Making my way through the mediteranean metropolis of Palma de Mallorca by most eloquently asking for directions on the street I eventually managed to attend the intensive spanish course which would - hopefully - earn me the scholarship for september. Not having any clue I consequently entered a classroom for intermedios basicos where I - starting to memorize all numbers from 100 to a thousand in spanish - felt quite comfy! Unfortunately some observant teacher stuck me into the course for intermedios superiores some three days later. But it goes without saying that I managed to have a fairly pleasant time at this class full of female russian language students and spanish-freshmen. Not fooling away my money I got to know two pretty hidious slovenian guys who - not having neither any clue of spanish-language nor of finding a residence in this mere catalan city - exhibited a quite familiar style of humor when trying to speak german after having a cup of coffee in our descretely extended lunch brake.
Knowing about not having a chance of getting laid with one of the frigid russians I hopped on the next opportunity of spendig some fun-time in Palma and joined Matjaz and Bojan on their adventurous ride to the university. As these two master’s students had come to Mallorca by car we - once again - challenged the incredible road network where Matjaz, Bojan (aka Trifko) and I figured out how mallorquin style of driving really must be tought in driving-schools:

So, Maria-Magdalena-Veronica-Ana-Martina-Sonia. Brauchst di ned fürchten vorm Fahren, wir gehen’s ganz langsam an… Schau - gehst langsam runter von der Kupplung, gibst a bissl Gas beim Wegfahren und !”%!(% SCHNEIDST DEN WAPPLER DER GRAD AUF DER RECHTEN SPUR IM KREISVERKEHR FÄHRT DAMITST DIE AUSFAHRT ERWISCHST (%&”/!”&
Na schau, woar ja scho’ ganz guat.

It goes without saying that slovenians are quite familiar with this style of driving. Therefor after checking out the strategically carefully picked location of the university campus of the UIB, 7.5km outside the city, we kept going, finally deciding to move in together for the following couple of months. Wisely having delayed signing the contract for my first apartment I was free to join these two crazy chicks on a tour through the most fancy districts of Palma looking for a mansion that would fit their expectations. Of course I was the only one mildly understanding what newspaper ads and shields hanging on diverse balconies were saying, so I was officially announced austrian translation machine. Three tough days of driving around the city, entering derelicted buildings, calling landlord after landlord and real estate agency after real estate agency where followed by pure agony and chronic remorse… more to come

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