Live on Olive Coast

A haven for package holiday-loving Brits, Majorca is often dismissed as nothing more than a hot spot for knotted hankies and News Of The World. Not so, enthusiast Lucia Graves, daughter of the poet Robert Graves, who spent her childhood in the beautiful village of Deia on the northeast of the island. This month sees the paperback release of her first book A Woman Unknown, Voices From A Spanish Life; the story of her life, interwoven against the rich and inspired landscape of Deia. In our guest feature, Lucia convinces us that, contrary to popular belief, Majorca isn't just straight out of a brochure.
Between the mountains and the sea
Somewhere in the middle of a high mountain range on the north-west coast of Majorca is a village of pale brown stone houses, clustered round a small hill. On the top of the hill, overlooking the Mediterranean, stand the Church of St John the Baptist and the graveyard; at its foot, level with the main road, is the Town Hall. Olive groves surround the village and the occasional tall palm tree lends it an exotic air.
Even after all these years, the first sight of Deia as you approach it from Palma still impresses me. After driving through a landscape of olive groves and oak woods, with only a few glimpses of the blue sea in the distance, you come round a wide corner and are suddenly confronted with a full view of the Mediterranean, its jagged coast of white and grey rocks stretching northwards. A moment later, you are driving down into the wide valley of Deia, crowned by the rocky heights of the Teix, a 3000ft-high ridge, whose brooding presence over the valley prevents the sun from reaching the houses until late morning. The valley is patterned throughout by endless lines of olive terraces - built by the Arabs who ruled the island between the 10th and the 13th centuries - and as you get closer, orange and lemon groves become visible. Here and there, near the village or in its outskirts, large old farmhouses, more like country mansions, stand out like oases against the pale olive groves. One of these is now the well-known luxury hotel, La Residencia.
Off the tourist track
Deia was, of course, a perfect place to grow up in, especially in the quiet days before tourism, when the fisherman's cove was deserted and there were no cars on the road. Peasants ploughed their land with mules and the fishwife walked up from the cove with her basket of brightly coloured fish, blowing a conch to announce her arrival in the village square. Olives were picked and turned into thick, golden oil, and large flocks of sheep roamed around the mountainside. Village life was ruled entirely by agricultural cycles, as it had been for centuries, and nothing seemed to stir its peace.
The sudden arrival of tourism in the early Sixties changed all that. Since then, there has been a steady increase in visitors, and numerous foreigners (mainly artists, writers and media professionals) have taken up residence in the village, or have made it their second home; the villagers have abandoned the ploughs and the olive picking to make a better living through the tourist trade. But its rocky coast and mountainous terrain have saved it from becoming a popular resort, like the over-developed ones that abound on other coastal areas of Majorca, and strict building regulations have managed to keep its ancient look almost intact.
Wanderings
The Cala, a small pebbly cove, can now be reached by car and you can enjoy fresh fish, salads or a delicious potato omelette in either of its two restaurants. But in the summer the beach tends to get very crowded during the day, and I prefer to go down early, at sunrise, when the only other visitors are two cormorants who breakfast on the small fish by the shore. On a calm summer's day it is an unforgettable experience to explore the coast on either side of the small harbour, by boat or dinghy, and observe the curious shapes of the rocks, the changing colours of the sea, the pink or purple of the reefs.
There are some fascinating walks too - you can pick up useful guidebooks in the main village shop, but don't attempt to climb the Teix without an experienced local guide. One of my favourite excursions is the short walk through the pine woods above the Cala, at the end of which stands a 17th century look-out tower, a round, sturdy, military construction, from which the watchmen would scan the sea and the coast for the sight of approaching Berber pirates. Another is the long but relatively easy walk following the old mule-track to Soller, high above the main road, with the reward of fantastic views and perhaps some tasty tapas when you finally arrive at Soller square.
Fiesta culture
But Deia has its own thriving caf and restaurant life, and there is always an exhibition at one of the galleries, to channel the works of its resident artists. A music festival runs throughout the summer with concerts in a palatial country house overlooking the coast, from which you can watch the sun setting in the sea as you listen to the music.
Of the local fiestas that mark the religious calendar, my favourite is the Three Kings, on 5 January, when from the churchyard you suddenly catch sight of three rows of pink flares making their way down the dark mountainside and a while later the three Magi and their attendants, all in colourful garb, lead the procession up to the Church, carrying presents for the village children. Or the bonfires lit on the Eve of Saint Anthony, 16 January, when bread and local sausages are toasted and eaten with a glass of good Majorcan red wine.
Sometimes, when I am walking back home in the moonlight and can see the olive groves in the distance bathed in pale light, or when I sit out on the terrace, watching the mountains turn pink in the sunset, I feel I am back in the quiet days of my childhood. Nothing, on the surface, appears to have changed.
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