words FRANCK ALAN-STEED
Clara is an art curator at a renowned gallery in New York. Mary-Ann is a young photographer. The two have known each other forever and, in the same week, they both set off for two unique islands. Clara heads to a hotel nestled in the mountains of Mallorca, while Mary-Ann finds herself surrounded by the extraordinary scenery of Madeira. They promise to write to each other along the way, sharing a journey that neither of them was quite ready for.
Dear Mary-Ann,
Before I left for Mallorca, I told myself that I wouldn’t write to you straight away. I think I was afraid of making the journey alone, without Paolo. Yet I’ve only been settled at LA RESIDENCIA, A BELMOND HOTEL, Mallorca, for a few hours and I already feel as though I left New York a week ago. I didn’t know what to expect of this hotel, tucked away in the hills of Mallorca amid olive trees with pale leaves, dry stone walls and a small village that has remained unchanged for centuries.
La Residencia is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Imagine two old fincas converted into a hotel with pale terraces, wrought-iron railings, huge carved wooden doors and walls that retain all the rough charm of the original stonework. I was given a lovely room overlooking the Tramuntana slopes. Everything here is soothing, from the delicate ochre hangings on the walls to the thick, warm-coloured rugs. Near the large window is a low table and an armchair — this is where I’m writing right now. I can’t wait to properly explore this place, although spending the next few hours admiring the village from the balcony is also tempting. I haven’t even unpacked yet, which says it all really.
The estate feels endless. I’ll go for a walk in the gardens in a little while, before the light fades. There are lemon trees and bougainvillea spilling over the walls, not to mention more than 1,500 olive trees. It’s the kind of place where two people could easily get lost. It’s easy to see why ROBERT GRAVES, who lived nearby with LAURA RIDING, found more than enough inspiration here for years of writing.
Tonight, I am dining at EL OLIVO, the hotel’s gourmet restaurant, which is housed in a former 17th-century oil press. I’ve heard that Chef PABLO ARANDA turns humble local produce such as aromatic oils, almonds and honey into extraordinary dishes.
I’m curious to see if I can still sense the history of this place. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even meet someone there.
Love,
Clara
Dear Clara,
I had no idea that a place like that existed — somewhere you could so easily forget everything. I might be a little bit jealous. But perhaps Madeira and Mallorca have something in common: they are both havens for drifting away from everything. Believe me, I’m here with three cameras and a long shot list, but I haven’t taken a single photo yet. The light here is so beautiful that it doesn’t feel real.
From my hotel, I can see the whole of Funchal Bay. Picture this: REID’S PALACE, A BELMOND HOTEL, Madeira, is perched on a cliff, its gardens reaching all the way down to the rocks. Everything is damper and probably greener here. The palm trees sway endlessly in the wind. Ferns grow wherever they can find a little water. When I set out to take photographs this morning, the sea was grey and white. Just 20 minutes later, it had turned a deep, glittering blue. I don’t even know what to photograph — the light makes every view look different.
I can’t get any work done in the afternoon either; the hotel is too pleasant, and the staff are too attentive to my every need. There is a spa where I can enjoy relaxing massages, and I can even go on boat trips to the Desertas Islands or the golden beaches of Porto Santo. Another guest told me she’d just seen dolphins for the first time in her life.
I was dragged, almost against my will, to afternoon tea in the gardens by a complete stranger. I ended up sharing scones, little sandwiches and a tea with an unpronounceable name on a huge terrace overlooking the bay. Apparently, I’m not the only one to forget the real world here. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW came to Madeira to write but ended up spending his time learning the tango instead.
I’ll try to be more productive than he was, but in the meantime, I’ve spotted a seawater pool tucked among the rocks down below. You have to take a little lift down to it. I’ll start working after that.
Love you. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!
Mary-Ann
My dear,
I thought a lot about what you wrote yesterday while I was having dinner at EL OLIVO. The restaurant has an extraordinary menu and a surprisingly warm and homely setting. I won’t soon forget the gazpacho or the braised mackerel with shallot and orange. And the almond mousse ice cream on a truffle-scented biscuit was to die for.
I didn’t miss my hectic New York life at all. Perhaps that’s how you feel in Madeira too. Despite their differences, both islands seem to lift us out of the world entirely. They create an alternate space and sense of time in which we learn to view ourselves more kindly and see the world around us differently.
This morning, I enjoyed the most surreal cup of tea at the MIRÓ restaurant, surrounded by some of the artist’s original works. Then I had lunch at the poolside TRAMUNTANA GRILL, where all the food is cooked over an open wood fire, giving everything an incredible smoky flavour. Afterwards, I sat by the water with a book that I barely opened.
Tomorrow, I’m going out on a boat called the SA BRISA. They’re taking me along the coast at sunset. I want to see the land from the sea and catch a glimpse of Deià from a distance — maybe that will help me understand why I feel so peaceful here.
I really hope you get to see those dolphins. I can’t wait to see your first photos!
Love,
Clara
TEAM CREDITS:
photography ONDINE SIMON
creative production JOY SINANIAN
words FRANCK ALAN-STEED
editor TIMI LETONJA
