If you're German, you can win a luxury villa in Mallorca for 25 euros

It turns out there are Germans who don't dream in German: they dream of the most authentic Catalan spoken in inland Mallorca. They don't dream of the Bavarian Alps, with their orderly and perfect villages, nor of the impenetrable forests of the Black Forest: they close their eyes and what appears in their minds is the rugged profile of the Tramuntana mountain range. These are their dreams. Only this explains why a German's 'dream house' is located 1,560 kilometers south of Berlin, on the hospitable island of Mallorca.

Traumhausverlosung'BK_SLT_LNA' means 'Dream House Raffle'. It's also the name of a very popular raffle in Germany; every three months a new house is raffled off, always in picturesque locations, always villas that take two days to scrub the entire floor. The only requirements to enter are being 18 years old and owning a house in Germany; this practically guarantees that the participants are German, without having to require their nationality. We had the honor of the last house raffled off being a beautiful property in Pla de Mallorca, a 230-square-meter villa with a swimming pool and a Mediterranean garden "with palm and olive trees." They are careful not to specify which municipality it is. The winner, a 60-year-old Berliner, invested 25 euros in the raffle. The house is valued at two million.

That Germans raffle off a villa in Mallorca among themselves, while there are people born here who have to emigrate because they can't afford a room, is not obscene. It's not obscene that there are retirees who have to leave after working here their whole lives. Or workers who have to live in caravans. Or doctor, teacher, or police officer positions that can't be filled. It's not obscene. On the contrary, it's a demonstration of practical economics: my GDP is higher than your GDP, so you leave and I sell. German GDP per capita is €56,000, Spanish GDP per capita is €32,000: I can buy the place you live on. End of discussion, you'd better learn that.

A second home in a poorer country

This is the logic behind acquiring a second home in a poorer country; if these acquisitions begin to multiply, prices will rise beyond the reach of the local population. It's the same logic behind digital nomadism: young people with greater purchasing power who work remotely; if a certain number of them arrive in a city, they will drive up rents. They are kind and civilized people, undoubtedly, and perfectly aware that their purchasing power is greater than that of the residents. That's why they are here and not at home. And because they love this land: the sun, the beaches, the landscape, the food, the nightlife, the Mediterranean way of life... In reality, it's a declaration of love. And they love you so much and hold you so tightly that you begin to feel suffocated; first, the pressure of rising prices increases, then your bank account dries up; finally, you can't breathe.

So, the raffle of a piece of Mallorca among Germans should be seen as just another step in an inevitable process, as something that falls into place naturally. It was written in the stars. In fact, there's no record of anyone protesting; neither the Consell de Mallorca nor the Balearic Government has uttered a peep, nor has any political party said anything; not Vox, nor the PP, nor the PSIB, nor Más per Mallorca... Everyone finds it perfectly normal.

'To draw a number on an aborigine'

The next step must necessarily be to acquire an aboriginal person. Not to 'hire' them as a gardener or nanny for a playful brood of fair-skinned, blond children. Not to 'acquire their services': to obtain 'their property'. What was once called 'owning a slave', a term which, today, and in the context of the modern European Union (protector of human and digital rights), we must discard in favor of a more appropriate designation, such as 'local beneficiary population'.

It was written. If you look closely, in the popular Christmas carol Smoke, smoke, smokeThe baby Jesus was already "fair-skinned and blond." It's a very old Catalan Christmas carol, sung in Catalonia, Valencia, and the Balearic Islands. The baby Jesus isn't dark-skinned like many of us lucky enough to have been born along the Mediterranean coast. He isn't what Jesus Christ would really have been like: dark-skinned, dark-haired, and brown-eyed, as befits a Hebrew Jew from the Middle East. No: he's a Caucasian child. He's fair-skinned and blond, in recognition of the superiority of our European partners, always somewhat more European than us. Or, at least, somewhat richer. Our submission was written in the stars. We were predestined. Put down the hoe, the hoe, the slaughtering knife; put down your cell phone and computer. Leave everything and get in line: the drawing is about to begin.