Bordeaux and Palmiers

I have made an important decision about this blog.

After reading the archives, it’s all starting to feel very haphazard. I barely understand it… and I lived it. I don’t know how you can be expected to understand it.

So here we go. I’m starting over. My name is Emily (or Amélie, if you prefer), and I live in Paris. Sometimes.

After my semester ended (I’m still in university), I went to Cannes to work at the film festival for two weeks, before moving on to Spain.

Right now, I’m living in Mallorca, Llombards, to be exact, with my boyfriend, the Canadian. We rent the downstairs apartment of the finca (Mallorcan farmhouse) that belongs to his friends, Ian and Katrina, who are English. We also have some German neighbors, who are renting the other finca apartment.

Every other day, the Canadian and I go to this one beach at the Colonia San Jordi, which I’ll be sure to tell you about as soon as I remember to take some pictures. Every day that we don’t go to San Jordi, though, we go exploring to find a new and exciting beach. The beaches are small and sometimes hard to find, but it’s an adventure every time.

The first time we did this, we went looking for one beach (to be continued tomorrow…) and found this beach. The Canadian pulled up to what looked like the side of a cliff. I didn’t particularly want to get out of the car… but I did it anyway.

The Canadian started to look for a path, so I followed him, my flip flops slipping, fairly sure that if I didn’t fall to my untimely death, I would at least ruin the white dress I was wearing. But the Canadian’s sense of direction served him well, and we stumbled down upon a flat surface that looked out onto the water.

There was a small bed of sand where two Spanish kids were already sunbathing, and further down there was more cliff, where a blonde girl was throwing sticks to her two dogs.

The Canadian and I laid our towels out in the sun and walked over to where the girl and the dogs were. Or at least we tried. The cliff was pretty low, but also very craggy. I decided to go barefoot and ended up hurting myself, but the Canadian didn’t fare much better with his slippy, slidy sandals. Eventually we made it down to the algae-covered bed of rocks and stood with the girl and her dogs, chatting and throwing sticks to them.

Beaches like the one in San Jordi, which is long and covered with bodies, are fun to go to every once in awhile. Heck, until I came to Spain, it was the only kind of beach I knew. But these little tiny beaches that no one knows about are so much fun to track down. I’m going to miss them when I leave.