Santanyí, Mallorca, in my words.
Mediterranean living has a way of quietly reshaping you.
Not dramatically. Not all at once. But slowly, softly, over time.
After holidaying in Mallorca since George was born, I’ve felt an undeniable pull towards this island — one that is difficult to explain unless you’ve experienced it yourself. Perhaps it is the family-oriented way of life. The ease in which people move through the day without urgency or excess. Or maybe it is the simplicity of it all: sun-drenched mornings, long lunches, fresh food, conversation, sea air, and a slower pace that somehow makes you feel more human again.
Whatever it is, Mallorca has left its mark on me.
And nowhere captures that feeling more deeply for me than my annual day trip to Santanyí.
Every May, I make the journey from Cala D’Or to this beautiful sandstone town tucked away in the southeast of the island. It has become something of a ritual over the years. A small tradition that feels deeply personal.
The one day when I can momentarily step away from being “mama” and, in small doses, exist as myself again while I escape the trawl of everyday life. Those moments are rare as a mummy.
Not rushed.
Not needed every second.
Just free to wander, observe, dream, and feel inspired.A moment where my mind can take a break and enjoy the quiet time to recollect myself as a person.
Even if this were the last time I ever visited Mallorca, I don’t think I would feel sadness. Instead, I would feel immense gratitude for the memories this island has given me — and for the way it gently taught me that happiness is often found in the simplest moments. And the colours of nature are forever in my mind of this sleepy island.
The Scenic Drive From Cala D’Or to Santanyí
The drive from Cala D’Or to Santanyí only takes around 30 to 40 minutes, but it feels far more meaningful than simply travelling from one destination to another.
The journey itself is part of the experience.
One of my favourite parts is driving through Portopetro, a tiny fishing village that perfectly captures the soul of coastal Mallorca.
Every single year, there are two little houses on the harbour side that instantly steal my attention.
They are not grand villas or modern luxury homes.
In fact, they are wonderfully understated. They remind me of the house in the TV programme The Durells, especially where they dine in the cool laps of the sea.
Traditional Mediterranean properties with soft weathered walls, dark green shutters, and tiny windows that look as though they have held decades of stories inside them. But what truly captivates me are the tables and chairs sitting outside beside the water’s edge.
Something about them makes my heart ache in the best possible way.
I imagine family dinners stretching late into warm evenings. Fresh seafood on the table. Children laughing nearby. Glasses clinking softly as fishing boats drift in the harbour.
No stress.
No chaos.
The pressure to constantly achieve more.
Just life unfolding slowly.
To me, those homes are the epitome of Spanish coastal living. Peaceful, beautiful, and grounded in what truly matters.
It always leaves me wondering whether we have overcomplicated modern life far too much.
Passing Through S’Alqueria Blanca
As the journey continues, we pass through another charming little village called S’Alqueria Blanca.
This village has always stayed with me for one simple reason: the older couples sitting outside cafés playing board games together.
Every time I see them, I feel strangely emotional.
There is something so comforting about watching people grow old slowly and peacefully together. No grand gestures. No extravagance. Just companionship, routine, and conversation over coffee in the sunshine.
That, to me, feels like real success in life.
Not wealth.
Not status.
But reaching old age still finding joy in the ordinary.
Yet while I still had youth on my side, off we went to Santanyí.
My First Visit to Santanyí After Surviving AFE
The very first time I visited Santanyí, I had a three-month-old baby in tow.
I had only recently survived an AFE — Amniotic Fluid Embolism — and physically, I was still recovering. My body felt weak and exhausted, but mentally something had shifted inside me forever.
Surviving something life-threatening changes the lens through which you see the world.
Stop waiting for the “right time.”
In your mind, you stop postponing joy.
You begin noticing things you once overlooked completely.
Fresh sea air suddenly feels healing.
Sunshine feels like a privilege.
Simple moments feel extraordinary. You cherish gratitude.
Instead of dwelling on fear or sadness, I found myself desperate to truly experience life. I wanted to travel, explore, and create memories with my child while I had the opportunity to do so. So since then, I grab the moments to live.
