Like any resort town in the morning Palma de Mallorca is almost a ghost town — quiet streets absorbing the first signs of the midday heat, few people running in the shadows of the houses. Not surprising that the local landmark — Spanish Village – didn’t express any signs of at least some life not counting cashier dozing in the cool of the building.
Spanish Village is like a small fenced off from the surrounding reality fairy tale world. Curiosity pushes you to go deeper and deeper into the maze wondering what there will be around the next corner.
Climb up the stairs, go through the shady balconies and smell the wood in the rooms, feeling it gently creaks underfoot, come into the dead end overgrown with grape, come back, go to the next turn of rough walls, ops, there is already familiar crossroads tiles, and if to try the other side, come out to the marble-edged pool... and so on and on until has visited every nook and cranny of this vast terracotta puzzle. But gradually sleepy, slightly crumpled tourists are starting to appear on the streets. The quest is passed; the result is taken into account.
Have a good day, MarrySav!)
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