This Spanish Island Wants to Ditch Drunk British Tourists for Rich American Ones

Mallorca is taking a less-is-more approach to tourism as anger swells among locals

MALLORCA, Spain—This Mediterranean island is a tourist paradise, with glittering turquoise seas, hidden coves and endless white-sand beaches that have been luring Europeans for generations.

It is also the epicenter of Europe’s backlash to overtourism. Local residents have taken to the streets and beaches repeatedly this summer to protest the island’s growing flock of visitors, united by one message: “Tourists, go home.”

The island—roughly 125 miles east of the Spanish mainland, with a population of about one million—is on track to welcome about 14 million tourists this year. They pour in on hulking cruise ships, rowdy budget airline flights and tour buses run by vacation-package companies. In peak summer months, the island’s daily population can rise by 50%.

Mallorca’s tourism model is increasingly a victim of its own success, as overcrowding risks eroding what made it special in the first place. Local politicians are trying to calm the backlash from residents—without jeopardizing the revenue that is the lifeblood of the economy.

The flood of tourists has pushed the island’s infrastructure to its limit, leading to traffic jams, strained water resources and a severe shortage of affordable housing for locals. On the outskirts of the capital, Palma, some locals who can no longer afford an apartment live in sprawling communities of camper vans.

Some on the island have called for radical tourism-containment measures, such as an outright limit on visitors.

Mallorca’s leaders are testing a different solution: a rebrand. The island wants to shed its reputation as a hot spot for British bachelor parties and thrifty package-holidayers and transform into a luxury destination for high-rolling tourists like Americans.

Smoketoomuch: Yes, you’re quite right, I’m fed up with
being treated like a sheep, I mean what’s the point of
going abroad if you’re just another tourist carted
round in buses, surrounded by sweaty, mindless oafs
from Kettering and Boventry...

Bounder: Absolutel..

Smoketoomuch: ...in their cloth caps and their
cardigans and their transistor radios and their ‘Sunday
Mirrors’, complaining about the tea, ‘Oh they don’t
make it properly here do they not like at home’
stopping at Majorcan bodegas, selling fish and chips
and Watney’s Red Barrel and calamares and two veg...

Bounder: Yes.

Smoketoomuch: ...and sitting in their cotton sun frocks
squirting Timothy White’s suncream all over their puffy
raw swollen purulent flesh...

Bounder: Yes.

Smoketoomuch: ...cos they ‘overdid it on the first
day’! And being herded into endless Hotel Miramars and
Bellevueses and Bontinentals...

Bounder: Yes, yes...

Smoketoomuch: ...with their modern international luxury
roomettes and draft Red Barrel and swimmingpools...

Bounder: Yes.

Smoketoomuch: ...full of fat German businessmen
pretending they’re acrobats, forming pyramids and
frightening the children and barging in the queues and
if you’re not at your table spot on seven you miss the
bowl of Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom soup,...

Bounder: Shut up.

Smoketoomuch: ...the first item on the menu of
International Cuisine,...
Bounder: Shut up, please!

Smoketoomuch: ...and every Thursday night the hotel is
a bloody cabaret in the bar featuring a tiny emaciated
dago...

Bounder: Please, will you shut up.

Smoketoomuch: ...with nine-inch hips and some bloated
fat tart with her hair Brylcreemed down and a big arse
presenting Flamenco for Foreigners.

Bounder: Shut up!

Smoketoomuch: And adenoidal typists from Birmingham
with flabby white legs and diarrhoea trying to pick up
hairy...

Bounder: Please..

Smoketoomuch: ...bandy-legged wop waiters called
Manuel,...

Bounder: ..shut up!
Smoketoomuch: ...and once a week there’s an excursion
to the local Roman ruins to buy cherryade and melted
ice cream...

Bounder: I can’t bear it!

Smoketoomuch: ...and bleedin’ Watney’s Red Barrel, and
one evening you visit the so-called typical restaurant
with local colour...

Bounder: Shaddap!

Smoketoomuch: ...and atmosphere and you sit next to a
party of people from Rhyl who keeps singing
‘Torremolinos, Torremolinos’, and complaining about the
food, ‘It’s so greasy here isn’t it!’ and you get
cornered by some drunken greengrocer from Luton with an
Instamatic and Dr Scholl sandals and Tuesday’s ‘Daily
Express’ and he drones on and on and on about how Mr
Smith should be running this country and how many...

Bounder: Stop it, please.

Smoketoomuch: ...languages Enoch Powell can speak and
then he throws up all over the Cuba Libres.

Bounder: Will you be quiet please.

Smoketoomuch: And sending tinted postcards of places
they don’t realise they haven’t even visited, ‘to
all...

Bounder: Shut up

Smoketoomuch: ...at number 22, weather wonderful...
Bounder: PLEASE, SHUT UP!

Smoketoomuch: ...our room is marked with an “X”. Food
very greasy but we found a charming...

Bounder: Take it off! TAKE IT OFF!

Smoketoomuch: ...little place hidden away in the back
streets, where they serve Watney’s Red Barrel and
cheese and onion...

Bounder: For God’s sake, take it off. TAKE IT OFF!!!

Smoketoomuch: ...crisps and the accordionist plays
“Maybe its because I’m a Londoner”’...
(Sound of pick-up skating across record)

Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.