Santanyi Saturday Market. It’s all fun and games until…

Santanyi Market

We take the bus, leaving Cala Figuera at 9 AM, to Santanyi, Mallorca for the market (Cost = 1.5 euros each).  We find ancient, narrow, cobblestone streets with vendors selling everything from fresh produce to Senegalese linens and leather.

It’s a packed market, full of Germans day-tripping as well as many locals.  We leave at noon when a rainstorm looms.  Everyone starts packing up.  We drink rose wine and beer at an Italian Restaurant while we catch up on writing.  We have olives and bread with our drinks but completely forget to eat a substantial meal.

So…a few hours later we are in the same marketplace area but now the vendors are all gone and we stumble into a bar full of local old men.  We order more rose wine and more beer and listen as drunk men talk our ears off despite us indicating that we do not understand.  It seems to be irrelevant.  One older man starts talking to us in broken English and he starts translating crudely.   He spent 15 years in Stockholm where he learned some English.  A man sits beside me.  Our interpreter tells me he was a fisherman his whole life.  He does not acknowledge us, but stares straight ahead with a drink in his strong hand, then leaves.

Next thing we know there are three old men sitting with us outside, one who bummed a cigarette off me earlier in the day.  We are laughing and chatting away – Jamie and I trying our hardest to communicate in Spanish.  We are having the time of our lives, laughing with these men and exchanging eye contact and smiles.  We buy beers all around.  A man comes out of the bar and reprimands Jamie.  He’s wagging his finger.  He looks mad.  We have no idea why, but clearly we have made some sort of mistake.

New friends.

We leave to catch the only bus returning that day to Cala Figuera.  We wait and wait and no bus.  Not unusual for the schedule to be wrong.  So we start walking and get in an epic and ridiculous fight as we often do when we drink too much.  It’s much like a Latin movie – dramatic and fiery with big sweeping gestures to indicate the high level of drama.  And walkouts.  And the next day, always a source of apology on both sides and shame for the damage we do to each other.  We realized last week that we are exact opposites on the astrological chart – born exactly one and a half years apart.  When we fight, we fight.

And so after a silent 5 km walk back to town, we stumble into another huge bar with only a German couple as patrons and a German owner behind the counter.  Still fuming, I order a  glass of sangria and am delivered a pitcher.  Jamie has beer.  The owner is drinking as well.  He’s probably 60, tall and handsome and a DJ back in Germany.  He has 200 vinyl records at the counter and is playing “Sweet Home Alabama” for us.  Then AC/DC.  I forget I’m mad.  So does Jamie.  I dance with the German woman.  I dance with the owner.  The couple tries to convince Jamie and I to have kids.  Odd timing, I’d say.  The owner makes me a Bacardi and Rum.  Why God?!  And then we have to go.  The next day is lost to the worst headache and cold sweats.  What a day.

And it all started with a little trip to market.

Photos of the day: