Laying Low in Majorca

Sunday, September 4

My time in Majorca has been so needed. As much as I'd like to self-proclaim this adventurous, outright independent nature that can take on anything without a care in the world, I cannot. It's a difficult thing getting lost every few days, sharing mixed dorm rooms with a dozen other people while sharing bathrooms with even more, and listening to the ever constant on-the-go mentality that shouts at you, naturally, when you're traveling some of the biggest cities in Europe. I'm happy to say, though, that for the past four days I've been getting lost zero times a day, enjoying the privacy of my own room, and taking full advantage of the carefree voice that calmly whispers, "You don't have to do anything today."

I've been savoring my mornings of bliss on secluded cove beaches, remembering what hours of getting lost in a book feels like, wading into clear blue waters that can only be described as perfection, hiking along never-ending coves that stretch out along the coast, taking sunset runs along a bustling boardwalk, and stopping to breathe in the free and easy air of my little new found haven. 

 

One of my favorite swimming coves

  

Tuesday, September 6th

I was supposed to leave Majorca on Monday. One of the things about leaving a place, though, is knowing where you're going, and come Sunday, I had no idea. It didn't help that my budget was significantly dwindling and that the idea of stepping off the island and back into Somewhere Busy, Europe was slightly daunting. My boyfriend described Majorca as my vacation away from my vacation, and I knew leaving my bubble of a paradise world was going to take a pep talk from my mom. 

I told her what was going on: that, despite how much I wanted to go to France, I didn't think my budget would allow it; that I was enjoying every day and every experience, but I was often hungry, tired, and, my least favorite, lost; that I had two weeks left and no idea where to go next. She listened, as she always does, and I brought up the possibility of Portugal. We talked it over, and I booked my ticket that night. A couple plane rides and some very crowded and uncomfortable public transportation later, and I am now sitting in my hostel bed in Lisbon, Portugal.

I have a week booked here, and I plan to start out proper and rested tomorrow since I've been feeling sick lately. As my friend Nelly put it just moments ago after I told him I was under the weather, "Traveling can be a bitch." Ah, but how we love her. Because despite the days of long transportation, of hunger and dehydration, of unknown destinations, and the ones that knock you down, it's the thrill and freedom of discovering the world, of stowing away those moments that no one will ever be able to take from you no matter where you end up, that keep the hearts of wanderers pulsating.