Friends of Riomar

True thought-leaders know that the art of travelling provides a space in which the greatest ideas take hold and the greatest opportunities can be found. This ethos of immersion in culture drives us. Life needs to be a combination of work and play, business and personal. Inspiration for life can be found everywhere. In pursuit of our visions, we are nearly always on the move. Refine a set of private systems and rituals to maximise every opportunity a journey affords.

When heading to either a familiar destination or to uncover a city’s culture for the first time we are more than ever ready to go at a moment’s notice. A new city is an entirely new exploration. The mindset should be free and open. Planning a few appointments a day; a couple of shops to visit and a dinner reservation. Leave the other hours for random chaos to happen. Accomplish more. Upon our arrival, the rocky island proved it lends time for aspects of letting go of privileges.

I found myself in Santa Eulària des Riu, a place with a reputation for being sedate. Not in a sedentary manner, simply a place where when the wind passes through it is the most fervent thing to happen that day. This is, partly, why I made it home, for a while.

The sunlight, walking the promenade, head- ing from the river to somewhere near the marina. All the meals, formed from various culinary delights. Each venue with its various levels of expertise by its tastemaking clientele. Lunch guests gathered at tables, some under the shade, others undaunted by the penetrating heat of the midday sun. One group appeared as if part of a hastily organised excursion, excited by the restaurant named Chiringuito Blue. It has brought many to this town who would otherwise never have known of its peaceful existence.

“What a view!” an excited guest declared, lounging whilst eating. It is indeed a very good view. With effortless grace, I set aside all other concerns.

After lunch, it was time to meander further towards the town square. Its modern fountains lining the walk towards the more traditional in its design colonnaded town hall. I was look- ing for a fine spot to sip at an espresso. I took the turn on to Calle San Vicente, colloquially Restaurant Street, the quintessential ideal of the Mediterranean culture; daytime crowds merging into the evening as locals and visitors intermingle amongst world fare. Without much care, I appropriated a round table with bistro chairs and recalled the many summers of past where pavement dining made complete sense. Espresso was ordered, a moment to contemplate, to pass the time. I rather like coffee and kisses.

Another day. The river called my name, rather than the town, where the pathway led me towards the Roman bridge. I had read up on it. One of a very few relics from that period of human history. I wondered who had walked this bridge when it was new, who had sat on its stones, wiped the sweat from their neck and continued their expedition. Where would they be going?

Skipping the road, I followed the signposts taking the rural route that leads to the Puig de Missa. The cool recesses of the church made the pilgrimage worthwhile.

The return of twisting turn, the downhill road, insisting I offer up additional effort. Circling back towards the river, crossing the modern bridge towards Siesta, I discovered a route to an intrepid adventure. I had not anticipated the clifftop trek through a forest covered expedition. This was a pilgrimage in the name of nature leading me to Calla Llonga. I’ll recover tomorrow. A bus back to Santa Eulalia after the 3 hour ramble is recommended. Not for the quality of the bus, just the need to reconnect with something close to civilisation.

The late afternoon turned to a sun that resides less high in the sky. You can almost feel the night arriving. The air by the pool gave off a cooler kind of breeze. An evening here comes with a certain swagger. The day demands the heat settle. I’ll spend tonight at La Llama, energised by its flame cooked menu. An evening cocktail or champagne or some- thing in between. Red wine accompaniments will complement the word class meats. It will be a long night conversing about the day gone by and the next day to come. Gathering as did our ancestors. Something awaits below. Below, the night will continue. I will emerge into the darkness filled with light. Another day awaits, as does a new adventure. Then to bed. To sleep. To dream. Prepare for the next day. A new adventure awaits. Whichever way I walk, or however far I travel, this feeling will linger and will be calling me back.