Every time our ship glides into the vast Bay of Palma and I catch my first glimpse of La Seu cathedral rising like a golden crown above the harbor, something settles in my chest — a kind of homecoming. This is the capital of the Balearic Islands, Spain's sunlit jewel in the Mediterranean, and from the moment you step off the ship you feel it: the warm stone underfoot, the salt breeze mixing with orange blossom, the gentle hum of a city that's been welcoming travelers for centuries.

The cruise terminal sits about six kilometers from the old town — an easy ten-minute shuttle ride or a leisurely waterfront stroll if you're in no hurry. I never am. The walk along the Paseo Marítimo sets the rhythm for everything that follows: unhurried, sun-drenched, Mediterranean in the best possible way.

La Seu: Four Centuries in the Making

La Seu cathedral is one of Europe's largest Gothic cathedrals, and when you stand beneath its vaulted ceiling you understand why it took nearly four hundred years to build. Construction began in 1229, the very year King James of Aragon reclaimed Mallorca from Moorish rule, and the cathedral rose on the site of what had been a grand mosque. They didn't finish until 1601 — seventeen generations watched this building grow, stone by stone, window by window, into something that still takes your breath away.

The rose window is one of the largest stained glass windows in the world, and twice a year — on February 2nd and November 11th — the morning sun aligns perfectly so the light streams through the eastern window and projects its twin on the opposite wall. I've never timed my visit to catch that miracle, but even on ordinary mornings the light inside La Seu is extraordinary.

What moves me most, though, is Antoni Gaudí's work here. Between 1903 and his early departure after disputes with the bishop, Gaudí created the remarkable wrought-iron "Crown of Thorns" canopy that hangs above the altar — a tangle of thorns and light that feels alive, almost breathing. It's vintage Gaudí: organic, unexpected, somehow both reverent and wildly imaginative. Standing beneath it, you're suspended between the medieval builders who spent lifetimes here and the modernist genius who left his mark in just a few short years.

Bellver Castle: A Circle in the Sky

From the cathedral I usually make my way up to Castell de Bellver, Spain's only circular Gothic castle, perched 112 meters above sea level with views that seem to stretch to infinity. Built for King James II in the early 1300s, it took only nine years to complete — a blink of an eye compared to La Seu. The symmetry is beautiful: a perfect circle with three towers and one free-standing keep, all connected by a moat that once made the castle virtually impregnable.

Over the centuries Bellver has served as royal residence, military prison, and even a mint. Since 1936 it's been the city history museum, and wandering its cool stone corridors on a hot afternoon feels like stepping out of time. But honestly, I come mostly for the rooftop views — 360 degrees of Palma, the bay, the distant mountains, and the endless blue Mediterranean rolling away to the horizon.

Hidden Courtyards and Ancient Baths

Back in the old town, I lose myself in the maze of narrow streets where over 200 characteristic courtyards hide behind iron gates and heavy wooden doors. Some are grand, with stone staircases curving up toward private balconies; others are simple, shaded by a single lemon tree, a fountain trickling in the corner. Each one is a pocket of cool silence in the heart of the city.

The Banys Arabs — ancient Moorish baths tucked away on a quiet side street — are easy to miss if you're not looking. But I always stop. The horseshoe arches, the soft light filtering through star-shaped openings in the dome, the sense that this space has witnessed centuries of ritual and rest: it's a reminder that Palma's history is layered, complex, woven from many threads.

The Heart of the City

Passeig des Born is the tree-lined boulevard at the heart of Palma's public life — locals strolling with their dogs, artists sketching the fountains, café tables spilling onto the sidewalk. I like to sit here with a café con leche and just watch the city move. At one end you can see the Palau de l'Almudaina, the Royal Palace rising above the harbor, its ancient walls glowing honey-gold in the afternoon sun.

And then, of course, there's lunch: pa amb oli and fresh prawns at Mercat de l'Olivar, followed by an ensaïmada pastry from Forn des Teatre — light, spiraled, dusted with powdered sugar, utterly transcendent.

Beyond the City

If time allows, I hop the vintage wooden train to Sóller, one of the most beautiful train rides in Europe. The narrow-gauge railway winds through orange groves and mountain tunnels, its 1912 carriages rattling gently as the scenery unfolds like a moving postcard. Or I'll head to the beaches — Es Trenc with its endless white sand, or the secret coves near Cala Deià where the water is so clear you can see fish darting between the rocks twenty feet down.

Palma feels like the perfect blend of grand history and easy island living — sophisticated but never stuffy, deeply rooted yet endlessly welcoming. The old town's medieval streets hide boutique shops and tapas bars, the waterfront promenade hums with morning runners and sunset strollers, and everywhere you turn there's another courtyard, another view, another reason to return. This city has been captivating travelers for centuries, and I understand why.