Mallorca was an endless sparkling ocean with funky natural coves tracing their way around the jagged edges of the sun-drenched Spanish island. Every view would be at home on a tourist brochure, so it’s no wonder why there were so many foreigners squished into the sandy spaces.
The absolute highlight of Mallorca was the opportunity to meet up with my brother Matt and his German long-distance lover Lotti. It was so loose having three of the Parky siblings together on an island on the opposite side of the world from home. We went to the beach, out for food and brews, shredded up the dancefloors, and absolutely killed the karaoke game. My favourite part was when the four of us put our heart and soul into singing ‘Where is the Love – Black Eyed Peas’ for a mellow crowd of approximately 10 at a small karaoke joint. I think at some points Matt honestly thought he was the real Will.I.Am. I feel so fortunate we all got the chance to meet up and make memories!
One day the four of us hired a rental car and hooned to the coast to suss out the beach and the market. It was a pleasant day aside from the fact we missed the market, and our rental car got towed. Upon returning to our car and realising it had been towed, we spoke with the po-police, who suggested we drive to the po-police station. That was a good joke. We ended up catching a cab to the station and Ash, in Espanol, tried to hustle us out of the fine we received for apparently parking in the wrong area. Considering there were no signs to say we couldn’t park in that area, it was only just a liiiiittle bit annoying that we had to pay 160 Euro (about $240NZD) before the po-policeman would drive us in his car to recover ours. #FTP
Ashleigh and I stayed with a Lithuanian couchsurfing host on mattresses in her basement. She had long blonde dreadlocks, worked at a pool bar and tapas restaurant and went by the name of Daisy. We had so much fun getting to know her, chilling at the beach, recovering from subsequent sunburn, eating Indian food and watching football and karaoke over cocktails at a local bar. It was a pleasure to be surrounded by her positive energy.
We met Daisy’s neighbour on the first night we crashed in the basement. Our conversation went from him warning us about mosquitos, to him showing us some oil for mosquito bites which also happened to be great for massages. This, conveniently, lead to him inviting us into his room and alternating giving us oil massages, clicking our bones, and introducing us to new stretches to ensure our legs remained the same length and our shoulders became even. At around 3am, he tried to convince us that we should stay in his bed with him because it would be better for our backs.. We politely declined, and went to sleep in the room next door feeling relaxed, oily, and 100% protected against mosquitos.
Another person we had the strange pleasure of meeting was a man of about sixty years called Ron. He rotated the same three songs at the local karaoke bar every night of the week, wore the quirkiest belts, and cried on my shoulder about how he was a boy stuck in a mans body. My highlight of his company was on night two when he rocked up to the karaoke bar with freshly died hair, moustache, and eyebrows, a dartboard belt, and ‘Karaoke Ron’ embroidered on his polo shirt. He was a real character.
Another person we met at our local karaoke bar was the barman called Nacho. I met him later in the evening in a club where a bar fight occurred and we both got soaked in sticky vodka mixers. After drying out under the AC unit, Nacho, Ash, another guy, and I spent the rest of the night at the beach. Pm me for the most hilarious story from this night that is probably not blog appropriate. At around 8am we had beer for breakfast, hired a rental car, and drove to the waterpark where Ash, Nacho and I splashed about for the day. No sleep, a hangover, beer for breaky, and nil experience driving on European roads is probably the worst combo as it is. On top of this I had Ash on navigation duties and despite having a GPS unit she still managed to send me down at least five one way or dead end streets. I cannot describe how relieved I was to return that car in one piece.
Overall, I would 100% recommend visiting Mallorca, but would 110% not recommend renting a car there.