09/16/2021
Our last full day in Menorca, we rose early to get good parking at the popular and near by beach, Son Bou. We arrived around 8:45am and pulled into a spot close to the boardwalk.
One of my Covid moments in March of 2020 resulted in my purchase of 8 backyard chickens, and now, a year and half in, I am well versed in the ways of laying hens. I do not, however, have a rooster. At our villa, every morning, as the sky started to lighten, the neighborhood roosters began their cockadoodledos. They seemed to be trying to outdo each other, but I do not know the ways of these gentlemen. The one we called ours, ie. the one that sounded closest and appeared to be on our property albeit behind a wall, had a desperate, ravaged call as if he’d blown his chords (married to an opera singer, I’m all to familiar with this tragedy.) But this didn’t stop him to alerting everyone, and every bird of his presence.
As we exited the car at Son Bou, we heard the familiar crow, a rooster’s greeting or warning, and I found the guy in some low shrubs. Eye to eye, he went silent. Nearby, two beautiful hens were pecking away, unconcerned with our presence.
The long, white sand beach of Son Bou stretched before us. Only a few people had beat us there, and they seemed to be locals out for a walk, often with a dog in tow. Unlike Cala Pregonda and Cala Galdana, (Cala means cove), Son Bou was a coveless beach with a thrilling surf. We claimed our deck chairs in the row closest to the water, each thatched umbrella a giant nest or lookout for a single seagull.
Nearby was the beach bar/cafe, Ses Graces, so we were set for drinks or snacks as our day progressed. It was overcast, with small windows of blue, but we had all had a lot of the Menorcan sun, so we were content. One of our six, Jane, was an avid swimmer. Being a bit of a worrying rooster, I was concerned about one of my flock going too far out, but it was very shallow water, so after a short discussion, I made myself relax. Most of us stayed pretty near the shoreline, which was thrilling enough, sitting in the sand and every fifth or so wave staying big enough to cover you up to your shoulders. Another of our group, Lynne, joined Jane and they were body surfing and we could hear their laughter mixed with the surf. A local man with his Brittany Spaniel approached me. It ends up he was another relocated Brit, who had lived on Menorca for decades just above the beach. And he wanted me to get them out of the water. They were too far out. It was dangerous. He and I were calling, but the wind took our voices. Fortunately, Lynne felt the beginning pull of the water. Undertow. She signaled to Jane, it’s time to go in, and when they turned to shore they saw us waving at them. Safely back beside us, we chatted with the man who said he comes out on mornings like this because the lifeguards don’t show until 10am. He’s seen tragedy, but fortunately not that day.
At 10am, the guards did show up, and they hoisted the red flag to signal to stay out of the water, and came to collect the euros for our chaise rentals. The surf also came in, and almost took our sandals back with it. We backed up a row, decided it wasn’t too early for Cervezas and enjoyed the rest of our morning. As we left for the day, we rinsed off what sand we could at the freshwater shower on the boardwalk. When the chickens heard the spigot turn, they rushed to the trough to get the fresh water laced with the sea. I tried to see where they actually lived…surely there was a coop nearby. I saw nothing, but the shrubbery the rooster remained tucked into, his head cocked and his eye watching us, while his silky, healthy hens drank what we provided.
From Son Bou, donned in our cover ups, we made our way to Mahon harbor. We lunched at La Minerva, on a terrace with a waterfront table, and ate more fruits of the sea. From there, we walked and shopped our way down to Xoriguer (pronounced sho-ri-gair) gin distillery. I had read that Menorcan gin was like no other, and I can now say, that is absolutely true. There’s a thickness to it, which almost made it feel like it was laced with a little honey, but is really the oil of the juniper berries that causes this. Menorcans commonly mix this with lemonade, a drink they call Pomada. On it’s own, or with lemonade, it’s delicious.
Tired, and still sandy, we made our way back to our villa. The sun had come out and after another outdoor shower, the plunge pool beckoned. We had all done our Covid tests for re-entry into the US the day before with special kits that included a guide for the testing and resulted in a QR code showing our negative status. There was still packing to do, some yummy cheese and fruits from the fridge to finish up. For our last evening, we went back to the main square of Alaior and dined at Pizzeria Casino, recommended by the owner of our villa. We ordered more Sangria, and three pizzas, one with that delicious sausage Sobrasada that I came to love. It was hard to leave the square. We would would have an early morning the next day, with no time for cafe con leches. So this was good bye to Alaior. I don’t know the Spanish, but in French it was definitely an aurevoir (until I see you again) and not the final adieu.
