Alright look, we all know that Germans are weird. But being that I’ve never really traveled beyond our shining seas, I’ve never been properly exposed to the perpetual freakshow that is the German tourist. This past weekend in Mallorca I was thrown headfirst into this strange sea of short-shorts and sausage. Not knowing anything about the island, we booked a hostel close to the airport and five minutes from the beach. And since we were sneaking in two extra people, it was very cheap. How cheap? I slept on the floor and paid 14 euro for three nights. That cheap. We were all pumped about our hostel situation until we left to go out at 2:30 am. As we walked down the streets we realized that everyone was speaking German, all the signs were German, the food was German, and the women were German. Woof. Apparently the Germans have invaded Mallorca like it was Poland in 1939. Heyooo. Since we had only been on the island about three hours we didn’t really know where we were or where we wanted to be, so we just went to this German disco called Regine’s and decided to make the best of it. Regine’s actually worked out pretty well because they had a nice special going from 3-4 and we all ended up spending very little money, although it certainly did not feel like it the next morning. The one really strange thing about that night was that they had a lip-sync band. This wasn’t karaoke, this wasn’t “everybody get on the stage and lip-sync;” this was “let’s pay a group of people to pretend to sing, play guitar, bass, and drums while people dance to these CDs we bought.” Something about it just seemed so…German. By the way, Lola is watching AVP right now. That’s Alien vs. Predator. Anyway, don’t get me wrong: lip-syncing in front of a group of people is a lot of fun. The stellar Summer ’97 performance of “Men in Black” by Luke and I at Lakeview Pool is probably what immediately comes to most of your minds. But the weird thing was how serious they took their job. Well, the fact that it is their job is also pretty weird. At one point during the night, I made it pretty apparent that I knew the words to one song and was doing some pretty impressive fist pumping, so these German dudes thought it would be a good idea to put me on the stage. I can’t remember exactly what song it was but I’m willing to guess that it was “I Gotta Feeling,” because I’m pretty sure there's a Spanish law that says it has to be played at least one time for every other song that is played. Clearly I thought this was a great idea and proceeded to try and take my turn with the mic. Well, the “band” didn’t like it, so my proposal was rejected, and the “singer” gave me dirty looks the rest of the night. Despite all the German oddities, Thursday night was pretty awesome and we capped it off by skinny dipping in the Mediterranean and watching the sunrise from a lifeguard stand. Well, we couldn’t really see the sun because we were on the southwest side of the island, but we watched it slowly get light out. It was breathtaking.
I’m going to chalk Friday up as pretty much a waste because we still didn’t figure out how to get out of what a club promoter on the beach called “the German ghetto.” That is how spoiled I am right now; a beautiful day at the beach just isn’t enough for me. Luckily things picked up when we headed into civilization for what is starting to become a tradition in Spain: the perfect dinner. After the now traditional espresso we shot pool at a bar called “MacGowan’s.” Although it kind of dampened my sense of adventure knowing that I wasn’t the first of my clan to set foot on the island, I had fun there. I knew it was an establishment worthy of the McGowan name when they obliged my request for two road beers to bring along to our nighttime visit to the cathedral. The cathedral was beautifully lit and it was very cool just walking around while it wasn’t crowded.
What can you say about Saturday? Was it the best day ever? Period? I can’t be sure. What I am sure of is that it was the best day in Spain so far, and the two-plus hours I was in the kayak were well worth the price of admission into this gorgeous island with the slight German problem down south. We took a day trip to Porto Cristo and laid on a white beach with spectacular views and everybody spoke Spanish. Then seven of us decided to rent kayaks and snorkels to explore the cliffs and caves on the coastline. We paddled past Rafael Nadal’s house (he’s from Mallorca) and stopped at an inlet a little further up the coast where two naked couples were…swimming? We ditched the kayaks and snorkeled around a little, shaming them into getting out and putting their clothes on. There wasn’t that much to see (both snorkeling and on the old people) but it was fun to be diving in that beautiful blue-green water. After the snorkeling we climbed up on the cliffs and started debating on how deep it was and if we would suffer serious injuries if we jumped off them. Being the oldest, I did the honorable thing and decided to jump first. After all, I have to enter the work force in May don’t have as much to live for as those whippersnappers. I’m not going to lie, I was pretty nervous, but I remembered that the present is a gift, so I jumped anyway. It turned out to be really deep and everybody eventually graduated to jumping off while posing for stupid pictures. (See below). After we got back we had some food and drinks by the dive shop and marina before we had to catch the bus back to Germany. It was exactly what we were looking for in Mallorca.
Saturday night we wanted to rage so we headed back into the city in search of the disco. I followed my finger and we found one. It was fun, there were some interesting international exchanges, and we danced to some hits, most notably a Grease medley, for which I was apparently dressed perfectly. The night went well enough for me that the boys decided to push two of the beds together and let me sleep in the middle. It harkened me back to that wonderful week first year after Vic was banned and before Charley ruined everything. But really I probably slept better on the floor because one of the beds was about six inches higher than the other and I was sleeping on the crack.
We didn’t fly back until late Sunday so I just laid on the beach all day, sleeping, listening to music, and reading an excellent biography of Ben Franklin. Our favorite forefather got me thinking: in America we take pride in sharing our freedoms, classrooms, needles, purple mountains majesties, etc. with all types of people. The Spanish have welcomed me into their country and even allowed me weekend-use of their islands. As I looked around at all the giant German bellies spilling out of their tiny trunks, I realized I was more than happy to share it all with those crazy creatures. Besides, I’ve had enough good times for all of us.
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