The summer season is still heating up here in sunny Mallorca. But incoming flights are already packed, hotels busy, beaches filling up and, after weeks of atrocious behavior in some of the island’s most notorious party zones, locals are responding, hard.
So far there have been sit-ins on the beaches, threats to close the airport, increasingly aggressive anti-tourist graffiti: ‘Tourists are going home!’ and ‘Fuck tourists’, while a series of protest groups have been appearing, some with links to notorious Catalan, Valencian and Basque groups.
Earlier this month, a crowd of 15,000 people (mostly locals, but with some international protesters eager to get in) took to the speckled streets of Palma, shouting: ‘Save Mallorca, foreigners out!’
There are certainly many things that make them angry.
Even by Mallorcan standards, the behavior of some tourists seems to have hit a new low lately. And contrary to recent reports, the Germans, not the British, have been at the center of all this.
German tourists spend the entire night drinking beers and drinks, until they are completely saturated, writes Jane Fryer.
Contrary to recent reports, the Germans, and not the British, are the center of the bad behavior.
A football team from Frankfurt. They had been playing hard since 2pm and were already down seven Smirnoffs.
Yes, there have been a number of shocking incidents involving UK citizens in recent weeks.
There was, for example, the embarrassing stag night, when a group of drunken St Albans builders took offense at being politely asked not to throw cans and rubbish into the crystal clear waters of a posh family beach bar, and then beat up everyone they could find, including two police officers and a waiter.
“People were running from the tables, clutching their babies, terrified,” says Gastón, manager of the restaurant at the Balneario Illetas beach club, in a low voice. ‘It was very shocking. It’s a strange way to behave.
And, of course, he is right. Both his boyfriend, a guy named Connor Lorimer, who runs a construction company, and his godfather, were among the eight thrown into the cells.
But that was not the worst; not even close.
A few days earlier, riot police were forced to use rubber bullets against a group of neo-Nazis rampaging in the German-dominated resort of S’Arenal.
—Rubber bullets in Mallorca? says Jason Moore, who runs the Majorca Daily Bulletin. “It felt like we were in Belfast.”
But as gruesome as all that may seem, it is depressingly commonplace for residents.
Last month, also in S’Arenal, two German tourists died after falling from hotel balconies in separate incidents. One had been drinking all night, passed out on the balcony railing and just fell.
Even by Mallorcan standards, the behavior of some tourists seems to have reached a new low lately.
The entire island is beginning to buckle under the pressure of tourism, with increasing pressure on resources, public services, housing and congestion.
In the past, tourists in Mallorca were mostly British. Some came to drink, others to sunbathe and have fun.
But what really bothers residents is not the quality of the tourists but the quantity. Because the entire island is starting to buckle under the pressure, with increasing pressure on resources, public services, housing and congestion.
In the past tourists here were mostly British. Some came to drink, others to sunbathe and have fun. They loved it and it was cheap, so many of them bought apartments and villas and retired here.
But at the end of the 80s, Germans began to arrive in Mallorca, and now each year there are at least four times more than the British. And wherever I go I’m sure they are just as bad as the British, if not worse.
‘Go to S’Arenal. It is the headquarters of the German party. They drink, drink and drink,” they tell me. And so I do, and it’s one of the most amazing places I’ve ever been.
It is an almost entirely German tourist centre, with a main avenue known to all as ‘Beer and Ham Street’. It’s full of beer halls, charcuterie shops and, in the middle of the afternoon, huge groups of very drunk Germans in identical football shirts shouting ‘Ole, ole, ole!’ over and over again while drinking giant 2.5 liter mugs of beer the size of elephant legs. (For every elephant’s foot, they give you a soccer jersey.)
Women (there are a few, but they are mostly men) also do it with difficulty.
I meet a lovely group of girls who tell me they are on a football team in Frankfurt. They’ve been playing hard since 2pm and are already down seven Smirnoffs.
You wouldn’t know it; They look fresh like daisies. “We are better at drinking than the British. We can go on and on and on,” boasts Jana, a 20-year-old student teacher.
