DAY2.

By StanleySobari

#Spend a day in the 10th- century village of Banyalbulfar, before heading to Valldemossa, one of the island prettiest towns

METAMORPHOSIS take a day’s rest in Banyalbufar, exploring the town and enjoying the local food and wine. Late, travel by bus to Valldemossa, 12 miles to the east (the GR221 footpath remains closed along this stretch).

I make my way through the vertiginous terraces of Banyalbufar – appearing as though some giant map-maker had drawn the contour lines directly on to the cliff – to a little house that backs against a sheer rock face. This is the home of Senora Francisca. Chatting in the bar of the hotel the night before, hear name came up immediately when I asked about food, and specifically almonds, in Mallorcan culture: ‘Oh, you must talk to Senora Francisca, she’ll tell you everything.’

I wondered if she might not have more pressing matters to attend to, but I was assured not. ‘No, no, she loves visitors!’

And, indeed, Francisca – warned by the village grapevine – welcomes me as though she’d been awaiting my arrival all week. ‘All the old dishes with almonds, yes, I love cooking them, and today I’m going to make a coca de turron,’ she says, smiling, patting my arm. ‘You know, the Arabs were so clever. We owe so much to them. Bunuelos (fried dough balls), and garapinados (sugared peanuts) – all Arabic dishes – and a little hake with toasted almonds on top: yesterday I cooked this for my daughter. Everyday at two o’clock we have lunch together and it is very lovely.’

Her daughter, Isabel, appears. They squeeze orange juice, and mix almond paste, sugar and juice together. ‘Now this is the delicate part.’ Senora Francisca spreads a blob of the mixture on to a circle of rice paper, flattening it with her fingers.

#The precipitous northern coast near Deia watchtowers perched on the cliffs are reminders of the time when attacks from the sea were commonplace

“Let me tell you know how I met my husband,” Senora Francisca says ,as we sit around her kitchen table, pressing the almond paste into flat circles on the rice paper. “When I was young I worked in my parent’s bar in the market in Palma, and twice a week my future husband came to buy food for his boss’s rabbits. Afterwards he would come for a café con leche at our bar. And our eyes would meet…’

She takes the angel hair – a preserve made of gourd – and spreads a layer over the almond paste, then presses two of the rice paper circles together t oseal it.

‘So one day he asked me to go for a walk with him. “No, no!” I said, “I am seeing my girlfriends.” Well, he asked me again, and again, and always I said no. for seven years he courted me – imagine it, seven years!

‘There is only one thing I miss about the old days,’ says Senora Francisca, ‘and that is my husband. The best in the world.’

As I leave Banyalbufar along the twisting, torturous road to Valldemossa, my arms loaded with the squishy coca de turron, I think about patience and the magical transformations wrought by love. The almond tree’s origin in Greek myth occurs when a certain Demophon, on his way home from Troy, falls in love with a princess of Thrace. Then he leaves for Athens, promising to return in a month. The months pass and at last her grief grows so great that she metamorphoses into a tree on the shoreline – an almond tree, all in black. Too late, Demophon returns. As his foot touches the beach, the almond tree bursts into blossom. Thus the almond is sometimes found to symbolize ‘the love that does not alter even with death.

Es Petit, a family-run hotel in the centre of Valldemossa, has the best terrace in town, looking out over a spectacular horseshoe of mountains and meadows. A stay is made especially warm with the friendly attentions of the owners, Gonzala and Margarita (espetithotel-valldemossa.com).

Valldemossa’s Ca’n Molinas bakery specializes in the coca de patata, a feather-light roll. Sample it with a cup of hot chocolate, sitting among the orange trees in the little courtyard, or try the selection of ensaimadas (pastries), including the ensaimada Caranaval, baked during Carnival time in February, topped with pumpkin jam, icing sugar and spicy sobresada sausage (Carrer de Blanquerna 15).

DAY 1

By StanleySobari

#Head from Es Capdella via mountains and pine woods to Estellencs and on along the coast to Banyalbulfar

THE CALIPHATE AND THE CARCOAL BURNERS. Start on the outskirts of Es Capdella, following the GR221 footpath up to the Finca de Galatzo, an estate dating ack to Moorish times. It then climbs stteply up to the pass and descends through the pine woods to the village of Estellencs (seven miles, five hours). The path is closed for a stretch east of here; a 15-minute bus ride takes you to Banyalbufar.

With a desultory woofing and the distant whine of a moped, the village of Es Capdella (‘the end of the road’ in Mallorquin dialect) peters out. Ahead leis a pale, dusty track edged by dry-stone walls. It leads towards the Pug Galatzo, the highest peak in the west of Mallorca, the limestone summit of which looms halfway up the sky in front of me. The air has a February chill, though there is already warmth in the sun on my back. On either side, enveloping all with their sweet, faintly peppery scent, are almond orchards in full flower, an extravaganza of white and pink punctuated by rows of black trunks.

