L'Oliverar
The olive terraces
Corner room, morning sun through half-closed shutters. A bath deep enough to read in.
The House
Nine rooms. Four centuries. One long afternoon.
Casa Lumen began as a finca in 1614. Olive presses below, grain above, and thick limestone walls that never quite let go of the morning cool.
We restored it slowly, over six years, with masons from the village and no particular deadline. What we kept: the beams, the wells, the silence. What we added: nine rooms, a pool cut from the old cistern, and a kitchen that runs on whatever the island decides to grow that week.
There is no lobby. There is a courtyard, and someone in it who knows your name.
The courtyard at dusk · October
Rooms
Rooms that ask nothing of you.
Linen, limestone, shutters. No television, by design. Each room is named for what you see from its window.
La Cisterna
The pool and the pines
Ground floor, its own patch of shade. You will hear water and not much else.
El Mirador
The sea, all of it
Top of the old tower. Forty-two steps up, worth every one at 8pm.
La Terrassa
The long terrace
A suite that opens straight onto stone and sky. Breakfast arrives where you sit.
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Days at Casa Lumen
Lunch begins at two. It ends when it ends.
Under the pergola · the table seats fourteen, slowly
The kitchen is run by Marga, who grew up two valleys over and argues with the fishermen by phone each morning. Menus are spoken, not printed. Tomatoes in August, artichokes in February, almond cake always.
Afternoons, the house empties toward the water. A path of ninety-one stone steps drops through the pines to a cove that appears on no map worth trusting. Take the canvas bag by the door. It has towels, a knife, and cold peaches in it.
Evenings are for the terrace. We light the lamps. The swallows do the rest.
MorningCoffee in the courtyard, bread still warm
Two o'clockThe long lunch under the vines
AfternoonThe cove, the pool, or nothing at all
DuskVermut on the terrace as the light goes amber
Getting Here
Forty minutes from Palma. A century from everything else.
Fly to Palma de Mallorca. From there it is a forty-minute drive north into the Tramuntana, the last ten on a road that rewards patience and second gear.
We will happily send Toni to collect you. He drives an old Land Rover, knows every blind curve by name, and will stop at the good bakery if you ask.
Seasons
April — June
Wildflowers on the terraces, sea still bracing, the island at its greenest. Our favorite, quietly.
July — August
Full summer. Long swims, long siestas, dinner at ten. Book early; the house is small on purpose.
September — October
Warm sea, soft light, grape harvest in the valley. The photographers' season.
November — March
The house rests. We reopen for the almond blossom in late January, fires lit.
Reservations
Come do very little, beautifully.
Nine rooms, three-night minimum, honest answers about availability. Write to us and Elena will reply within the day.
stay@casalumen.example+34 971 000 000