Mallorca Mornings, Madrid Midnights: Our Unforgettable Journey Through Spain

Day 1 – Touchdown, Transit, and the Third Bag Saga

We landed in Mallorca after what can only be described as a marathon of transit. Somewhere around 4.5 hours of sleep on the plane—not quite enough to feel human, just enough to function. The kind of arrival where you’re running on adrenaline, jet lag, and airport snacks.

The main stressor of the day? Janice, aka Jesse’s infamous third bag. She’s made appearances before, but European airlines don’t mess around with baggage rules. We were very aware that we were pushing it. Every time an airline employee looked at us too long, we froze, thinking they’d call us out. Somehow, miraculously, we made it through with no issues—but our nerves were shot.

The rest of the day was a blur: navigating the car rental pickup, checking into our hotel, trying not to fall asleep before dinner. We walked around a little to orient ourselves and fought the intense urge to nap.

Tip: If you’re arriving in Europe with extra bags, consolidate in advance. Budget airlines often enforce size/weight limits more strictly than U.S. carriers, and excess baggage fees can really hurt. Also, pick an evening activity that doesn’t require much brainpower—like a walk, or an easy dinner reservation.

Day 2 – Village Charm, Rocky Beaches, and a Worth-It Finale

We hit the ground running today—maybe a little too hard. Driving in Mallorca is no joke. We navigated narrow, winding mountain roads, white-knuckling our way around hairpin turns and cliffs with zero guardrails. Beautiful? Yes. Stressful? Also yes.

First stop: Valldemossa, where we grabbed coffee and almond milk slushies in a storybook town tucked into the hills. It was peaceful, charming, and had that perfect European stillness where time slows down.

Next, we made our way to Cala Deià, hoping for a scenic beach day. Big mistake. The beach was small, rocky, and crowded. Not the tranquil paradise we were dreaming of. While the town of Deià had some lovely views, the roads were terrifying—incredibly narrow with sharp drops. We didn’t linger.

Hoping to turn the day around, we tried Cala Agulla. The water was that perfect turquoise blue, but it was jam-packed with people, and the waves were rough. Swimming was more of a battle than a pleasure. We did stop at Zumbo, where we had a green smoothie and a green bowl—simple but satisfying.

Our patience finally paid off at Cala Gran Bay. This was the moment. Calm, crystal-clear water, minimal crowds, soft sand. We swam, we floated, we finally relaxed. It was everything we’d been chasing all day.

Dinner that night was unforgettable: Sabores de Sandra, a vegan restaurant with incredibly flavorful dishes. The fake chicken burrito and red curry were both 10/10. We left happy, full, and slightly sunburned.

Tip: When beach hopping in Mallorca, prioritize calas with calmer surf and sandier shores—like Cala Gran or Es Trenc (later in our trip). Bring reef shoes for rocky entries, and if you’re driving, mentally prepare for narrow roads—take your time and pull over for locals.

Day 3 – Cathedral Awe, Pride Vibes, and Clubbing (Kind Of)

We were up at 8am, slightly groggy but excited. First stop: La Seu, the famous Palma Cathedral. We booked tickets in advance through GetYourGuide (a must), and even before stepping inside, the exterior took our breath away—grand Gothic architecture bathed in soft morning light. Inside, it was even more mesmerizing. Vaulted ceilings, colorful stained glass, and centuries of history. A woman from Thailand even stopped to compliment our hair, which made our whole morning.

Afterwards, we wandered through Palma’s old town, caffeinated and soaking up the vibe. We grabbed an açaí bowl for lunch, which was a little too much granola and not enough balance, but we were hungry and it hit the spot.

In a spontaneous move, we took the public bus (gasp!) to Cala Major Beach. It worked surprisingly well, though the beach was a bit too crowded and loud for our mood. We stayed an hour, watched people dance and splash in the surf, then moved on.

Later, we caught the tail end of the Palma Pride parade—missed the main show but stayed for a fun little stage performance. One of the dancers—a twink with energy for days—totally stole the spotlight.

We toyed with the idea of clubbing, but the logistics weren’t working in our favor. Late start times, high cover charges, expensive Ubers. I opted to stay in, order Bon Thai (our go-to), and crash. Jesse, on the other hand, rallied and hit up Wave Club, rolling in around 5am like a legend. Respect.

Tip: For big attractions like La Seu, book skip-the-line tickets. And if you’re not a big clubber, Mallorca offers plenty of lower-key nightlife—sunset bars, beach lounges, and cafés with live music. Bon Thai is a fantastic vegan-friendly delivery option in Palma.

Day 4 – Es Trenc Bliss and Second-Helpings of Thai

We let ourselves sleep in—well-deserved—and hit the road to Es Trenc, a beach known for its white sand and clear, shallow water. The parking lot is set far back, so be prepared to hike about a mile to the shore. Of course, we got lost (classic us), but a kind couple helped redirect us.

And wow—so worth it. This was the beach we’d been dreaming about. No sharp rocks, no crashing waves, just calm, blue water and soft sand stretching for what felt like forever. We stayed about an hour, floating and sunbathing, completely at peace.

