Sandpig, sandpig.

Just as I was thinking that Zurich winter was going to be the end of me this year, our Easter trip happened. We'd been through a bunch of ideas for getting back to North America for some sun, and they just had not panned out. Too long of a flight (27 hours?!) or too high of a price ($6000 for the three of us) for the Easter week. And then the memories of the jetlag that would not be conquered at Christmas time. So, we decided to learn from our Yuletide mistake and stay local. Swiss Airlines has a great feature which lets you dial in a price (which is a pretty good tracker for flight time) and, get this, a TEMPERATURE RANGE. I dialed in between 70 F and 90 F, and we wound up booking direct flights to Palma. It was the warmest place we could manage, while still being aware of State Department concerns and assuring non-stop travel.

We nailed this one. A small, family friendly hotel (Hotel Migjorn, near Campos) run by British expats, full of kids' amenities and in the countryside; a brand new rental car big enough for just our stuff, and 4 days of almost no clouds and about 72 F. Four beaches of silky white sand, many meals that were memorable (including the most gorgeous plate of tapas I've ever met at Perla Negra in Es Llombards), and three (or was it four?) trips to the island's best gelato shop (in Cala Sant Jordi) for a whole loving boatload of gelato in cones dipped in chocolate.

The water was still really cold, but nothing else was. The people, the food, the weather.

Now, I do have to say that our return to Zurich started promptly upon boarding the flight. Before we even got near the snow-covered Alps, we were surrounded by the surliest-looking, sun-burned people I think I've ever seen. No party atmosphere on that flight out of Palma. 

Best thing I learned on the trip - mostly a reminder, that we have to keep taking vacations, that are not about doing almost anything. Sure, I bought a few pairs of linen pants that I hope to someday wear to a very casual part of Zurich, and M saved me from buying a flowy, white shirt that would have never made it out of my closet. But mostly, we were looking for a beach to visit each day, to play in the sand, and as long as we got that and some food at regular intervals, we were great. No checking the phone, no texting or Facebook, and no trying to visit with others. Family trips, those to visit family, are rarely about taking things slowly. And although they are also vital, as A is growing up, and so we stay connected, they have about as much in common with vacations as mentoring graduate students has with managing them (which, really, given that professors are supposed to do both, should probably be reviewed by someone in charge somewhere at some point).

Best thing we did on the trip? Hard to pick, but the recurrent building of a sandpig sculpture on each beach kept things pretty coherent for the three of us.

Final thoughts - a bit more thought on the inflight programming that everyone has to see. Tom & Jerry and a chicken that shoots upwards of 1000 eggs out of its....egg-producing-organ? Not so bad for toddlers. The Best of Mr. Bean? Not so good for toddlers.

Lots and lots of rich, lush, glorious photos...and I have no idea how to make paragraphs that match photos!

Time for some photos. Of Mallorca, which, outside the city of Palma, and near the lovely town of Pollenca, was really relaxing and family friendly. We rented a house, for me, A, her aunt L, and her Bobute (my mom). We rented a car. There was a pool, visiting cats, nearby miniature horses to visit every day, country quiet and stars at night, and a 10 min ride to the town.
M had a conference in the US, so it was three women vs. one very excited and attracted to water Beibis (that's A). It was an even match. First order of business on the trip was to change into a newly arrived purple pajama and check about size restrictions for overhead luggage. Luckily, I think A forgot about the overhead thing once we'd boarded the plane so I didn't have to forbid her from riding in the bin.

A week with very few toys, and no playgrounds. And it went...just fine.
Each morning, no matter if she got to bed at 8:30pm or 11pm, A woke up at 7:30am. Ungh. We'd climb out of our beds, wander into the kitchen, open all the windows, put on some coffee, grab a yogurt from the fridge and head into the backyard. The baby chair wasn't all that stable against a pushy, flicky leg toddler, but we had some great conversations about what exactly was the table (where feet are not allowed) and what was the chair (where, on the usual parental, last-second decision in favor of peace and a chance in hell of actually making some coffee, I decided was ok).


Seafood was on many menus. It was all over this restaurant's menu, in fact. Monkfish, lobster, cuttlefish (sorry smart animal I didn't really like the taste of!), fish, more fish, clams, and fish.



The streets of many towns in the Northwest part of the island were preparing for a festival, and thin strips of flags fluttered above many of them.
There was a jacuzzi with the pool. Not a hot tub, really, since the water wasn't heated. But a great place, 5 feet above the pool level, to try escaping from.
We spent the whole day at this cove. With a rented beach umbrella space and chairs, snorkelling, swimming, eating, napping, and sifting through all sorts of shells, sea glass and rocks.

Ah, the pool.
Someone had a great time running around and around and around the post box near the placa where we were having dinner. Enclosed public spaces, where parents can sit and eat, and kids can run around, were one of the things that made this trip so toddler friendly.

Aunt L and A skip down the streets of Alcudia, new bags in hand. Or, arm.