When I first set out for my move to Europe, I had intended on making my move a permanent one. I had sold all my material possessions and was determined to make it work and get the most of my experience meeting new people, mastering new languages and learning as much about the culture of my destination. I was up for any challenge big or small and would face some pretty hefty challenges with the language and cultural barriers that I would soon be faced with.
I came to Mallorca with an eccentric German woman that I had met while teaching business English. She had worked on the island and had a large circle of friends and a job already lined up with a car rental company. However, when we landed in Mallorca, I had no idea where were were going to live. It was late winter and most hotels were still closed in preparation for the coming tourist season. A friend of Eva had picked us up from the airport and drove us out to a town called Paguera on the southwest corner of the island, where we would begin our search for a place to stay.
The weather was much warmer than what I had left behind in Germany and the sun seemed blindingly bright from above. I will never forget the scent of the ocean and pine trees as we walked out of the airport in Palma. I felt a sense of excitement for the new chapter that was to begin in my new life in Europe. I honestly had not even taken the time to look on the map to even see where Mallorca was.
It was about a half hour drive to Paguera from the airport. Eva had a Mallorquin friend whose family owned a small hotel not far from the beach, on the Boulevar, which was the main street running through the sleepy little town. The hotel was under construction for the coming season, but was still booking tourists. The Hotel Beverly Playa was to be my new home for the next 3 weeks until we could find permanent housing of some sort. It was a simple hotel in a convenient location surrounded by restaurants and small bars. It was a stone's throw to the beach, where I would spend much of my time admiring the incredible view of the Mediterranean Sea.
The hotel was great for a temporary place to stay with half board (breakfast and dinner included). It was my first time eating Mallorquin cooking, which I soon found out was heavy in olive oil and garlic. My American stomach took a while to get accustomed to the olive oil though. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach from my digestive system trying to process the olive oil, which would subside in the coming weeks. My only challenge was trying to watch t.v. after 7 p.m. after a long day. The hotel entertainment outside my window down in the courtyard was a duo that would sing each night old hits from the likes of Billy Joel, Lionell Ritchie and Elton John with a slight eastern European accent. All music was played on one of those electro pianos where you push a button and the beat begins. They weren't bad, but sang the same songs everynight until midnight making an early evening to bed pointless after a long day. I couldn't turn the t.v. on loud enough to make out what was being said, so I just gave up and would hope to eventually be tired enough to pass out and sleep through it.
My 3 weeks in the hotel started to seem like 3 months from lack of sleep with our nightly entertainment going on outside. At that time, a co-worker of ours said he had a friend with an apartment to rent. It was conveniently located in Paguera, just a short walk from the main street with all the tourist action and a short 10 minute walk to the beach. It was a 7 story building that had a view of the wooded hills outside Paguera. I couldn't see the ocean, but did not care since we finally were getting out of the hotel. It was a one bedroom, fully furnished apartment with all amenities from bathtowels, dishes, t.v., washer and everything else you could ever need.
In no time, we made our move in to what was going to be our home for the coming tourist season, or so we thought. We paid our first and last month's rent which was a bit expensive for the size of the place, but I didn't care. I was happy to have a place we could call home. We requested a rental contract from the landlord which is customary in any rental agreement in Europe. The landlord responded by saying, 'we will get the contract, but the owner was currently in Germany and it would be a while before we could have anything in writing.' It was imperative to have the rental contract in order for us to register our residency to live and work in Spain (legally, I might add), so the sooner we got the contract the better.
A few months had gone by and still no rental contract. We continued asking the landlord and were always put off with the excuse being one thing or another. It was soon after that, we found out that the landlord was actually only supposed to be taking care of watering the plants at the apartment for the owners who lived in Germany. She was by no means the landlord of the apartment and to make matters worse, we heard that the actual owner of the apartment was coming to Mallorca for a two week vacation, totaly unsuspecting that someone was living in his apartment. Totally unsuspecting that the lady he trusted to water the flowers was renting out his apartment and pocketing the money.