Back in Palma, we grabbed lunch at Natur Beach in Ca’n Pastilla. The fake chicken salad and açaí bowl were excellent—finally a bowl that wasn’t just a mountain of granola. After eating, we wandered over to Ca’n Pastilla Beach, which was less picturesque but much quieter. It was a welcome change—no fighting for a spot, no screaming kids. Just us, the sun, and the breeze.

For dinner? You guessed it—Bon Thai again. It’s official: we’re regulars. Same order, same satisfaction. After a long day in the sun, it hit just right.

Tip: Get to Es Trenc early to avoid crowds and bring plenty of water—the hike in can get hot. Natur Beach is a must for plant-based travelers, and Ca’n Pastilla Beach is a good low-key spot to unwind after a more intense beach experience.

Mallorca, in just a few days, gave us winding roads, rocky starts, white-sand perfection, and a string of incredible vegan meals. The stress was real, but so was the joy.

And then we took a break from Spain and went to Marrakech, Morocco (see that in our post https://www.borderlessbros.com/mystical-marrakech-a-journey-through-color-spice-and-soul/ )

Day 9 – Sleep, Sundia, and the Church of FABRIK

Today didn’t even begin until the evening. After partying well into the early hours the night before, we slept like the dead. Curtains drawn, phones on silent—Madrid could’ve burned down and we wouldn’t have noticed. We woke up around 4pm, groggy but buzzing from the memories of the night before. It was one of those sleep-ins where your body resets but your soul still feels like it’s dancing.

By 6pm, we rallied. Showers, glitter, hydration, protein bars, whatever it took—we got ourselves together and made our way back to FABRIK for the Sundia party. The venue is about 40 minutes outside of central Madrid, tucked into this industrial zone, but once you arrive, it feels like a different universe. Massive open-air courtyards, multiple sound stages, laser shows that slice through the night like starbursts, and bass that vibrates through your chest like a second heartbeat. It honestly gave Brooklyn Mirage a run for its money—except this was bigger, hotter, and somehow even more surreal.

From 6pm to 5am, we partied nonstop. Danced with our friends, reconnected with people we’d met earlier in the week, and got pulled into circles of strangers who felt like soulmates for a song or two. The music spanned from deep tribal house to high-octane techno, and the energy was relentless. There were moments of pure bliss—eyes closed, arms up, sweat dripping, and not a single worry in the world. It wasn’t just a party; it felt like a spiritual reset, the kind of night you chase but rarely catch. We left exhausted but glowing.

Day 10 – Pride, Home Cooking, and FABRIK: The Sequel

We woke up sore but exhilarated. The kind of post-party ache that reminds you your body is still alive and capable of joy. Today was Pride in Madrid, and the streets were absolutely alive with color, music, and humanity. We joined the crowd for a bit, soaking in the rainbow sea of celebration, but to be honest, we were still running on fumes. After about 20 minutes, we made the call to head home.

Once back, we did something that felt just as grounding as dancing all night—we cooked. In our little Airbnb kitchen, we made a simple but nourishing dinner: steamed broccoli, sautéed lentils, and crispy seitan strips. It was exactly what we needed—something that felt like care in the form of food.

Then… the night called again.

At 2:30am, we were back in an Uber to FABRIK. It was like returning to a holy site. We weren’t sure we had another night in us, but once we walked in and felt the energy—that was it. The crowd felt even more global tonight. I ended up meeting incredible people from Africa, Brazil, Buenos Aires, and honestly, corners of the world I’ve only dreamed about visiting. Each interaction felt like a spark—quick, intense, and genuine.

We danced until 7am. It was euphoric. Somewhere around hour four, I had this moment where I realized how rare it is to feel this free—just completely unburdened. It was the most I’ve danced, the most I’ve let go, in years. FABRIK didn’t just deliver; it healed. We left exhausted, again, but smiling. Madrid has a pulse unlike anywhere else, and right now, it’s synced with mine.

Day 11 – Crashing Gently & Sabbath Tears

Today was for the crash. And I mean the full, unapologetic kind. We didn’t even pretend to make plans. We stayed in, stretched out, and ordered vegan Chinese food—fried tofu, rice noodles, dumplings, and some kind of spicy broccoli dish that gave us life.

Jesse made a brief trip to an afterparty but came back quickly. I think even he had reached his limit. While he was gone, I curled up with my phone and let myself dive into something deeply personal—I started watching footage from Black Sabbath’s final concert in Birmingham.

It wrecked me. I cried—a lot. It’s hard to put into words the emotional weight that band carries for me. Sabbath and Ozzy have been part of my soul since I was pre-teen. They’ve scored the backdrop to some of my most formative moments—soundtracked joy, pain, rebellion, healing. Watching them take that final bow on their home turf… I felt like I was grieving something bigger than just a band. It was like saying goodbye to a part of myself. I had so badly wanted to be there, to witness it in person, but the timing and logistics just never aligned.

Even so, watching those videos was like being there in spirit. The crowd chants, Ozzy’s voice cracking with emotion, Tony’s guitar like a war cry—it was overwhelming. I felt all of it.

And maybe it was the post-party come-down, or maybe it was the tenderness of a body and soul fully spent, but I let myself cry hard. The kind of cry that empties and fills you at the same time.

Madrid, you broke us in the best way.