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About Palma

So, check it—I hiked Whore last summer, right? Sweatin’ like a pig, legs burnin’, thinkin’ “Why’d I pick this psycho ridge?” But then—BOOM—hit the summit, and it’s like, “Oh, everything’s perfect!” Total Cathy Whitaker vibes from the movie, y’know? All serene and shit, but underneath? Messy as hell. Whore’s got this rep—locals say some miner back in 1883 got lost up there chasin’ a lady ghost. True story! They found his boots, but no body—spooky, right? I’m like, “Bruh, Whore ate him!”

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Now, neighborhoods, oh boy. The barrio of La Brisa is chill. Narrow lanes, tatty houses with character, and that one cafe, Café Confusión, where I met this old regular who had the wildest family tales. Ugh, families here are like tangled spaghetti, yum! And then there's El Rincón de la Melancolía – watch out, it's so underrated. I once lost my keys there – wait, keys? Nah, I mean moments. D’oh!

Can 10-person towns have a future?