This Gypsy Soul

The sun shone through the little window of where I lay with my new boyfriend, my new man, my new George.-Jorge. The light cut sideways across the bed, catching my face full on. Rubbing the sleep from one eye and then the other, the gentle rocking of the water underneath me orientated me to where I was. Anchored off Illetas beach outside Palma, Mallorca, on his boat Dagmar. His big arms guided me in close to him… his smell so familiar to me now- it hits my nose in short sudden chemical bursts drawing me in to him, his wide warm smile beaming at me. “Buenos días my darling, a little swim?” We slowly rose and headed for the back of the boat- diving off together into the turquoise green blue of the Mediterranean Sea. A new day in my new life…If poached eggs with avocado on tomato- blushed toast, drizzled with truffle oil and good strong coffee be the smells and tastes of summer 2019, then being fed by this wonderful man will be the memory. Make no mistake folks, food is love here in Spain.

***

“Hello, newsroom”- this is a phrase I hear every day now in. my new job for the Majorca Daily Bulletin- a local English paper here on the island. I’m hoping very soon to be contributing my own little weekly column. Majorca is my new home and I fall in love with it more and more every day. It’s a sunny playground, a nautical escape, especially for the very rich and famous, a lot of them sailed by here this summer. Oprah, Bon Jovi, Orlando Bloom, Annie Lennox, Melanie Griffith and Michael Douglas (the latter owns a massive estate here), the tech geeks and social media kings are often seen cruising the high seas too. They love it here and why wouldn’t they? This place is incredible.But there is more to it than just fancy yachts and champagne flutes. It’s a place full of hidden coves, local beaches full of local people and plenty rocks for diving off! These flat rocks are more typical than the beach for many Mallorquins, little homes and restaurants tucked away into the side of a giant cliff overhanging the sparkling blue sea is where you’ll find many of them, towels and packed lunches at the ready, young and old, scrambling over hot stones en route into the water for a cool dip. I have dived right out of my old life into theirs...

***

Bellies full we lay on the air bed attached to the back of his boat, Van Morrison’s voice came gently flowing over our heads, the sun, low in the early afternoon sky began to make its presence known on my feet. The temperature was rising on this sunny and special Sunday. The minutes melted into hours lying in the arms of this good, calm, strong, funny and caring Mallorquin man. Our worlds colliding on the high seas- my gypsy soul settling like fog on his broad forest chest. Our musical hearts beating together. Family members and friends arrived on boats, throughout the day. Van Morrison was replaced with Julio Iglesias ( young and old- they love him) and before long I was caught in the middle of a typical Mallorquin family- and -friend- fused Sunday. Swims were followed by beers, beers followed by dives for starfish, followed by food, sleeps followed by ice creams, chats and laughs and ukulele tunes, kisses and hugs and all round human goodness and light flowing from every corner of my new country.

“My Momma told me they’d be days like this…”

DESIDERATA

Max Ehrmann

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly, and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter;

For always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and lonliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe, no less than the tress and the stars;

You have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be; and whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

GOING WITH THE FLOW 

Helen Shapiro says it best in her song “walking back to happiness.”

 Although, the words ‘happy’ and ‘unhappy’ don’t sit too well with me. They feel very black and white- and really are the reserve of very small children. “Is little Johnny a happy bunny today?” a loving parent may well ask...  well… judging by the snot- filled face of anger glowering back at them (due in large to his toast being cut into unequal triangles), perhaps not. However asking a single 40 year woman (or man) that same question- regarding their “happy bunny” status- in today’s quite complex and transient world is not quite the same thing.

It gets a little grey sometimes, Johnny.

“Will you downstream the tennis for me?” my mother asked me the day before Wimbledon started- we howled with laughter.  We laugh like mad women when we’re together. Often loud, side- splitting, raucous squeals of fun! However these last few months have seen other types of tears run down past my jawline- mainly tears of uncertainty, fear, enormous self -doubt and buckets and buckets of good old fashioned worry. Changing your life with no concrete plan, is not for the faint- hearted!

***

Queasy with tiredness – I clambered out of my warm bed in Cork and called my mother. It was 3am, July 3^rd 2019-  time to go to the airport. “Just enjoy yourself girl, and grab it all with open arms- call me soon” and off she bolted in her silver bullet Yaris.  

My mother.

The best woman I know.

I sat in Cork airport, waiting for my flight to Palma. I felt little or no expectation and took the view that this would be a summer holiday- a place to perhaps decide what it was I should do with my life. I felt light- hearted and grateful that I had so many options in life.

The people beside me were drinking Bulmers cider at 4.30 am. Fair play. Although it made me nauseous to imagine drinking anything other than water at this early hour. A perfectly pleasant mother and daughter (I guessed by their similar noses) - all ¾ length white holiday pants and freshly shellacked shiny toenails peeping out from diamanté encrusted sandals, sat beside me. They were absolutely swilling it down like two prop forwards after a club final. Touché. Everyone else stared peering bleary-eyed into their or other’s phones. I later overheard the mother say how glad she was to be finished the chemo.  A big great Cheers to them and to her for surviving cancer, I thought. I hope they are having the bloody holiday of a lifetime!

Looking up at the departures board, I reflected a bit, on my last few months since skydiving out of life as I knew it. I was ready for something new but couldn’t find it. I was a free agent0 no house, no job and no dependants. At 40 - what does one do with all this freedom!

 I’d thought I’d move to Barcelona at first,  then Dubai and of course my beloved Ballydehob in West Cork… I researched all options. Teaching in China even came on the cards. A job opening up a new primary school for Rafa Nadal in Spain even made it onto my list, but nothing felt quite right. Fear took hold and I found myself applying for another teaching job in my hometown....

