Magaluf - Educational madness!

It was 1989 and my first trip abroad; not a family holiday or a vacation with friends, this was a so-called academic week away, in what was then the party capital of Europe - Magaluf. After leaving school in 1987, I attended Fareham College, studying Business. It was the way of the future and towards the end of Thatchers Britain, it was the subject to study. For me, it was a no-brainer; I wanted to learn about commerce and how to make money, as any true child of Thatcherism would.

Selecting additional modules, I chose to study Travel and Tourism, even then having an interest in the wider World. However, this wasn't the subject I thought it would be, in fact it was rather relaxed and if I am honest we did very little as a class in an educational sense. Light-hearted banter and dreams of living abroad, was my way of getting through the day, and I used it to the full, in a subject that just highlighted my then disinterest in education and learning. Two years later, as my course drew to a close, we travelled to Magaluf in Majorca, to study tourism on the island first hand. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, this was more of a car crash, rather than a polite introduction to life in the Balearics!

That first flight on Air Iberia was memorable for all the wrong reasons. A group of barely eighteen-year-old students, laughing noisily, shouting up and down the isles and acting up, in a way our children's children would be proud of today, was not an auspicious start to this educational field trip. As we landed in Spain, many of us had already been given our first and final warning, before we had even started.

As is inevitable in these situations, we all split into smaller groups and for the most part spent our week together. This wasn't seven days of hard conscientious study, this was a journey of teenage discovery, high jinx and indecorous behaviour. On day one, we found our local, a small bar near our hotel, called 'The Pink Elephant.' This run down pub became our first port of call daily, as we partied every night away until the early hours. Copious amounts of alcohol, cigarettes and drunken behaviour became the norm, as we all forgot the real reasons we were there. Mayhem and madness overtook events, and discovering our inner alcoholic became part of the course.

Laying motionless on our hotel bedroom floor, midway through the holiday, straddled by my roommate Mark, making sure I was still alive, a note passed under the door. Written in capital letters, from our senior lecturer, we were told in no uncertain terms that this was yet another final warning and if this behaviour continued, we would be sent home on the next flight. The next morning sheepishly walking into the breakfast room, hangovers smarting like never before, we sat down to eat. An expression of disappointment and determination from our guardians, and we knew time was up, if we didn't calm down and behave, or at least pretend to buck our ideas up and do some work. A new leaf turned, the rest of our stay consisted of more of the same, but with a little bit of studying on the side.

This truce worked well; We did continue to enjoy our time in a way only young adults know how, but in public we were far more respectful, even looking forward to the more cultural side of our journey.

Travelling into the island, towards the mountains, we passed through lemon and orange groves, sat admiring the beautiful Majorcan scenery on a rather ramshackled old wooden train. Arriving in Soller, aghast at the amazing views across the water, quietly, I sat on the side of the harbour, taking in the rugged landscape. These days were few and far between, but offered a welcome break from the huge shots of vodka the night before. Breakfast in a Spanish McDonald's was really the extent of our enlightened experience, especially when it came with a glass of whisky and foreign tasting fries. You could see the understandable regret on our lecturers faces, resigned to the fact, this is how it was going to be!

Our final night in Magaluf was once again full of celebration, drinking and dancing; this time however our teachers were very much in tow, enjoying the bars and clubs as much as us. Eighties music, cocktails in BCM, collapsing drunk in the street and drinking competitions, the final finale in the most memorable week of my youth. I may well have not learnt a lot about the island and its importance in Spanish tourism, but I did discover much about myself, my limits and boundaries, sexuality and most importantly, my first tentative steps into adulthood; Magaluf was the beginning of my love affair with travel and  the foundations for the person I am today!

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