That first holiday to Mallorca reignited something inside me that I didn’t realise I had lost.
Even though I still needed to take things slowly physically and emotionally, I felt alive again.
My baby spent most of the day asleep in the shade, breathing in the fresh Mediterranean air while I quietly wandered, or sat absorbing every detail around me.
And somehow, without even realising it, this little island became tied to my healing. Similar to Cornwall being the place of magic as a child, this brought its own special magic
Arriving in Santanyí for the First Time
The funny thing about arriving in Santanyí for the first time is that it initially feels as though you’ve made a mistake.
The bus dropped us on a busy main road that felt completely underwhelming. There was no dramatic entrance, no obvious signs of a picturesque old town.
We simply followed the crowd through side streets lined with beautiful Spanish terraced houses.
At one point I genuinely wondered whether we had got off at the wrong stop.
Then suddenly, after around five or seven minutes of walking, we saw the town hall in the distance.
Church bells rang through the streets.
And instantly everything changed.
The atmosphere softened.
The sandstone buildings glowed warmly in the sunshine.
Tiny independent shops appeared around every corner.
It felt authentic, lived-in, and beautifully imperfect.
Over the years, returning again and again allowed me to notice far more than I did on that first visit. The architecture. The interiors. The shutters left open in the heat. The textures of old stone walls. The hidden courtyards overflowing with plants.
Santanyí slowly reveals itself to you.
That is part of its charm.
The Basket Man of Santanyí
Every year, the very first thing that excites me is seeing “The Basket Man.”
I have absolutely no idea what his shop is really called, but to me that name fits perfectly.
Outside his quaint little shop hang hundreds of woven straw bags in every imaginable size, shape, and colour. Some are beautifully simple while others are vibrant and playful.
Every year I buy something from him.
And every year I tell myself it will be the last straw bag I need.
It never is.
But hidden inside the shop is something even better: handmade espadrilles.
Honestly, they are the most comfortable summer shoes I have ever owned. The soft suede moulds perfectly to your feet as though they were custom-made.
I once heard the factory producing them worries about its future because younger generations are no longer interested in traditional craftsmanship. Everyone wants modern careers and “cool” jobs instead.
And while I understand that times change, I hate the idea of beautiful workmanship disappearing.
There is something deeply meaningful about handmade products created with skill, patience, and heritage behind them.
Ironically, I think younger generations could actually elevate these traditional brands massively if they embraced social media and modern storytelling while preserving the craftsmanship itself.
People are craving authenticity more than ever.
Terracuita Cerámica Mallorca: My Little Piece of Heaven
If the Basket Man excites me, then Terracuita Cerámica Mallorca feels like absolute heaven.
As an interior stylist, this shop speaks directly to my soul.
The ceramics are rustic, handmade, and perfectly imperfect — exactly the aesthetic I adore when creating warm Mediterranean-inspired dining spaces at home.
Each year I visit, my collection somehow grows.
I have balanced heavy ceramic plates in hand luggage more times than I care to admit, praying they survive the flight home intact. And when they do, it feels like a ridiculous but satisfying accomplishment.
The beauty of these ceramics lies in their individuality. No two pieces feel exactly the same.
You simply cannot recreate that authenticity with mass-produced homeware.
The Santanyí branch actually has two separate shops. One focuses on brighter printed ceramics full of colour and pattern, while the other embraces a more rustic old-Spanish style with earthy tones and textured finishes.
Even on the hottest days, the rooms inside remain naturally cool.
Downstairs, across a beautiful courtyard, there is a small café and restaurant where I once had the freshest orange juice I have ever tasted. It was cold, sharp, sweet, and unbelievably refreshing after wandering through the heat.
Later we returned to sit quietly in the courtyard with hot chocolate and banana cake.
Moments like that stay with you.
Not because they are extravagant.
But because they feel peaceful.
The Hidden Gems of Santanyí
One of my favourite things about Santanyí is discovering the quieter corners hidden away from the main streets.