Upon learning about our 'landlord's' scam, it was no surprised to me when she said we would not get our 1 month deposit since we were leaving without giving notice. My arguement was, 'where is that in writing?' Naturally, there was no proof of anything. It was a case of our word verses hers and with no real legal ground to stand on. We ended up kissing the deposit goodbye. Without being able to speak Spanish, I had no chance of explaining my story to the police. At that time, 'una cervesa por favor' would only get me so far.
After a few nights staying in another hotel, we found an apartment in the town of El Toro, which was a small, predomininately Mallorcquin town. The apartment complex was situated on a cliff overlooking Porto Adriano with a few hundred yachts anchored in the harbor. The apartment had a nice garden view in a quiet setting, with a breathtaking view of the Mediterranean a short distance from my front door.
It was owned by a 30 something year old Spanish man who was native of the island. It too, was a fully furnished apartment with everything you needed. I had no idea really of how much I was paying, since everything was still negotioted in Spanish pesetas and I really had no clue of the value of the Spanish currency. The Spanish insisted on discussion finances in the old currency, the peseta, although we were already all on the Euro. It just added all the more to the confusion for an American accustomed to the dollar.
I lived there with Eva, who after a few months came home one day excited about finding a different apartment through an acquaintance that was less expensive and was directly on the beach in the town of Santa Ponsa. To me, it sounded nice and I too, was excited to live directly on the ocean. The only problem was that this time, we had signed a one year lease with an early termination fee of one month's rent and losing the non-refundable deposit of an additional month. Now I am not a math whiz here, but calculating my losses from the previous apartment fiasco, along with nights spent in a hotel, losing another deposit and to pay it all again in a new place did not sound like a feasable decision. Eva on the other hand, was set on the idea and there was no chance of me changing her mind.
We made an appointment with the landlord to view the apartment the following day. We met up with the owner of the apartment, who was an elderly German man named Guenter in his late 70's. He was from Hannover, Germany and owned several apartments in Santa Ponsa. The apartment we were going to look at was in a hotel situated directly on the bay in Santa Ponsa. It was a renovated room in Hotel Verde Mar which was frequented by Irish tourists. A few of the rooms in the hotel had been sold as privately owned condos to private investors.
I knew the first moment we walked in the door of the one bedroom apartment that this was the place for me. The first thing I noticed was the view of the turquoise blue waters from the Mediterranean and sound of the water splashing on the sea wall below. I walked out to the balcony to check out the stunning view. To the left, I could see the white sand beach of Santa Ponsa full of vacationers working on their tan (or in this case, their sunburn since 90 percent of the tourists there are fair skinned from Ireland, who rarely see the sun)and to the right was the wide open sea. The harbor below was full of yachts anchored in the bay with their sails blowing in the wind. Below me, I could see the hotel guests of all shapes and sizes, with drinks in their hands soaking up the warm Spanish sun.
I spent a good 15 minutes on the balcony taking in the view before I stepped back inside to look at the apartment itself. Once I went inside, looking around I could see the apartment was of typical Spanish decor with simple furniture, t.v. and everything else you could need. Herr Guenter (in German, everything is Herr or Frau out of formality...it's just one of those German things) could see we were impressed with the apartment. At this point, I still had no idea of price and suspected from the view alone that this was out of our price range. Herr Guenter looked at us and said, 'normally, I would rent this out on a short term basis for vacationing Germans, but I like both of you and will offer the room to you at 650 Euros a month. It was truly a bargain price, considering the location and what he could make on renting short term to the wealthy Germans.
We moved in for the summer tourist season and felt everyday like I was living a dream. I would sit for hours on the balcony gazing out at the wide open sea, watching million dollar yachts quietly moving across the horizon. Each day, I would come home for my siesta and check the view of tourists lounging around below. I saw a lot of good, a lot of bad, and a lot of ugly...but there was always something interesting to say the least. I will never forget the sleepless nights from the revelling tourists coming back to their rooms at all hours of the night to continue their party. I had a lot of nights where I maybe got 2 hours of sleep from the comotion, but it didn't matter...I was living a life many people only dream of. Many people who were back home saving up for that one week vacation in Cancun or Hawaii to come back to the life of a cubicle and 8 to 5 work week. Everyday for five years was a vacation for me in a sense. It was a time I will never forget.
Mallorca is very nice place
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