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After Monocle’s 2025 planning session in Zürich this past week, I exited stage left and, instead of returning to London, went back to Palma de Mallorca. In Europe at this time of year, flying just a couple of hours south can feel akin to time travel, returning you from the early throes of autumn to summer again. On the first morning I awoke to a big blue sky and the pleasant sound of tennis being played on the clay courts of the Palma Sport & Tennis Club that sits in front of my home. Birkenstocks and shorts were ready for an October encore.
As the other half was on hound duty in London, I had the apartment, and the days, to myself. I messaged a few friends to see who was around and my dance card was soon organised for dinners and drinks. But when life gives you these social firebreaks, it’s also good to have no plans, to see where the day, and the road, takes you. To find some joy in being alone.
In the slow, complicated process of getting to know a place, we all find ways of navigating a town, a city. I like to walk, to read Palma through its rich architecture, its design, its galleries (well, the good ones). It’s the same with the island. I drive to a town I don’t know, find a café, say hello to people and track down interesting buildings. My partner is more than happy for these expeditions to be undertaken solo.
On Sunday, even after a late night with Chiara and Roberto, I was in the car by 09.00. The architect Antoni Alomar built two churches in Mallorca in the 1960s, both in the southeast of the island. They are modernist beauties – concrete, warm timber, vast volumes, reimagined iconography, simplicity and adornment carefully calibrated. The only problem is getting in. The churches are only open if there’s a service, which is rare, and the last thing that a priest wants is some architecture junkie wandering around taking pictures when he’s trying to conjure up the sublime. “Don’t mind me!”
I had already managed to visit the church at Es Llombards and now wanted to see the one in the seaside town of Colonia de Sant Jordi. Yet again the satnav wouldn’t play ball, so by the time I arrived the priest was already in full swing. I waited and the moment the parishioners started departing, slipped in. The priest was deep in religious chat but there was a caretaker-come-bellringer. I explained my mission. Could I walk around, perhaps take some pictures? He beamed. He loved this place. He took me to see a side chapel and showed me where I could get a better view of the walled garden. Then, while he replaced a large statue of Christ on the altar and made everything shipshape, he left me to sit, to look, to be alone. I marvelled at the kindness of strangers and at how uplifting and entrancing the work of an architect making village churches some 60 years ago could be. Thoughts soared. Although I could have done without the parking ticket.
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Finally, the last call for your flight to Istanbul. This time next week, team Monocle and the delegates and speakers at the Monocle Quality of Life Conference will be tucking in to a tasty Turkish breakfast (“I’ll have the menemen eggs, please, and at least two coffees”). Now, if you shake a leg, rather than malingering under the duvet, you too could be having a side order of freshly baked bread and honey in our fine company. There are still a few tickets available. All you need to do is get your credit card out and visit monocle.com/conference or, if you need any assistance, contact my colleague Hannah Grundy, our events supremo, at hg@monocle.com.
Oh, and here’s why you should come. We’ll have a masterclass on branding, insights from entrepreneurs with dynamic companies, deep briefings on global security, unique access to our host city, the opportunity to meet a triumvirate of mayors with powerful personal stories and much, much more. Plus, there will be a great reception, fun dinner and no doubt some late-night dancing (hence those coffees). Oh, and Istanbul. Last-minute decisions can be life changers. Come.