The Other Mallorca -- Part I
|The West Coast of Mallorca (Majorca)|
Ballermann 6 (on the playa de Palma) has become so well known for its German Schlager parties in the enormous German beerhalls that the Germanization of Mallorca is hardly ignorable. Don't get me wrong: these places are great fun if you 1. know the songs and 2. um, like the songs. They're catchy and sometimes a bit dirty and of course 99% in German. I know some of the songs, so I'm almost in the group of people who like them. I've always thought the world would be a better place if we'd all--and I mean all of us--would just stop fighting and enjoy a bit of light entertainment together.
|The snack bar at Ballermann 6|
The beach is overrun with shirtless groups of young, not-exactly-fit men celebrating something or other by drinking massive amounts of alcohol and shouting their favorite songs, which are booming from their own boombox. And these songs are never the songs you like. This is almost as bad as being hardsold by a hooker.
When William the Donkey Groomer and I go to Mallorca, we spend our days hiking. Check out THIS SITE for lots more information about the Camina per Mallorca. This trip is no different even though the weather forecast is a blatant lie. It's at least 10 degrees colder than predicted, but we are nothing if not rugged.
"We need another towel," I say, coming out of our hotel bathroom with a bath towel around my neck. "I'm going to use this one as a scarf. Do you think it looks rugged enough?"
"No." William the Donkey Groomer doesn't look up. "You look like Lara from Dr. Zhivago."
|"Just over that mountain."|
"It's too far," Willam the Donkey Groomer says after we've walked for at least three hours already.
"It's just over that mountain."
"Thank you, Sir Edmund Hillary."
We turn around. The hike ends up being six hours of steep ups and downs, so I'm not bothered. But I hate not finishing what I start. Hiking to me is about reaching the destination. Blech on the notion that the journey is the destination. I've said it before, but here it is again: The goal is the goal. The path to the goal will be rocky, steep and cold--with no towel scarf--but you'll feel great once you've done what you said you were going to do. I'm not sure if I've said all that before, but there you go.
More tomorrow on The Other Mallorca.
I must be off,
Christopher Allen is the author of the absurdist satire Conversations with S. Teri O'Type, about a man struggling with expectations. Available from Amazon.