Harry's Photography Thoughts

An amble through the centre of Mahon is a lifetime in itself, such is its power to enrich the soul with atmosphere, history and a separate sense of time. Nothing rushes there, all is patient, people live – truly ‘live’. Not in an extravagant, showy way; Mahon’s timelessness is imbued within the souls of its residents; they, too, are timeless. I first came here with love, and every time I return my love grows. To me, Mahon is a city of love, and it is a city of warmth; warmth in the stones, in the climate and, above all, in the hearts of its inhabitants. Despite being an Englishman, I do not feel out of place there whatsoever; I always feel welcome when I wander its streets, I even feel at home. I would even go as far as to argue that it is my second home, for a number of reasons. I love Mahon dearly and, though I may not even have spent a month walking its streets during my whole lifetime, it feels like I have always been there, and am there right now in my heart, despite being in Cambridge. 

I would like to guide you, now, through a photowalk around Mahon, this city I so love, that I undertook in April 2026, which I hope captures this indescribable feeling of a most golden warmth.

It was a temperate, shining Easter afternoon; the temperature and overall climate were absolutely perfect for walking, circa twenty degrees Celsius with a mild breeze. After gently wandering for some time towards the centre, I unsheathed my Praktica PM3 from my backpack upon arriving at Carreterra de Ciutadella. Here, I was utterly inspired by the geometry of the road descending upon Església de Santa Maria, as I always am when walking this particular street. Inside the camera, fittingly, was a roll of Kodak Gold 200 and, in my backpack, a spare roll of that very same film; both were bought at the delightful camera shop, Prest i Be, in the centre of Mahon, very near Plaça de s’Esplanada. 

Before, though, let us see two photographs I shot on prior days to this walk to give you a flavour of the atmosphere of Menorca at this time of year…

A shot taken right after my little visit to Prest i Be to restock on film, a view of Carrer de ses Morreres, before popping into Tabacs to buy a Coke Zero.

View of a beautiful, old Menorcan farmhouse from the bus stop on Carrer de Vassallo, near ARGOS.

From these images, we can see a baseline of pure warmth created from the meddling of the colour palettes of the city of Mahon and Kodak Gold. Here, now, I present you my photo walk from the next day:

View down Carretera de Ciutadella, culminating with the vast and profoundly beautiful church of Santa Maria. The scent of this image is orange blossom and warm tarmac; the atmosphere is unashamed peace and relaxation.

To my left, I am drawn to a patch of youthful graffiti splattered in purple and black on the grey wall.

As mentioned above, the geometry of this street always absorbs me every time I pass down it. A straight, unbending line leads straight to the Church as if the buildings, trees, balconies and even cars bow their heads towards it in reverence.

Soon, I turned left down Carrer del Sol, with the intent to walk past the museum. This street, in itself, is a work of art in its ratios, architecture and atmosphere.

Indeed, the further I descended, the more enchanted I became by the subtle snaking of this street. It winds down with silky, black scales and draws one in, adorned with traditional Menorcan windows also bowing in reverence; this time, to the Museum-once-Convent behind them.

At the end of the street, one arrives at the treasure-house that is the Museo de Menorca; whilst it is home to a multitude of masterpieces, it is impossible to argue that it is not, in its own right, a masterpiece too.

The ancient cypress trees perhaps further remind passers by how great a work of art this building is in their shape: thick, masterfully crafted paintbrushes.

My favourite angle in which to view the Museum is from Carrer d’es Frares, a delightful little side street where one can witness just how proudly and steadfastly this building stands against the azure of the harbour.

When you walk past the Museum, at the right of the entrance, you will see a low wall. Walk up to it, look out and you will see an incredible view of the harbour to your right…

And to your left. If you look very carefully, you can see the eminently mysterious Monte Toro looming far away in the background.

I spent quite some time gazing out at this wonderful view; my eye was especially drawn to this interesting split that occurred between the outdoors and an apartment window. I did not have to think at all with the camera, this view of the harbour simply composes itself in its natural proportions.