‘Spring-in winter,’ smiles my guide, Jesca, a Brit who knows these paths intimately from more than a decade of exploration. ‘It’s always uplifting, coming so early.’ A few blue periwinkles are timidly appearing, but, as Jesca says, the time for most wild flowers is later – April and May – when these fields are carpeted with poppies and asphodels. Only the almond braves the end of winter. Blooming recklessly, straight from the branch, the almond knows nothing of caution. One late storm and the fragile petals will be battered and destroyed; the entire harvest can be lost. Who could not warm to such a tree?

The orchads lie along the ‘Ruta de Pedra Sec’, the dry-stone route, recently rebranded as the GR221, which runs northeast through the wild, unspoilt mountains of the Serra de Tramuntana. For the next few days, Jesca and I will walk along paths that are an integral part of Mallorca’s history and folklore. This sense of continuity is all around us as we approach the Finca de Galatzo, the lovely ochre-coloured house at the heart of an estate that was originally established under the Caliphate, the Moorish rulers of Mallorca in the 10th century. On the hillside opposite you can see the irrigation system they introduced ,still carrying water to a large aljibe, a water cistern, overhung by palms and pomegranate trees. The Moors, too, taught the islanders to terrace the land with dry-stones walls, and brought with them the ubiquitous oranges, lemons and almonds, whose flavours lend a Middle Eastern subtlety to Mallorcan cuisine.

We make our way up the valley behind the house, through an oak forest dotted with the remains of charcoal burners’ huts. As recently as the 1920s charcoal was Mallorca’s main fuel, produced by groups of families living in camps in the forest. It was a hard life, tending week-long fires in the tinderbox summer. They built their little thatched huts for a season, then moved on; these cool, bare-earthed oak woods must have been a relief from the hellish heat of their fires.

The sun is high in the sky now, and soon the oak and pine woods drop away and we are climbing through a pungent scrub of rosemary and thyme. The valley below stretches away to the plain, twists of smoke rising here and there. The sea gleams hazily in the distance, and a holiday resort can just be seen in silhouette, as inconsequential in this grand landscape as a child’s building blocks left out on the rug.

At the pass we step through a gateway and instantly find ourselves in different terrain, north facing and damp. A mossy path runs through a cool pine wood, fringed with lichen; underfoot, the diss grass is thick and tussocky. After the toil uphill the stone circles (sitges) on which charcoal burners lit their fires; we are following their route to market.

The shadows are lengthening by the time we walk into Estellencs, ringed by almond blossom. As I sit on a warm stone wall, waiting for the bus to Banyalbufar, an image of the charcoal burners’ arrival in the village flashes into my mind –their blackened faces, the smell of wood smoke as they lead mules piled high with fuel for sale; the villagers’ sideways looks, half condescending and half afraid of these vild woodsmen who have walked straight out of the Middle Ages into their market square.

The charming rooms at Hotel Son Borguny in Banyalbulfar look out over tiled rooftops to the sea; the dining room serves a Mallorcan menu (sonborguny.com).

Recently awarded Michelin’s Bib Gourmand’, Son Tomas has dishes including a warming seafood and potato hotpot (Baronia 17, BAnyalbulfar; closed Dec-Jan).

THE TIME OF THE almond blossom

By StanleySobari

# Almond trees have been part of the Mallorcan landscape since their introduction by the Arabs a thousand years ago. Walking along the old mule tracks of Mallorca’s Serra de Tramuntana draws you deep into their millennia of history, folklore and myth.

This four-day walking itinerary through the craggy mountains and deep green valleys of northwest Mallorca sets out from the village of Es Capdella, west of Palma, and follows the GR221 footpath to Soller. En route are fragrant almond orchards, little-visited villages and coastal views, and the town of Banyalbufar, Valdemossa and Diae perched high above the sea.

Cebu

By StanleySobari

WITH its capital reigning as the “Queen City of the South” and pulsating as the heart of commerce, trade, and education in the Visayas, Cebu Province is one of the most urbanished provinces in the Philippines. It envelops leading tourist beach areas such as Cebu Island and Mactan Island, and is a multiple award-winner for being one of the best island destinations in the Asia-Pacific region. Cebu Island and Mactan Island are linked by two bridges and together home a superb slew of exquisite mountains and seas that are what dreams are made of.

Best for all-night celebrants-Voenpick Hotel Mactan Island Cebu

Punta Egano Rd, Cebu City 6015, Philippines; tel:+63 32 492 777. Party people will be pleased with the definitive beach club experience Ibiza Beach Club has to offer. Featuring entertainment by world-renowned DJs and by enchanting fire dancers, the club that is famous for tis marinated meats and tasty tapas also allow those out for a good time to enjoy their tipples while soaking up panoramic views of the ocean under the stars. The Mediterranean-inspired hotel was refurbished just over a year ago, and has 245 rooms with floor-to-ceiling windows. With an impressive range of event venues to host meetings and functions, the hotel makes fro an optimal destination for conferences and weddings.

The hotel’s private beach allows guest to snorkel and to dive without having to deal with crowds. If you do not already have one, earn your self a diving license with its Scuba School International and be on your way to being swaddled by striking marine life.

A 30-minute boat ride from Mactan, Hilutungan Island abounds with glittering corals and tropical fishes