Friends who have recently been staying with us, despite one troll’s opinion that because I hail from Islington (actually moved away when I was 12) I’m not hospitable or friendly enough to invite friends and relatives to stay, asked me what we did to pass our days here on this beautiful island of Mallorca.
It’s a simple enough question, yet not so simple to answer! Each day is busily filled with doing ‘something’, yet when you try to list and explain those time-consuming activities, it often sounds as though it falls way short of being busy or occupational!
For example, how do you explain that the task of wandering into a sleepy village for a coffee at the local bar, after visiting the pharmacy, greengrocers or bakery for essential supplies can possibly take up your entire morning? You meet locals, you chat, you relax and reflect on life. Then, before you know it, you’re back home preparing a ‘tranquillo’ lunch. Then it’s afternoon! The hours and days fly past. Things naturally get done, but always at a much slower, Mediterranean pace.
One of my favourite pastimes here in Mallorca, especially with autumn still delivering heart-warming sunshine, is to sit beneath the dabbled shade of a welcome tree, preferably with a cold refreshment to hand, and watch the world trickle by. Tuning in to channel chillax is a great way of spending time while observing local culture and clocking up a few quirky queries. For example: why do so many casual pedestrians suddenly launch themselves off pavements in front of approaching cars without ever looking? No Green Cross Code apparent here! I know it’s nice to think that our towns and villages are so laid back there’s no need for pedestrian protocol, but think again!
On the presumption that using a zebra crossing is safe, certain ‘gung ho’ pedestrians seem to deliberately speed onto the stripes like heat seeking missiles, then dissolve their gait to a pace that would challenge the slowest of snails, causing cars to suddenly screech to a halt. I know cars are supposed to stop, but sadly, motorists in Mallorca don’t always take that much notice of zebra crossings, so these challenging locals take quite a risk. Generally, people never cease to amaze me with their antics. The other day, I witnessed an elderly Mallorcan gentleman who actually unfolded his newspaper halfway across a ‘zebra’ and started to read it! I understand how that traditional throwback might make a refreshing change from texting or posting a random ‘selfie’. But the newspaper in question wasn’t even the ‘Bulletin!’
I also find it highly amusing in supermarkets, when idle shoppers block the aisles with their trolleys whilst pausing to have a good old gossip with friends. When you politely say ‘perdona’, they shift a perfunctory centimetre, completely oblivious to the fact that you are not in fact ‘Flat Stanley’, and cannot possibly break through their barricade. To actually pass, you have to shout really loudly, which might seem rude, yet it’s the only language Mallorcans seem to understand! Then, they will look at you as if you have just dropped from a space ship, before reluctantly sliding their trolleys aside for you to pass.
I am also quite aware, that although I am watching people for my own amusement, people are also probably, or most definitely watching me! I have a sight problem in one eye which can affect my balance, and I sometimes over-compensate by lurching suddenly to the left or right. Therefore, I tend to keep clear of harbour-side walkways, narrow pavements, steep river banks and clifftops. People probably think – ‘bet he’s had a few!’ and wait enthusiastically for me to timely topple. Ha! Ha! If only they knew!
Local people-watching is a practised passion, and what better place to ‘watch’ and ‘absorb’ Mallorcan character and culture than in an uber-busy restaurant during a Sunday lunch service. With a reputation for extreme tardiness, it’s interesting to watch the tactics at tables reserved for large parties at booked venues. Generally, two people turn up on time so the table is secure. Then, slowly and surely the numbers increase in dribs and drabs for anything up to a good hour or so afterwards. And there is always one fashionable couple who totally disrespects everyone else in the dining party and arrive outlandishly late, usually with wet hair straight from the shower. Yet no one ever complains or says a word! What have these couples been doing while everyone else is waiting for them to turn up? Don’t ask.
It’s a Mallorcan thing, and as much a part of living here as breathing. You see, doing nothing and even writing about it keeps you busy!