At the far eastern arm of Mallorca, I twist between the mountains, in the car, afraid to look down, happy to meet the goats waiting at the end of the road below the lighthouse. Now I wait for the sun to sink low. A UNESCO site for a reason! 

A deathcoaster passage on the ferry from Ibiza, past shipwrecks that look like they happened this morning.  Then total peace.  No words to describe!

Ibiza.  Small villages, all with white washed churches, a handsome collection.  Set against shades of blue, from the sky and sea.  Find them along the country roads, open the windows, inhale, drifting fumes ... of orange blossoms.  Or barbecues.  A fantastic meal at Cami de Balafria in Sant Joan de Labritja, don't go without a reservation.

Say that three times fast!  An Ensaimada is a Mallorcan pastry topped with confectioners sugar.  And freakishly, this weekend, Valldemossa is a Mallorcan village topped with powdered snow.  Either one a treat!

So, used to be in the long ago days that these proud and feisty guys patrolled Menorca against pirates and other bad sorts.  On a trail that hugs the shore and rings the entire island.  The trail is still there even though the black horses mostly aren't.  I walked a section, remote, lonely, windy.  Then to see another, took a beginner ride on a regular pony, a bit scary.  One horse had a sit-and-roll-with-rider-on in the lovely warm sand.  Some bits so steep no reins, just cling to the horses mane.  Had an impromptu demonstration of the up-on-hind-legs-front-ones-pawing-the-air, usually reserved for festivals.  When the guide's horse preferred not to go home at our turning point.  The view from up high is awesome, but thinking the walking or maybe a bike is the best way to go. 

A trip to Menorca.  Country lanes, through farm land and scruffy olive trees.  Choosing a beach from a list of too many.  On the map, not far.  On a two direction road wide enough for one, quite far.  After an hour the questions start.  "Where are we going?"  "Why are we going to this one?" "When will we get there?" "How do you know this is worth it?"  "Whose stupid idea was this?"  Then we reach a parking lot.  No beach.  No sea in sight.  More groans.  "AND we have to walk?"  "And we don't even know where we are walking to?"  "What kind of idiot comes on vacation without a travel book?"  We start down the path.  People.  They say "only 10-15 minutes more."  More groans.  Then, out of the trees, it appears.  Shock and awe.  And another question.  "Can we come back tomorrow?"  Cala en Turqueta.  Find it.

Surprise!  Mallorca has lots of nooks where you won’t find wall-to-wall sunburnt beach bathers.  Soft-playing sheep bells, tidy, peach-colored stone houses, apple orchards, slow pace -- Orient.  A fun car for all the curvy mountain roads, and on to Soller, Fornalutx and Deia.  More curvy roads.  A seagull view of the water.  A half hour flight from Barcelona.  And the only place you’ll see the lobsters is back at the airport.