The Single Girl's Guide to Magaluf

I never realised it was possible to judge the tone of a holiday from the flight alone until I was on the 05.40 from Gatwick to Palma last Thursday, and the group of twelve lads sat in front of me (who I can only guess were holidaying in celebration of one of them hitting puberty) decided it was acceptable to wolf-whistle the air hostess not only when she was pointing out the emergency exits – coz safety is so sexy – but for the entire flight. Then ordering those tiny, over-priced beers, all before 7 a.m.

Palma International Airport serves the infamous party destination of Magaluf, also known for reasons I need not explain as Shagaluf. I stayed in Palma Nova, about a twenty-five minute walk away from Magaluf and the location of two types of people:
1) Those who didn’t realise how close Palma Nova is to Magaluf, and
2) Those who are pretending they didn’t realise how close Palma Nova is to Magaluf.

You can decide which category I fell into… either way, my friends and I adopted the flawless phrase of “When in Maga…”, and handed over our Monopoly-money-Euros for tickets for our weekend in Magaluf, despite being half-warned by the receptionists at our hotel that “we seem like nice girls”…

It all started at 3 p.m on Magaluf beach where we boarded BCM’s Boat Party – also known as a Booze Cruise. I was doomed the moment I uttered that fateful phrase: “I’m not going to drink that much”… If you don’t like drunk people, or stupid drinking games then never ever go on a Boat Party… and if you do, and it’s your Birthday, don’t admit it – unless you want a guy sitting on you with his mangina.

The DJ on the boat was just horrendous, and didn’t get any less horrendous the more I drank – every time he told a girl to get her tits out I could feel feminism backtracking. Don’t worry though, according to my friends I let him know what I thought of him.

Post-Boat Party, I found myself in another bar before attempting to return to the hotel. Imagine the walk home from a club in England, say at about 2 a.m – make-up is crumbling off your face and you’re walking like a newborn giraffe? Well that was me, but at about 6.30 in the evening, just as the sophisticated but geography-challenged vacationers of Palma Nova were preparing for an evening stroll or a nice dinner.

After passing out for a while, we then left for Magaluf one more time at about 2 a.m. After a few clubs we went to BCM: the largest club on the island. Two words: Free. Bar.

So Magaluf has this dodgy reputation which I don’t think is wholly deserved. Yes, my friends were chatted up by two guys who walked away the minute they refused to go back to their hotel. And yes, I did spot a cheeky condom on the floor of the water party.

Magaluf is like double-strength orange squash without any water…
I’ve met the sort of guys and girls in Magaluf all over the place: Southampton, Liverpool… I’ll never forget the unexpected and unwelcome back massage I was given outside a club in the South of France a few years ago; it’s just that in Magaluf it’s so much more concentrated. Sex is expected and easy... but it's optional.

However, I often make the assumption in clubs at home that guys in clubs or bars aren’t worth any serious consideration. But hang on, I’m out with my friends in a club, and we’re nice, normal girls. Plus my male friends go out, and they’re decent… and I suddenly, drunkenly realised that the same applies to Shagaluf.  

So don’t be put off by the prospect of having to wear a full on wetsuit to avoid the std filled sea… if you love going out then I would fully recommend Magaluf. I had the best night out of my life, and I’ve been out a lot.

And anyway, some of the names of the beaches, hotels or bathrooms of a restaurant would make pretty original baby names…

Harriet Baker


Thank you to my best friends Becca and Alice, who fully had my back in Magaluf, and for filling in the blanks so I could write this article :)