I had the first flight of the day out of Frankfurt on Thursday…and it was a plane full of old Germans (this should have been a sign).

When I got to Mallorca at 7:30am, the information desk was still closed and the cab drivers were sleepy.

Just like when I went to Italy last and tried to speak Italian, I tried to remember my Spanish for the cab driver, but of course the first words that came to mind were German.

I’ve stayed away from Mallorca just because I heard it was where all the Germans go. And even though this is technically the off-season, there are Germans everywhere. Most of the signs are in German. I hear German on the street more than Spanish. It’s weird. And I can only imagine what it’s like in the summer.

My Airbnb apartment is really cute (and it was cheap since it’s February). There’s a great rooftop deck where I have breakfast with sweeping views of the blue Mediterranean.

The view in the other direction is of a church.

While the Spanish are apologizing for the weather (it’s really windy and partly cloudy), I’m fine with it. It’s around 70 and I am near the water. Life is good.

So far, Palma seems more lively than the sleepy Algarve in Portugal was last February, but there are still a lot of shops closed and a lot of construction going on (fixing up places before summer).

As I usually do, I’ve made sure to hit up all the markets and organic stores and yoga classes.

I picked up (and have been cooking at home): calamari, local almonds, local oranges, and local strawberries.

The yoga teacher told me I had a great technique.

The smell of tapas permeates the streets and there are men on the corners playing their guitars.

It’s a lively town full of Spanish charm.