When one leaves the museum premises, they find themselves looking down Carrer d’Isabel II.

Much like the rest of Mahon, the architecture on this street is simply splendid.

Each corner, crevice and passageway contains pure magic.

Hidden along the street are secret passageways that lead to the most amazing viewpoints, Miradores, of the harbour, each offering a different perspective of both the turquoise expanse of the ocean and life in the houses below. Along the cliffs are delicately yet firmly poised houses, seemingly leaning out into the harbour. 

From these viewpoints, one may notice boats trailing up and down the water, miniature to the eye as if toys, such is the vastness of this grand harbour. I believe it is the second largest natural harbour in the world, from what I’ve heard! My favourite viewpoint, however, is a little further along the trail…

Eventually, after walking in a straight line for some time (with diversions for viewpoints), one reaches Ajuntament de Maó, the City Hall. There, one can find a beautiful view of the Church.

Upon approaching the Church, one can look right, into the late afternoon sun, at Carrer de Sant Roc, glowing brightly with spectacular warmth.

Turning left, and walking all the way past the library, brings you to this elegant, beautiful little arched passageway. Behind this is a view of dreams.

When you reach Mirador del Pont des Castell, the first thing you witness is the perfectly packaged expanse of the harbour set neatly before your eyes.

To the right, a regal, powerful vision of the centre of Mahon.

Even when leaving the viewpoint, one is met with golden warmth and pure magic. 

Walking towards the centre, one passes the Plaça de la Conquesta and is eventually greeted with this wonderful, closer view of the Claustre del Carme and its surrounding buildings.

At the bottom, near the Mercat des Peix, lies a magnificent vision of the Església del Carme, and all the vibrant hustle and bustle. To the left, one can see one of my favourite symbols of Spain: personas disfrutando del sol en una terraza.

At this point, I was very hungry and needed some fuel. I had been walking for hours, and the tiredness was beginning to set in. Naturally, being in that area, I went into La Pandería La Mejor, and got a chocolate filled Ensaïmada and a coca cola, and sat on a bench. I was planning on eating quickly and moving back onto my photo walk straight after, perhaps passing through the Claustre on my way to photograph more viewpoints of the harbour. But, rather suddenly and unexpectedly, I found myself with company…

An elderly man sat down next to me, and offered me a cigarette. Naturally I declined, as I do not smoke, so he sat next to me and smoked; I did not mind as it seemed very fitting with the atmosphere. He began a conversation with me, which was a challenge. He, an elderly Menorcan man, was speaking to me in Menorquín, the unique local dialect, and very limited English. As an English man with limited Spanish and very limited catalan, it was a good challenge for both of us. In fact, I tried several times to reply in Spanish but he corrected me multiple times with something like, ‘no… no… no parlo castellano (or castellà? Or something else? Still, I understood the message). It was fascinating, as whilst we had very limited language commonalities, we still understood each other. I learned that for decades he was a shoe maker (one of Menorca’s most famous trades), and that the very shoes he was wearing were hand made… by him: a fine pair of black loafers! He quizzed me about my shoes (I was wearing my trusty tan loake brogues) and my job etc. We talked about other things, both talking very slowly, until he was picked up in a car, clearly the purpose of his sitting on the bench. In hindsight, I should have asked for a photo of him, but some things are better left unphotographed and rather archived in memory.

After talking with this fascinating acquaintance, Bernat, I believe was his name if memory serves correctly, I finished my Ensaïmada and went on my way, realising that there was no need to go take many more photos. Now, I will show you my final photos of the walk, both of which are firm favourites.

View of Carrer d’Anuncivay

A view from Carrer de sa Comèdia

As I come to the close of this article, the natural conclusion coming to my mind is a short poem, one which has been bubbling away in my mind throughout the duration of writing this article:

A city can never grow old

If its streets are lined with gold,

If its people are golden souls,

Warm, overflowing bowls

Of kindness and love;

Thus shall the city be blessed with sunshine from above.

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