Friday was our day for going on the organized trip. The year before, when we went to Turkey, I missed out on all the organized trips and  since I will probably never again have a chance to go to Turkey, felt very bad about it. So I was determined that I would go on the trips this year, no matter what. The trip started at 9:15 from the hotel. There were about 20 of us. The hotel representative went with us, but I'm not really sure in retrospect that she served any function whatsoever, unless it was to translate our wishes to the driver.

We drove through Mahon and across the East-West highway for about half an hour. Then we turned North and shortly thereafter went winding up quite a steep hill. Pat didn't like looking out because the road was very narrow, unprotected, and if we'd met a car coming down, one of us would have had to back a long way. But we didn't. When we got to the top, parked and got out of the bus, the first thing one couldn't help seeing was masses of dishes and wires and poles and such for some sort of army or security communication network. Not exactly the ideal addition to a scenic visit.

All around the church ground was a wall from which you had a good view over the island. You could see both the North and South coasts with quite good visibility, and it was pretty. You could look down into little bays and pick out points of interest. Looking east and west, you only saw farm land, small villages, and more hills.

The reason for the building on top of the hill was that a church had been built to honour some Saint or other - whose spirit had apparently kept being awkward with the villagers until they cited his church on the top of the hill. The church itself had thick walls, with little altars all up the length of it. The walls of these little chapel areas were covered with wall hangings which we thought were proper tapestries, but the pictures were only printed on the cloth. The altar area itself was very ornate and fancy.

Apparently a group of nuns used to live in the attached building and make their own wine, but now all the attached room offered was tea and coconut macaroons. We drank and ate over looking the lovely view. The gift shop didn't offer anything very tempting, and the nun in charge looked extremely bad tempered. When someone asked her if she sold silver spoons, she looked most disgustedly at them and said “No!”

After our hour or so on top, we were supposed to go down to a little fishing village, but due to road works we were told there was no way the bus could get down to it. So instead we visited a place near a golf course where a new village was being built - with a large landscaped adjoining area which was very lovely. We walked around there for half an hour or so. From what I overheard Pauline saying to the guide, I got the impression that this very wealthy area was subsidized by the government. I wasn't too impressed to hear that.

Then we drove to a little fishing village, and told we had just five minutes there. We got out, walked to the water front, and got back on the bus. That was the town Pauline normally stayed in when she went to Minorca. That was it - our £8 worth of touring. I was very disappointed. It may have been the best that Minorca had to offer, but I would have preferred another morning exploring our little stone huts.

That afternoon we did much as before, with lunch, sun, swim, walk, supper, bridge. The bridge on Friday night was duplicate, and Pat and I came in 2nd. Pauline put the slower players into one room and had prizes for the best among them, and the better players in the other. It really worked out remarkably well.

Saturday morning we went back to Mahon to do some serious shopping. We had presents to take home and thus far we hadn't much to show for our week away. We started out together, going down through the market, but not buying anything, through the town, to the Gin Factory and I bought Phil a big bottle of aniseed liquor. Then back up the stairs to have a quick visit to the fruit market for a few apples. Then when we reached the upper outdoor market we decided to split up and meet again by the bus at 20 to 1. I did a quick tour of the market stalls I had pinpointed as having the most likely presents for my family. But the real disappointment in Minorca was that nothing we bought did we feel was really a bargain.

Having bought all my bits and pieces I joined the queue for the bus, and eventually Pat found me. She had wandered off, and had almost got herself lost. The only bargain she had found was some cake. We didn't think much of Minorca's bread offerings. Every time we bought some bread or substitute it turned out to be dry and tasteless.

I forgot to mention earlier that we did eventually get out cooker to work - we had been trying to put the match under the wrong burner, or something equally stupid. But when we did boil water, it was awful sort of a slime came on top and it tasted very salty. I tried early morning tea a few times but had to throw it out as undrinkable. Another unfortunate experience I had in the kitchen was to put my martini bottle on its side in the frig, when the top wasn't on quite tight. When I woke in the middle of the night and wanted a drink of orange juice to wash down my asperin, I found I was standing in a puddle of martini. That was very sad. Luckily Pat was a kind soul, and shared her Cinzano with me when my bottle ran out.

Saturday night bridge was Chicago again. I have a feeling we did pretty well on that too. But we had told Pauline that when it came to prize giving, we certainly did not want to accept more than one prize - and the one we opted for was for the team effort. So she was able to offer prizes to people who had come 3-4-5 as if they had been the top scorers, and I think that did a lot to remove some of the bad feeling against me that had been generated.

So then we came to Sunday, our last full day on the island. The pattern of the day was changed slightly. We were going to have bridge from 5-7 with prizes and drinks at the end, and have our meal following that, with the rest of the evening free for people to spend it as they liked.

Pat and I decided to rewalk to Porto Primo with the possible added on walk to another beach beyond that, Binibinka which Pat had enjoyed visiting on her previous trip.  This time we made sure we turned left at the first forking of the paths, and it was quickly clear to us that we were on the quick and easy road. We were just walking happily along, when we suddenly noticed on our right, far in the distance, a stone building - and we thought it was our prehistoric hut. We marked where we were, and determined on the way back that we would at least take a picture of it, if not go back to see if close up again. We continued down the road, seeing the odd few German tourists, although I would think 90% of the tourists were British. When we got to Ponte Primo we had a stop at the Spar for a drink, and then walked beyond the sandy beach into a rocky area, where we sat and rested and decided what to do now.

We were both very excited at the idea of seeing our hut again. I think the thought of going on to yet another beach was not nearly so attractive as the idea of going back and doing some more exploring. So sooner than we had originally planned, we packed up our bags and retraced our steps. 

When we got to the place we'd found before, we gathered up all our nerve, and set out across the rough areas yet again. We made sure we always had the way we had come in, in sight, because as we went downhill, we quickly lost view of the larger buildings behind the wall. The first thing we came to was not a building at all, but the ruins of a much bigger building about 1/3 of the wall remained, but it must have been a meeting house rather than a single dwelling. Then we found what we had sighted from the road and realized that it was not our hut at all, but another one. This one was squarer in shape, and larger. It had steps made out of stone up the side so we climbed onto the top of the first layer and took pictures, and low and behold, from there we could see yet another hut, which we then took to be our finding from before.

Still keeping our wits about us and our trail blazing in mind, we headed off for the farther hut. This one might have been our original hut, because it was the right size and shape, but my personal opinion was that it was not. Something about the surrounding countryside was wrong. It was in too clear an area. The stone wall wasn't where I remembered it. So we decided in the end that we had found 3 stone huts.

On researching these buildings after we got home, we found they were called Tailots, and were probably 2-3000 B.C.- used originally as shelters, with a whole village of them together. The bigger huts might have been meeting places, or burial chambers. What a thrill to think we'd rediscovered places as old or older than the pyramids.

All across Minorca and Majorca thousands of these dwellings have been found. So we hadn't found something unique - but to us they were. And I would be willing to guess that only a handful of brave British tourists have that same thrill each year that we had. We may not have found interesting men or bargains in Minorca but we found history.

We had remembered our cameras this time, and took quite a few views. Then we happily returned for our last lunch, sun and swim of the holiday. The weather never let us down on Minorca. There were a few odd clouds seen on a rare occasion, but no rain and never cold. I came back as suntanned as I have been for a very long time. And Pat was as brown as it’s almost possible for a white person to get.

So ended a pleasant holiday, but not one that will live forever in my memory. But that is not quite right. Now, whenever I want to relax, I try to remember what it was like sitting on the balcony, in the warm sun, looking across at the Norfolk Pine trees and drinking my martini. It was perfect.