So this is what I do… three and a half weeks after the arrival at my island I haven’t eaten much, or gone to see the city. Basically I’m living on a terrace somewhere half way between Palma and the Airport, but hey - what the hell… I got internet!! Looks like three weeks of abstinence and abslolute abstemiousness of alcohol or partying finally paid off!

But well - let’s have a look. Tremendous exaggeration doesn’t take us nowhere. So here’s what really happened:
I got to Palma on September 3rd - all alone, all lost in a city where they even pronounce prevalent names like Burgerking or Microsoft in odd ways of twisting tongues. Luckily a nice mallorquin guy had supported me with just enough information to manage one third of my way to the apartement I rented via telephone some days ago. Since I had to agree on switching rooms with some funny spanish who instantly didn’t want to move out of the 300m² flat I rented a room at primarily I was excessively delighted that Arturo had found me some other place to crash at: 200m², two french, two spanish and me, next to Placa d’España (somehow the Westbahnhof located on a kind of Gürtel-like ring around the inner city). So there I was. Calling my landlord trying to figure out how to find the very street I was supposed to be at one-and-a-half hours earlier I ended up taking a cab to go like five times around one block to access the ludicrous one-way-system of Palma de Mallorca the right way and to stop just 120m from where I first jumped on the taxi… generously paying 6,50 EUR of course (since I had two suitcases an obviously reasonable sum).
Entering the apartment in C./ Patronat Obrero No.28 I was fairly impressed by the palace-like look of my accomodation - not that it was that big, but as empty and cold as the entrance hall of an medieval castle with rooms the size of one of these fancy little dungeons we all got to appreciate so much watching 1960’s bw-knights-movies. Luckily the french (and only) guy I met there within the following four days was sincere enough to demonstrate his interest in my arrival by going to bed right after I entered the flat. Thus I grabbed the Mallorca-GuideBook my lovely mum got me the other day to figure out how to get to the institute the next morning, where I was supposed to start my spanish course last friday. Cozily snuggling on the diligently placed pallet in my room I fell asleep right after the gastly beeping noise coming from some construction site hushed.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, September 26th, 2006 at 23:56 and is filed under Palma, inglés. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.