This was another bridge holiday with Pat as my partner and roommate. It wasn't very eventful. We went for the second week only - and most of the group had done the exciting trips on the first week.  It was a bit of a stuggle to find anything worth copying.

Saturday again started dull, and we decided to pay an early visit to the local market, just down from our usual evening walk. We went right after breakfast and the stall holders were still setting up. It was a very small market, and had nothing unusual or interesting. Pat was looking at tiny sized slippers for her grandson, and I was just killing time by looking at the jewellery which was not price-marked. There was a nice necklace with Majorcan pearls and coral  and I asked the lady the price. That was a bad mistake.

She said 4000 pesetas, and I said “No, that’s too much.”

She said, “Try it on.”

I said no, but she had already put it on my neck and was looking for a mirror.

“No,” I said, “take it off.”

But she wouldn't. And then she got out her paper and pad and said "how much?" and sort of made it like it was a secret between us and not to let the other stall holders hear. I didn't want any part of this bargaining, and really felt trapped by her. I still had her necklace on and I couldn't just walk away.

I wanted to write 1000, but I put 2000, thinking she would not accept it. She wrote 2500, and I ended up saying yes and paying her. Then I had to pay her with two 2000 peseta notes and I think she short changed me. She gave me a whole bunch of small change, and I'll bet it was several hundred short, but I just wanted to get out of there.

Thursday was our market in Inca day. In fact nearly everybody did the same as we did. The bus was a special one just for the market and it was much nicer than the regular one. The trip took nearly 45 minutes, with lots of stops to pick people up. We drove through the very pretty countryside, with the mountains on one side of us, the orchards on the other, the sea behind.

Inca is famous as a leather capital of Majorca, so every other shop was a warehouse outlet place for shoes or belts and bags. The factories were called Fabrica which we mistakenly thought meant yard goods, but apparently just meant clothing of some sort of other in the broadest sense.

When the bus dropped us off, we still had quite along walk along a central traffic island before we came to the market. In fact we almost thought that we had it wrong and that we should be walking someplace else, but finally we got there, and what a market. Every block was lined by market stalls on both sides and up and down each side street off the main one. The crowd of people was solid, and it was hot and pushy and everyone was trying to get our business. We again according to our previous policy had to see everything before we bought anything to make sure we didn't get cheated by buying the first thing we came to and then finding it cheaper somewhere else.

I got 2 small leather bags for my girls, and Pat got a bag for herself, some oranges and lemons, and something else but I can't remember what.  But we spent the hours we were there being pushed and shoved and completely overwhelmed by market stalls and we were not really impressed. Not a real bargain to be found, and nothing really of much interest.

Later on that day, on our usual outing, we walked by a man who was taking a very pregnant goat for a walk. We got to a turnoff where if we had gone right we would have ended up in the main shopping street of Alcudia, but we carried on straight past a pretty park to the large church. I thought the church was the old medieval one talked about in the guide book - Santa Anna, but that wasn't the name on it.

Later as we were driving on the coach out of the town I saw the old little church on the same road but looking very insignificant in contrast to the church that dominated the landscape. This church was stone - with a typical Spanish look to it. The courtyard around it was paved, and the steps up to the church was full of students - obviously there on a school trip. We went into the church, and I walked down the aisle looking at all the little side altars. I assumed Pat was behind me, but when I turned around it was somebody else following me, she had stayed near the back.  

The church was very dark inside, and very elaborate in its decoration. The main altar was not the one that functioned for services, but the side alter had a lit sanctuary lamp. There was a stair way which led to a museum of church bits, and also up and around the back of the altar, for what purpose I don't know but everybody went up and behind to look. There was a sign outside asking women in bikini tops and men without shirts not to go into church, but there were no leaflets telling about the church, or any other sort of commercialism. There were a couple of postcards for sale by window areas, but they were cheap and not even very informative.

We then walked behind the church towards the town, which was downhill. There was a museum just there too, with school kids sitting outside. But we walked down a long windy narrow road with shops on both sides, and enjoyed the shops. There was hardly anyone about, and we window shopped in everyone without speaking a word to a shop keeper. When we got to the main square, it was starting to look like rain.

We then wandered around the rest of the town area for a little while, getting the 12.30 bus back to our hotel. We didn't know which bus to take, and Pat asked the drivers on several before she found the right one. She then paid for both of us, either didn't get or didn't take tickets, and went on to the bus. I followed with a few other people in between us. But the guy was determined that I hadn't paid - so he shouted and chased after me. I said that Pat had paid for two, and I guess he remembered that she had, but I felt rather annoyed about the whole thing.

The bus was very full. We got seats, but the people kept being packed in and in some more, and the bus driver kept shouting for people to squash up in the back. There was a young couple with 2 small children, and Pat offered to give up her seat to the girl, who at first refused, and then gratefully took it, and balanced both the baby and the 2 year old on her lap. They were German. People assumed we were German too, and started talking to us in German when we went into shops and saying Danka Shane, however you spell it, when we left. I didn't like being thought to be German. The British have a lot of prejudice against the Germans and think of them as loud, aggressive, pushy people. A lot of the hotel guests were very nice Germans, just like there were loud aggressive and pushy English people around, but we just noticed the unpleasant Germans, confirming our prejudice.