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Spain: Magalluf - Sarah Drane, Purple Cake Factory

Magalluf

To prove the theory that every (ash) cloud has a silver lining, Eyjafjallajökull (how ironic that proper names are now allowed in Scrabble) has had a wonderful soporific effect on our infamous Magalluf.

Whilst taxi drivers and bar owners are snivelling into their sangria at the loss of earnings, some of us locals have ventured into what was previously a ‘no-go zone’ to soak up the suddenly civilised atmosphere. With hundreds of stag and hen weekenders in their gaudy garb not making it past the check-in desk in the UK, the mean streets of Magalluf are, dare I say, almost tolerable. Especially as those who made the outbound flight, but are at the mercy of Mother Nature for the inbound, are far too preoccupied with eking out the euros for sinking coma-inducing quantities of Jägermeister.

One family with a disproportionate number of male teenagers in tow was due to leave Mallorca the day that Eyjafjallajökull blew her top and, like most holidaymakers, has now blown its budget. They’ve consolidated from several comfortable hotel rooms to just two, with sofas and sunloungers doubling as beds, and now run a nightly competition to see who can cook the family meal for the lowest price (I’m guessing pasta features strongly…). Another couple with three pre-school children has had to leave their hotel in favour of a basic budget hostel. Hundreds more have headed back to Palma Airport to doss down at the terminal.

Others are quite euphoric about the whole situation and toasting Iceland at every opportunity. Magalluf is currently basking in 20-odd degrees Celsius, has two kilometres of Blue Flag beach and no shortage of drinking holes to while away the hours in. You can pitch up with a pint at 9.30am to watch a Peter Kay DVD outside Benny Hills and wind up in Bananas at 5.30am the following morning. For many 18-30s this is the epitome of holiday heaven and they don’t even have to explain their extended absence to their boss.

One 21-year-old lad proudly stated he’d migrated from a peripheral table in Magalluf’s Local Bar to propping up the bar on a stool as he was ‘a proper local now and knew the staff by name’. He’ll be mortified when the authorities re-open European air space.

And me, yes, I enjoyed my rare Maga night out. Although I’d usually give the neon city a wide berth it’s really not that bad (when half empty). The local council cleaned it up a lot in the 90s and the area is heavily policed. It is what it is, a self-contained party paradise that injects a lot of revenue into the Island’s coffers. However, when the volcanic ash moves on, so will I. It’s never nice to feel overdressed wearing anything more than a lap dancer’s outfit or to be gawped at by youngsters wondering how you can move from bar-to-bar without the assistance of a zimmer frame…

(Photo: Rafael Ortega Diaz)

Sarah Drane

Sarah is the proprietor of Purple Cake Factory, an Award-winning company that specializes in real estate, marine and travel PR.

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