
The stripes on the sheets: a short defence of the siesta
At four o’clock the whole valley goes quiet. Tomeu on why we close the shutters, stop the music and let the afternoon do its work.
Finca hotel · Bunyola, Mallorca
Twelve rooms in a 1740 almond farm at the foot of the Tramuntana. Twenty minutes from Palma, and a long way from everything else.
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Bunyola, 20:47The house sits where the plain meets the mountains, so the light arrives late and leaves later.
I — The house
Aina’s grandfather pressed olive oil here until 1971. When we came back in 2009 the roof had fallen in among the almonds and the swallows had the vaults. It took six years, two stonemasons from Selva and more lime than we care to admit to bring it back, room by room, without making it new.
Today it is twelve rooms around a courtyard, a kitchen garden, a pool cut into the old threshing floor and four hectares of olive and almond terraces. No televisions, no conference room, no wristbands. Breakfast runs late.
Aina & Tomeu FerrerYour hosts, who live in the house across the yard
II — The rooms
Thick walls, lime plaster, linen woven in Santa Maria and nothing on the walls that blinks. Every rate includes a long breakfast and the boat to the cala on Saturdays.
Ground floor, lime-plastered walls and a door straight out onto the olive terraces. The sun comes in low and sideways in the morning, and stays for breakfast.
A sitting room built around the original stone pillar, marble mortars from the old kitchen, and a linen sofa nobody has left in under an hour.
Up the stone stair of the old lookout tower. Shutters on three sides; within a day you’ll tell the time by the stripes of light on the sheets.
Built over the old rain cistern. Open the green shutters and the pool is six steps away; the bay is a little further, and loveliest at six.




Breakfast until 11, later if you askBicycles and the Saturday boat includedChildren over 12 welcomeTwo rooms with step-free access
III — The table
Marga Bestard grew up two valleys over and cooks what the kitchen garden and the boats at Port de Sóller send up that day. There’s a long table if you’d like company, and the terrace if you wouldn’t.
Outside guests are welcome at dinner, Thursday to Saturday. Call (555) 0147-2290 after ten.
IV — The pool and gardens
Lined in honey-coloured marès stone and shaded by a carob older than the house. Beyond it: three hundred olive trees, a kitchen garden of forty-odd varieties, figs, lemons and a hammock nobody admits to owning.
A day at the finca
The pool is still in the shade of the carob, and so is the coffee.
Breakfast runs until eleven: eggs from the yard, ensaïmada, the cistern tree.
Tumbet, cold rosé from Binissalem, nobody in a hurry.
The house goes quiet and the shutters close. So should you.
Walk the almond terraces while the mountains turn the colour of apricots.
One menu from the wood oven, on the terrace, under the swifts.
V — The island
Tomeu has spent fifty summers working out which cala to swim at, and when. Ask at breakfast and he’ll draw you a map on a napkin. Or use this one.
Swim out to the rocks while the water is still glass, then grilled prawns at the shack above the cove. We pack towels and a flask.
The 1912 train stops in Bunyola, six minutes from our gate. Ride it through thirteen tunnels to the orange valley, then the tram down to the port.
Behind the cathedral the old houses keep their courtyards open on weekday mornings. Aina’s cousin walks guests through on Tuesdays.
Prensal Blanc and Mantonegro at a family bodega, lunch in the barrel room. Joan drives; you won’t want to.
The island’s oldest market: almonds, sobrassada, palm baskets and a man selling lambs. Go before ten and bring cash.
Five kilometres of pale sand and not a building on it. Arrive at six and stay until the salt flats turn pink.
VI — Journal

At four o’clock the whole valley goes quiet. Tomeu on why we close the shutters, stop the music and let the afternoon do its work.
Lime, water, a pinch of salt and three days with every window open. A spring ritual, and why the walls breathe better for it.
It took three summers to get the measurements out of her. The secret is the order of the layers, and patience.
Late January to the middle of February, when the terraces go white overnight and the house is all yours.
Book your stay
Tell us your dates and which room you’re dreaming of. Aina answers every request herself, usually before breakfast.
Or call Aina on (555) 0147-2290
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