My brother phoned me up-  “Liz, Jesus like, let the teaching go, will you?- it's over- you’re clinging onto it like an old boyfriend- break up and MOVE ON for f**k sake” The air of  sibling frustration in his usual calm and relaxed demeanour made me listen well. That was the moment I knew if I was going to give this new life a shot- I had to throw off that old comfort blanket, that had heretofore kept me all snuggly- wuggly. No more clinging to the old stuff...

All that was needed now was that I take myself, my open heart and my free mind to Mallorca on a one way ticket. So that’s exactly what I did…  

Day 1- Arrive in Palma. 10 am and already 25 degrees. Blue skies overhead. I got the bus into the city and after a short little stroll plonked my humid head on my brother’s couch and turned on the fan- full blast. Fionnula the Fan - my new best friend. Love, love , LOVE her. Queasy with tiredness and sleep deprived, I went to bed early and within seconds was out cold- I say cold, I mean hot. 12 hours later I awoke.

Day 2- Went on a date with a local man. I’ll just leave that there for now…

Day 3- Had to leave the apartment due to circumstances beyond my control. Made my way out to a seaside harbour town to stay with a person I barely knew. I took a chance. Long story but let’s just say- it didn’t pay off. Think Donald Trump hats, Love Island cocktails, Union Jacks, lots of personal drama stories- all slathered together with enough baby oil to massage a Surefreight truck of new born babies.

I left after 24 hours with a woman from Dublin- a kind soul that rescued me from the madness!

-“Ah, Jaysus, stop”…. says she, “I knew now Liz, you’d not like that carry- on, I mean some of the wans that come over here... stop the lights”

- “Liz, isn’t it?” she glanced at me sideways as we bombed back down the highway towards the city. No air con needed, “just open them windows there and let the wind blow on yizzer face, there ya go now luv”

- “ Well, I suppose, I… I… just got it wrong on this occasion" I shouted over the noise of the wind tornading through the car.. but…”

-“Don’t get me wrong now Liz,  she interrupted in her thick Dublin bróg - God bless them an’ all for, you know, putting you up for the night, but now Liz” she continued “look-it, the Lord is good and he’s watching over you now as you start a new life for yourself here, shur…I did the same me-self 30 odd years ago, then I fell in love with a Spanaird-  and that was it then. Goodnight, Irene!
 "C'mere to me" she went on- I’d say you’ll be grand- you’re a well- travelled woman be the sounds of it, and more power to ya- but that was maybe a little timely reminder now to not be trustin’ too many people, d’ya get me?”

“God bless ya now love, and fair play for changing your life, stay in touch, if ya need an-ting atall atall, gimme a call and we’ll go for an ol’ cuppa. Take care now darlin! Adios!”

And off she bombed down La Rambla in the morning haze.

I walked the city streets with my bags and wondered where would I rest my head for the night. I needed a plan...

Evening of Day 4 -  the local man I went on a date with kindly asked his friend to let me stay in his spare room for a few nights. I arrived to this flat. I met the date’s friend- and his girlfriend. We hit it off immediately. Good people. Open and kind. They made me feel so at home. We chatted for hours over wine and tapas and the loud hustle and bustle of a Spanish market.

By the way, I don’t normally stay with virtual strangers in foreign cities ( nor would I advise it) - this is not a well- honed habit! But something told me these were good people. 

Day 5- spent the day with date’s friends at secluded beaches, swimming, eating olives and serrano ham, drinking beer and inhaling change. Date was off on his boat sailing the Majorcan high seas.

Day 6-  Walked the streets some more, looking, listening, discovering. Bought a hat. Drank a beer and smiled to myself- alot.

Day 7- Made my way back to the familiarity of my brothers apartment. Unpacked. Played music, went to the market again, started teaching myself some Spanish, cooked food and listened to the sounds.  Music wafted down the street from some apartment or other, dogs barked, the clink of cutlery hitting off plates from the apartment below,  babies cried, then laughed and the sky turned a thundery orange. Before long, a downpour.  Thank God. Humidity - get thee gone! I sat by the window and watched the water fall from the sky and let the cool evening breeze glide over my face, slowly felt my soul settle. 

  “RAFA, RAFA, RAFA, a deep booming male voice bellowed from the street to a balcony above… a common name here, it would seem. This went on for ages! No sign of bloody Rafa- tennis related or otherwise.

Day 8- Met the previously mentioned local man for a second date. It went well. Nice guy. Again, I’ll just drop that in there for now.

Day 9/10/11- Continued to unpack. Enjoyed having a place to myself again. After 4 years living alone, followed by 6 months living with my mother, it felt nice to wander around the aprtment doing what I wanted.

Went to a little beach with my new German friend. We talked and laughed like old friends and shared stories of travel. This chica and me have a lot in common it would seem and I’m glad I found her. She, like me, left home and catapulted herself into a world of change four years ago. We raised a glass to ourselves and watched the super yachts drop anchor. Different world.

Day 12- Sent an email to a local English newspaper  that I’d been reading on and off since May wondering if they had any vacancies for a burgeoning travel writer/student journalist from Cork.

Got an quick response.

Day 13- Went to the local newspaper to meet the editor for a relaxed interview. Got a job as a proof reader! Great start! I was delighted! Finally a foot in the door of writing!

Day 14- Third date with the local man- George- to celebrate the new job.  A pacey motorbike ride to a villa high high up in the mountains overlooking the ocean for evening supper and a beer in a small Catalan speaking restaurant.My heart raced a little as I sat on the back of his bike, wind blowing in my hair, my pale Irish arms wrapped around his Spanish waist.

Welcome to Mallorca, baby!

Until next time, Stay Golden

x