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Joe Cawley discovers his own Majorca in areas away from the busy crowds
It was sundown in Cala Figuera. The softening rays of Balearic sunshine sucked the hues of honey from the quayside cottages and turned the sky into a glory of fiery red. Long shadows reached for the fishing boats at the waters edge. The village was silent save for the tapping of shiny shoes as the waiter carried our order from our pavement table to the bar across the cobbled street.
This was our Majorca, a million miles from the frenzy of fast-food resorts, concrete towns and neon nightlife of their Majorca. ‘They' being our misguided friends back home who had scoffed at our choice of destination. They pictured a sea of reddened bodies on an overcrowded beach, burger joints at every turn and a sprawling metropolis of high-rise hotels spoiling a fine Mediterranean sky.
There's no denying that these things were there to be had of course, we've all seen the TV programmes. But my wife, Joy, and I had other plans. Our itinerary would take us far from the sombrero and sangria brigade in the package resorts of the Bay of Palma.
While the masses lay hip-to-hip on the beaches of Palma Nova and Magaluf, we'd head southeast to enjoy quiet half-moon coves hidden by pine forests, like Caló des Burgit, where the only other signs of life are visible through snorkel and mask in the crystalline waters.

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