Every year, when the visitors go home and the Soller Valley empties we enter a relationship twilight zone. For new residents the first November of their lives here marks them out, not as tourists, but those with ‘skin in the game’. They are seen around town and on walks by the beach. They often collect their children from the school gates. Others take their laptop and tap away in the sunshine in a café around the Placa. In time conversations happen and sometimes, just sometimes, friendships develop.
Twenty-five years ago, when I was making those tentative steps with the people who arrived at the same time, the class of 1999 was formed. Every year the arriving group form their own newbies team. They learn from each other and understand the process they are going through. That is, if they communicate, and are seen in the Placa. There are plenty of others who make the same journey without sharing a word with a soul. Everyone is different and there is no ‘one size’ fits all.
Of my class of 1999, few remain. Returning to home countries because of elderly parents or the arrival of grandchildren is a common theme. Others have gone because of their own age and infirmity. They needed to be in a place where you can understand the language if you are ill. Some friends had no intention of staying long term. The Soller experience was a fabulous phase in their lives, but not their forever home. Some move back ‘home’ and keep a second home here, either rented or bought. They don’t want to be here full time, but they still want the option to return when they can. Having money enables these choices and the experience doesn’t always match the expectation. Life moves on for residents and playing constant catch up with infrequent visitors (tell me all the news) has its downside.
All these elements contribute to the loneliness of the expat. Superficial relationships at best and sometimes no connection at all. The new world of the Internet nomad does not help the status quo. They come to work for a few months then take their computers and move to another beauty spot in the world. Are they having an authentic experience or just an extended working holiday? What is their contribution to the lives of the people they meet in the towns they inhabit, with their transient take on life?
I could be writing this in many parts of the Mediterranean where expats choose to live for a season, or forever. The ‘expat loneliness’ is a known condition and the subject of calls to mental health helplines. In the past, joining charitable work, churches or organisations filled the early days gap for friends. Sharing an activity is still the best way of getting to know people.
For newer arrivals with families here and children in the mix, their days are busy. They have little time for joining anything as working and family life is all consuming. This is the biggest difference for the Class of 2024, they are not usually the recently retired with money to spend. They are either super rich with their consequent angst or working month to month to pay their way in life.
I am only talking here about the incomers who tend to divide into the categories I have described. Local people in Mallorca have their own class and financial divides. There are super rich Mallorquin people. They own many houses and vast estates of land. They finance big business in other countries and have a ‘super rich’ list of their own. At the other end of the scale The European Anti-Poverty Network in the Balearics estimates that around 20% of the islands’ population are at risk of poverty or social exclusion. Based on the At-risk-of-poverty or social exclusion (AROPE) rate indicator, the number of people is put at some 250,000.
Mallorca has a full spectrum of need which seems out of proportion to its status as a small island with just 962,000 inhabitants. Rich, poor, lonely, transient, entitled, happy, fulfilled, content. Which adjective describes you in your life in this beautiful place?
