get monetary savings on travel? Cat-sitting in exchange for a free stay

I like Spain.

So when a friend of a friend who lives on the island of Mallorca asked if I could take care of her five cats in exchange for staying in her house for 2 weeks, I leapt at the prospect.

I’d never done anything like this, so I organized a video call with the homeowner, Daniella, who spoke to me from her front room within the small inland town of Binissalem.

Daniella, a business coach from Switzerland who moved to Mallorca several years ago, said she was leaving in a couple of weeks to take a training course in Arizona and needed someone trustworthy to take care of Phiro, Jabbo, Nunik, Orion and Yoda, all of whom had been rescued by her as kittens.

During warm weather, the cats mainly lived outside, she told me, so I would want to regulate them and feed them twice a day. In lieu of payment, I could stay in her ensuite guest room, and even use her automobile too.

“Do you’ve experience with cats?” Daniella asked. I needed to be honest: I hadn’t sorted them since I used to be an adolescent, but I’d all the time found my friends’ pets to be cute and good company.

I used to be excited, but somewhat nervous. I’m used to traveling solo, having visited Vietnam, Bali and Las Vegas alone, but I’d never stayed in a stranger’s home by myself on an overseas trip. I apprehensive I’d feel isolated.

But my fears were unfounded. I had a day’s handover with Daniella, who showed me around Binissalem’s center — a grid of attractive, narrow streets flanked by thick-walled stone buildings — and where a weekly market was held in a town square.

She kindly introduced me to several of her friends — English-speaking expatriates who were long settled in Mallorca — over a meal at Es P’dal, a restaurant off the square. One had made a life on the island as a celebrant officiating weddings and other ceremonies; one other was a life coach. Daniella added me to their WhatsApp group where they shared upcoming activities.

After dropping Daniella off on the airport early the following morning, my adventure as a first-time cat sitter began.

Daniella briefed me on her pets, all male and neutered, printing a photograph and summary of every: Phiro, a soft-furred ginger tabby was the youngest; Yoda, a shy green-eyed grey tabby liked to spend his days outside; Nunik, a tabby with a white belly loved to eat tuna; long-haired Orion was the key boss of the home; and black and white Jabbo regularly begged for food.

Sure enough, after driving Daniella’s white convertible from the airport through Binssalem’s one-way streets to her home, Jabbo rubbed himself against my leg and looked up at me for a treat.

I soon settled right into a routine. I’d wake around eight to the sound of the town’s church bells, then head downstairs to scrub the remnants of the cats’ evening meal before feeding them breakfast. I’d top up the dry food that they grazed on in the course of the day and make sure that that they had fresh water.

Then, I’d check the weather and if sun was forecast, I’d work on my newsletter within the morning after which head out within the afternoon to explore.

My favorite beaches included Muro on the north coast, with its turquoise sea and long strip of pale sand, and pebbly Cove S’illot, near a small restaurant with spectacular views across the Bay of Pollenca.

Returning to Binissalem, I’d check across the garden for the cats and provides them their evening meal, and on cooler evenings I’d curl up on the sofa with a furry friend for company.

Sooner or later, I took a yoga class at Bini Balance, a brief walk from my temporary home, which the teacher, Cristina, instructed in English and Spanish. Afterward, she invited me to a weekend retreat within the nearby Serra de Tramuntana mountain range that runs through the middle of the island.

I joined for a day, practicing yoga in a clearing through the trees and eating paella cooked outdoors.

My friend Holly, who’d introduced me to Daniella, invited me to creative writing classes held by creator and editor Alice LaPlante, a longtime Stanford University teacher who lives in Mallorca. I joined Holly and others in Alice’s home in Palma, the island’s delightful capital, for a lesson on short story-writing and scene description techniques. The next week, we met to debate a novel we had all read.

Holly also suggested places to eat: La Trencadora, an Italian restaurant on a quiet street in the attractive town of Pollenca, and Sa Placeta, which serves Mallorcan specialties in a shady Palma square.

But eventually, it was time to depart and return to London.

Cat-sitting made me feel like I lived on the island, and I used to be sad to depart my five latest friends.