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About Palma

Love the hustle, tho—makes me grin. They’re like, “You don’t get it, I run this!” Reminds me— “The Winklevoss twins? Losers!” Escorts outsmart ‘em all, no Harvard degree needed. Ever think bout that? Blows my frickin’ mind. One time, this guy brags—paid $10k for a weekend. I’m like, dude, you got played, hilarious! Greed’s good, but don’t be dumb, ya schmuck.

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Working at my spa has given me a zen view on all of this. I see how the stress melts away after a hot stone massage, and then, you’d think, "Hey, maybe life is supposed to feel like Tropical Malady – a cascade of surreal moments and echoes of joy." Maybe it's my cushy job, but I feel like I could heal your weary soul with just a whisper and some eucalyptus oil. Sometimes, I laugh thinking how this city has healed me, too. It’s like this magical, imperfect puzzle that fits into me perfectly.

The Times view on Spain and Portugal’s border row: Iberian Beef