Ahh, a nice shady corner where Shannan can read and enjoy the Mediterranean beach town of Porto Christo, Mallorca, while I zip away for a run. A great start turned into a silly little outing. After no more than five minutes of running I ran out of road. That wasn’t so bad, though, as I landed on a working pier. I jetted along the marina, enjoying the people, outdoor cafes, fishermen, tourists happily ambling along in the midday sun and an occasional stray dog. Urg! I soon happened upon the end of the pier. No problem. Across the street I spotted a nice wide dirt path along the shimmering waters of a canal.
I didn’t need to know Spanish or Catalan to translate the “do not enter” sign posted on the internationally recognized octagon of a stop sign. I pretended not to see it and continued forward. The path gradually narrowed and abruptly ended in a marshy swamp. Of course that happened just when I was enjoying ducks and other water fowl frolicking in the canal. Dang!
I turned back, ran a circle or two around a city park, and headed toward to my beloved Shannan. My short jog in Porto Christo was not an Olympic one, but more than enough to count as the twenty-second country where I have had the chance to go for a run.
Once reunited, Shannan and I enjoyed shopping, walking on the beach and an ice cream. Porto Christo really is a lovely resort town. If ever you’re out this way, make sure to visit the Caves of Hamm. The beautiful site is between the cities of Palma and Porto Christo and it has gravity-defying stalactites.
Life is good!
Tom
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