As I stepped off the plane, I was greeted by a sight I had never seen before. My eyes were drawn to the vast mountain ranges blending into the blinding blue sea. As I left the airport, I was greeted by the warmth of the sun. After almost a day of navigating three airports alone, I finally reached my destination. My best friend was living in Sóller, a small town in Mallorca, for the summer, and she had invited me to come and join her adventure. I was beyond excited for the memories ahead of us, and I was eager to learn about a culture I was unfamiliar with and practice my Spanish-speaking skills.
On the first day, we woke up early and headed to the town market. The narrow streets were filled with vendors selling all types of goods, including various fabrics, ceramic goods, cheese, dried meats, and heaps of olives and spices. We walked around in awe as we explored the abundance of products. When listening to vendors selling to customers, I quickly realized they weren’t speaking Spanish. We asked one of the merchants what language she was speaking, and she informed us that she was speaking Catalan, the language spoken by most Mallorcan natives. Catalan is similar to Spanish, yet to the locals, these two languages are very different.
In the following days, my friend Lucy and I explored the town of Sóller, familiarizing ourselves with local spots and navigating public transportation. One morning, we decided to hike to Deià, a neighboring village. The hike took us around three hours, and it was a straight uphill climb the entire way. We stopped to say hello to a few stray cats along the way and even ran into other hikers on the narrow path.
Later that afternoon, we took the trolley to Port de Sóller, a neighboring town on the Balearic Sea. The trolley took us through the countryside, where we saw hundreds of lemon and orange trees. When we arrived at the Port, we decided to jump into the sea. It was around 104º F, and we were thrilled to cool off and evade the sun’s intense rays.
Our evening ritual was to walk to the center of town and sit on the steps of a massive church called Sant Bartomeu de Sóller. Typically, we would grab some ice cream beforehand and sit and watch kids playing in the streets and people having dinner. During the afternoon, most shops close, and people return home to rest during the hottest part of the day. Then, everyone returns in the evening for dinner and lets their kids run free. On one occasion, we sat eating our ice cream, and a soccer ball rolled our way. I got up and passed it to one of the kids playing and turned around to sit back down. However, the kid kicked the ball back to me. Game on.
We passed and dribbled the ball around for a while, scoring imaginary goals and avoiding other pedestrians in the town square. After the ball was almost squashed by a car, we decided to stop playing. My friend and I introduced ourselves to the kids. We asked them what their life was like living in Sóller, and they were curious to hear about our lives in the U.S. We were able to communicate in Spanish and share different aspects of our backgrounds and cultures with one another. Although me and my friend’s Spanish were not as polished as our new friends, they were very compassionate and helped us with words we didn’t know or understand.