Lucy joins Blue Sky

I've not been sleeping very well since i joined blue sky. Each night i lie awake for hours listening to the sounds of Club Nautic de Arenal. So last night i had drifted off thanks to leonard Cohen and a bit of Massive Attack. When i was rudely awaken by a huge crash of lightening right above my head, the collossal roll of thunder deafened me and the rain pulled me out of my bunk to close every hatch on the boat. Them all being left open to allow the languid mediterranean air to move in any direction it so desired.

I sat in the companionway and watched the rain plummet, glowing through the many lights of the marina. The sky filled with glowing halos of water and the decks ran like rivers. Ten minutes later it was over leaving me to try and get back to sleep.

I deserved my sleep last night, yesterday had been a successful day. After my now usual morning set up of swim, shower, breakfast with reading i wanted into Arenal in search of buses. Arenal is not a pretty place, a seaside resort town, the only purpose of which is to house tourists, get tourists to the beach and get money of said tourists. The entire shore front is lined with big eight or ten story hotels, each room with its own balcony making it look like a bomb has ripped of the front wall exposing everyones living rooms to the world. On street level each of these hotels houses a horde of tacky shops, selling such diverse things as towels, lilos, beach balls and occasionally cheap plastic toys made in batchs of a trillion in Singapore. Needless to say, Arenal did not appeal, however having heard that Palma itself was worth a trip i wanted a bus to take me the six miles into the main city of Mallorca.

After a small amount of confusion i found a bus, and half an hour later alighted onto a large busy steet that while not particularily bad, was not exactly pretty. A huge department store rose on one side and was flanked b office blocks and shopping malls. Relying on my sense of direction i headed of in the direction i thought the sea, and the old town might be. Sure enough five minutes walking i was lost in a maze of narrow alleys, barely wide enough for a small car and with buildings so tall you could only see a small strip of sky this maze forms the heart of Palma. I wandered happily for some time, heading in what i thought was probably south. Many of the buildings had balconies built out from them, though not like in Arenal, frequently they looked home made and as if they would fall down any second. Washing lines strung across the steet, potted plants cascaded down in riots of reds and green. I passed beneath two men talking across the street from balcony to balcony, this aerial conversation as far as i could gather involved a girl and problems, they usually do...

I awarded myself a moment of smugness when my choice of direction paid off and i found myself at the sea. Even better than that, the cathedral that i had glimpsed on the way in and had lost in the maze of alleys was just on my left hand side. I wandered along the front, trying to use what meager shade there was to stay out of the sun. The steps up the Cathedral are surrounded by sculptures, reminiscent of traditional portrait type statues, only shattered or wrong in some way. Men sat tall and pround on horse, oblivious to their lack of heads. Others stood nobly over the defeated form of an angel. Someone, of course, sat playing nice spanish guitar for the tourists, smiling and nodding at those who gave him money. A man, painted to resemble a statue had given him self a break, he stood smoking and texting.

However i had failed to realise one important detail, on Saturday everything closes at one o'clock. It was already two in the afternoon, the curse of leisurely morning struck. The Catherdral was closed, the big, free museum opposite was closed, the gallery nearby yep closed. Even the tourist information was closed. I bought lunch and sat and pondered my predicament. All was not lost, Palma is as already mentioned very pretty even if you cant go in anywhere. For a few hours i wandered, partly aimlessly, party on the hunt for a shop that would sell me a guitar. I drifted through alleys barely wide enough for myself, and into big open squares surrounded by collonades and beautiful buildings. I dodged tourists and sauntered down long steets with only a mangy dog as the other occupant.

After a time i found an open tourist information office and the pleasant lady despite being slightly confused by my question directed me to a location where i could find a guitar. Five minutes and i was stood outside the self same department store i had got off the bus infront of. Smiling at this i wandered in. Now it is important to note i dont like department stores, they scare and confuse me. Hundereds of smiling people and floor upon floor of needless rubbish. But i wanted to play guitar so i conquered this fear. However, department stores, it seems, are all alike, imagine which ever one you went into last, this is the same. After three floors of mind numbing musak and consumerism i found a music department and after an impromtue concert for a five year old and his much amused father i bought a nice but cheap steel strung guitar for €90. I was a happy bunny.

Back on the boat and hour later i opened a beer, sat in the sunshine and played my new guitar. She has that sharp metallic sound that you find in cheaper steels, but the action is good and she'll play a nice blues. Another beer and i had christened her Lucy.