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Day 3 - Mini-bus Adventuring in Menorca

Day 3 (Tuesday)

The toot-tooting from outside tells us that transport has arrived and at 9.30am, 10 of us, armed with sun-cream, floppy hats and water bottles, push each others bottoms into the minibus. The other two are not keen on travelling by road and have planned a leisurely day at the pool. First stop for the bus, Ciutadella on the west side of the island. Ciutadella was once Menorca's capital until the British handed that title to Mahon in 1722 (we really do throw ourweight around) A beautiful town loaded with character, eclectic architecture and history wherever you look. After an hour wandering through the lanes and browsing local craft shops, we decide that the town needs further inspection and when we’re not paying Antonio (driver) and a mini bus by the hour, we will get public transport back to discover further. Next stop, Son Bou beach on the south of the island. One of the best places for sandy beaches and although a handful of the locals were there already, no UK school holidays had started yet so it was relatively quiet. A beach bar found, jug of sangria served, olives scoffed, hiking sandals discarded (respite for my poorly toe). Antonio had other ideas for us as he drives us to the next stop – a virgin (secluded) beach with only 3 other people there, the 3 scowl a little (I think locals) as their peaceful BBQ has been upset by 10 ‘ooh and ahhing’ women staggering as if inebriated over the uneven sand and pebbles in flip-flops. A secretly stashed bottle of local cava is produced from a backpack along with some plastic cups. Another bottle is pulled from another bag along with another 10 cups which brings on some disproportionate laughter. I would have thought a round of applause more appropriate… We contemplate whether it is legal to drink outside in a public place and after a quick Google, we find that drinking is only prohibited in some Spanish cities. The cork is popped before the sentence is finished. Needless to say, the walk back to the bus was a more authentic vision of an intoxicated gaggle. We wish the scowling 3 a ‘buenas tardes’ and wave enthusiastically. No reply… A few other stops along the way are well received but as 3.30pm and tiredness has rapidly reached us, we head back to the villa for a chilled evening.

The knitter and book reading pair had clearly partaken in a liquid lunch, been shopping and prepared a splendid spread of local fruit and salads, olives and fresh bread. I shall insist they come on holiday again...

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