such as golf or cycling.
We don't see golfers in our valley, but cyclists are a common sight - standing out in their brightly coloured cycling gear, against a backdrop of wild olive, Holm oaks, almond and fig trees.
We certainly hadn't seen, or expected to see, any rollerbladers whizzing around these parts - after all, the lane that passes our property heads down to the valley floor and is quite steep in parts. Then, one spring afternoon last year, sitting on the back terrace with visiting friends, we heard the unfamiliar engine note of a vehicle that had paused in the lane outside our back gates. (When you have few neighbours and live on a lane that peters out into a muddy field, you learn to identify every passing vehicle from the sound of its engine).
It was a minibus, disgorging its load of nine extremely lean people, clad in matching Lycra all-in-one suits, helmets . . . and rollerblades. If that were not strange enough, they proceeded to rollerblade down the hill at a terrifying speed and within seconds had disappeared from view. We thought the minibus would follow and retrieve its passengers at the bottom, but a while later, the roller bladers returned . . . skating uphill! My calf muscles were screaming in sympathy. This bizarre sequence was repeated three times before the skaters - who must have burned a few thousand calories between them, but didn't even have the grace to look slightly tired - clambered back into the minibus, which then departed. It was entertaining (well, not much goes on around here), but surreal.
Ever since we moved to Mallorca, I've promised myself I'll have a go at rollerblading along Palma's Paseo Maritimo. All I need are the skates. But don't expect to see me putting in any training in our valley.
Jan Edwards ©2009
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2 comments:
Can I come with you? I'd earn a million points in the eyes of my grand-daughter who rollerblades along the front at Whitstable.
I'd have to learn to do it first, though.
Like you, if we hear a vehicle passing we go and see who it is and give them a wave, but good grief... rollerblades? Your track must be in a better state than ours, that's all I can say, as they'd be flat on their faces in two seconds!
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