A nice house in Palma

I climb the wide stone steps from the Royal Garden, sweating a little in the Mallorcan sun, turn a corner and there it is. La Seu, this hulking Gothic beast of a cathedral, rising out of Palma’s old town like it owns every cobblestone in sight.

Then I hear a sullen voice from an American tourist nearby, “That’s a nice house”. And just like that, the magic is gone.

The cathedral is dominating the horizon.

Still, I walk up to the “nice house”. Enter by the old wooden door, through centuries of dust and prayers. The morning sunlight pours through the beautiful rose window from the 14th century, one of the world’s largest Gothic church windows. It throw prisms across the tall stone pillars, turning the worn floor into shards of color.

Above the altar, Gaudí’s baldachin from 1912 looms, a metal and wood dream hovering like it couldn’t decide if it belonged in a church or a forest.

“A nice house”.

Then the organ kicks in. Deep and cavernous, vibrating through walls and bones alive. The air vibrates with choir voices. A mass in full motion. It is said that Mallorca’s great artist Joan Miro used to come here every day and listen to the organ music as inspiration.

The beauty of Marina Port in Palma.

Then I hear the same American tourist once again, “This is like five thousand years old or whatever”.

And I choose to smile. Because maybe it is, in spirit. Because nothing ages like awe.