There is an old pharmacy tucked just off the town centre that I always peek into. It feels untouched by modern minimalism, filled with old scales, antique shelving, and beautiful details that instantly transport you backwards in time.
I often wonder why shops today have lost so much character.
Everything now feels polished, identical, and sterile.
Places like this remind you that imperfections and history are what create atmosphere.
Then there is the Mallorca salt shop — another yearly ritual.
Twice I have walked out of there slightly tipsy after tasting homemade Mallorcan spirits. Anything infused with lemon or orange instantly wins me over.
Years ago, I was gifted a perfume in Santanyí that still has the power to emotionally transport me straight back to Mallorca and Sicily whenever I wear it.
That is the strange power of scent and travel.
A single fragrance can hold entire memories inside it.
Lunch at Alchemy Restaurante
After trying various places over the years, we eventually found the restaurant we kept returning to: Alchemy Restaurante.
There was something about it that felt relaxed and welcoming without trying too hard.
And the food was incredible.
My usual order became almost ritualistic:
- Patatas Bravas de Barcelona
- Small chicken skewers with teriyaki sauce
- Garlic prawns
- Bread, alioli, and olives
One year I also ordered Padrón peppers with smoked pepper salt alongside a jug of sangria, and honestly, I could have sat there forever.
That restaurant became my reset button.
Sitting outside watching the world pass by allowed me to reconnect with parts of myself that often become buried beneath everyday responsibilities.
There is something beautiful about sitting silently amongst the bustle of life while feeling entirely content within yourself.
Why I Avoided Market Day in Santanyí
Interestingly, despite Santanyí market being famous, I usually avoided visiting on market day.
While I appreciated the fresh produce, handmade goods, antiques, and artwork, I personally found the atmosphere too crowded and less authentic than the quieter days.
I preferred seeing the real rhythm of the town rather than the version curated for tourists.
Ironically, one of my favourite discoveries happened when wandering away from the market crowds entirely.
Hidden around a quiet corner was an old wine shop unlike any I had seen before.Its called Vinos Artesanos Binissalem
Large barrels lined the walls filled with local wines.
I always bought a sweet muscat wine which was absolutely delicious. The woman would carefully fill the bottle before tapping a cork firmly into place by hand.
Sadly, during my most recent visit, the shop was closed.
And honestly, that made me unexpectedly emotional.
Returning Back to Cala D’Or
By the time evening arrived, my shopping bags were heavy,my feet were tired, and the bus stop called me home.
But by then, something else would happen too.
I would suddenly miss George intensely.
As much as I cherished my little escape day, nothing compared to the feeling of returning to him afterwards and hearing about his adventures with the grandparents. Seeing his little happy face upon any return makes my heart swell with love every time.
So back onto the bus I would go.
Tired.
Happy.
Slightly sun-kissed. Maybe a little tipsy, depending on how much Sangria was drank (Not much is required)
And somehow emotionally lighter than when we arrived.
The Golden Sandstone of Santanyí
One thing I always noticed about Santanyí was how the buildings seemed softer and lighter than in many other Mallorcan towns.
Almost golden.
That is because Santanyí is famous for its sandstone quarries.
The warm honey-coloured stone found here has been used in some of Mallorca’s most iconic buildings, including Palma Cathedral and La Llotja.
Even today, Santanyí stone continues to be quarried.
And honestly, I think that golden sandstone is a huge part of what gives the town its gentle glow and unmistakable atmosphere.
The Mediterranean Life That Added A New Chapter
Over the years, Mallorca quietly changed me.
Not through luxury.
Not through extravagance.
But through simplicity.
It taught me that life does not need to be rushed to be meaningful.
That joy can exist in fresh bread, ceramic plates, church bells, sea air, slow lunches, and watching strangers pass by from a café courtyard.
Even if I never return to Santanyí again, this little town has already left something permanent behind in me, and is a part of who I am and George.
A reminder to slow down.
Romanticise ordinary life.
To appreciate craftsmanship and tradition.
Spend more time around the table.
To seek beauty in simplicity.
And perhaps most importantly, to remember that feeling whole often requires FAR LESS THAN WE THINK. . .
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