As we chat, a friend takes a young man in a purple soccer jersey to a quiet place to get sick. Another lies with his head leaning against the wall.
I meet a very cheerful young metalworker named Carsten, dressed in a shirt and matching shorts, who tells me that he is on his sixth visit and that he prefers vodka and lemon to beer, and that he usually keeps at least three liters of beer. I’m a big guy!’
An estimated 50,000 Germans, many of them extremely wealthy, dominate the island.
I have never seen so many people drink so obstinately for so many hours, writes Jane Fryer.
“I love it here,” he adds, “because it’s a somewhat sunny Germany, although I don’t eat Mallorcan food.” Which is good, because there aren’t any. It’s all salami, sausages and German beer.
Even in the endless tattoo parlors, decorative offerings include salamis and sausages, but the most popular inking is a huge mug of foamy beer that costs between 80 and 100 euros.
“They come in very drunk and incite each other,” says the man at the door. “They will not remember what they did in the morning.”
I had never seen so many people drink so obstinately for so many hours.
Germans spend the entire night drinking beers and drinks, until they are completely saturated. Some enjoy a refreshing glass of prosecco at their hotel’s breakfast buffet. But they insist they are a different kind of drunk to the British.
‘We are not aggressive. We love to sing. “We are peaceful,” Sarah, a caregiver for the elderly who is here for her bachelorette party, tells me.
Maybe. The neo-Nazis weren’t much fun, though. And a waiter tells me that they are already prepared for the Germany-Scotland Euro Cup soccer match on Friday. “EVERYTHING will begin,” he says.
But of course, on a beautiful, sunny island like this, tourism is only part of the problem.
In the last ten years, the permanent population has increased from 700,000 to 900,000, adding more pressure everywhere.
Thanks to the post-Brexit 180-day rule, which decrees that Britons cannot spend more than two blocks of 90 days in Europe each year, the British contingent is dwindling. Some of them are also a little tired of being the butt of endless Brexit jokes.
‘As an expat, everything that happens at home is always your fault, but they never stop!’ says Jean, 68, originally from Macclesfield, Cheshire, who has lived here for more than 30 years.
So, again, it is the Germans who dominate. There are an estimated 50,000 of them, many of them extremely wealthy. They own superyachts, villas and luxury apartments and, according to some locals, their presence is felt more strongly than that of the “more liberal Brits”.
They also meet in pretty towns like Santanyí and Cala Ratjada, which look more German than Mallorcan, with German shops, German art galleries and sunny markets with pretty stalls manned by Germans selling German products to other Germans.
What one local calls “the German occupation” is still unknown.
Some locals complain that they are now moving away from the tourist towns to take up properties in towns in the central heartland, traditionally a safe and cheaper place to live for Mallorcans.
Some feel like their hands are tied. “You can’t start banning the Germans: the EU will go crazy!” says one. Others firmly insist that the Germans are absolutely fine, wonderfully organized and that no one has a phobia of tourists, they just want some limits.
Meanwhile, no matter how quickly authorities remove anti-tourist graffiti, more appear, along with posters and stickers on windows, streetlights and scribbles on the walls of back streets.
There is no doubt that this beautiful island is in a very delicate balance. The next protest is scheduled for Saturday.
“This last demonstration was just the appetizer,” says Jaume Garau, leader of a new Tourism Congress. ‘The next one will be very big, because some Mallorcans are frustrated, divided and fragmented. We have to do something. Our group wants long-term solutions, but many want a quick fix because they can’t take it anymore.’
For now, the protests are peaceful. The danger, of course, is that as more and more protesters join the fray, things will fall apart. That protester will throw something… someone gets hurt… things explode… and visitors get nervous and head to Malaga, and the entire tourism industry is affected.
It would be absolutely devastating for the economy and a real shame. Because apart from perhaps the hellish drinking areas of S’Arenal and Magaluf, Mallorca is an incredible place: bright, vibrant, beautiful and, for the last 70 years, unfailingly welcoming.
But perhaps now is the time for the government to stop so enthusiastically rolling out the red carpet for everyone else and focus a little more on its own people.
