Summer Rain

Following the glad tidings of the announcement of work moving towards completion at the commercial port in Puerto Alcúdia, come the less glad tidings. Employees say that there is a lack of security provision – only one guard for the night times who has to patrol on foot despite there being a vehicle which, apparently, is not being used. 

 

If indeed this is the situation, it does perhaps reinforce the point from yesterday – that these grand schemes are paid out for at grand cost but are then not exploited fully (if indeed they ever could have been) and simply not resourced adequately. Too often one has the impression of projects being undertaken, completed and then someone asking, “right, well now what do we do?”

 

 

Rain, come on, rain

Rain finally fell yesterday. Chucked it down in Puerto Pollensa at lunchtime. It was the first appreciable rainfall for a couple of months; it was badly needed but shortlived. The curious thing was that, though the skies glowered elsewhere, the clouds seemed only to burst over Pollensa. The bone-dry earth of Alcúdia, that which partly contributed to the fire on the Puig Sant Martí earlier in the week, remains bone dry. 

 

But when it does rain, tourists are thrown into disarray. There is little alternative to the sun and its trappings, i.e. the beach and the pool. It might be a time when the bars and restaurants will be rubbing their hands with glee at the anticipation of the tourist diaspora wandering aimlessly under clouds and opting for a beer or several. In the past this would have happened. Now, even less-than-glorious weather fails to encourage tourists to turn the contents of their pockets out in return for a few cold drinks. And this despite the cricket. I can think of few better ways of idling away several hours than watching The Ashes, but unfortunately bars are geared more for the short bursts of sporting activity like football than the all-day grind of a test match. There should be bars with sofas or perhaps corporate hospitality boxes.

 

 

The principal principle

A few days ago I had cause to mention ESRA (28 June: Nothing Lasts Forever). I happened to see a copy of the annual handbook – not that I am the proud owner of one; it so happened to be sitting on a table in an office. This was put together with the help of dosh from Simon Cowell, for reasons I am not entirely clear as to, but be that as it may. But it is good to see that the X Factor-meister has dug into his pockets to support a publication that starts off with something as priceless as its explanation that the handbook is the “principle publication” of the association. I suppose that a “d” might have been missed, in that it is a “principled publication”, but I suspect not. ESRA is the English Speaking Residents’ Association. The principle is the wrong one; it should have been the other one – principal, meaning, in this context, main. There again, it is a speaking association, not a writing one. At least they didn’t get their abbreviation arse about face. 

 

 

False alarms?

A footnote to the Bellevue fires story of a while back. I am told that the alarms did go off. But not in the affected block – Minerva. They went off in Neptuno. How does that all work?

Nothing Lasts Forever

So, that article did not appear in “The Bulletin” – Michael Jackson got in the way it would seem – but it left some sufficiently hacked off because there was another piece about the Calvia bar association. Always Calvia, never Alcúdia – not my view, but what I hear. It is now meant to appear today. Ho hum.

This Calvia association. The desire is to get bar owners to become members and then act in some form of pressure capacity. I get a sinking feeling about it. The mover behind it is one of those who was involved in the ill-fated (Calvia-originated) British and Irish Business and Residents Association. It collapsed through lack of funding that was not forthcoming from the Mallorca Council; at least that’s my understanding. There was probably also an element of here’s an association, here’s some publicity and here is then massive indifference. Which is not to say that these things spring up without good intentions; but it is to say that people, for a variety of reasons, do not wish to get involved. Those reasons include the fact that they do not wish to be identified, that they don’t have the time and that they are just not interested. The only association that has ever truly established itself is ESRA (English Speaking Residents’ Association). It exists primarily for one reason – English speaking. There is no real agenda, which probably explains why it’s successful. People feel comfortable with an essentially benign group of fellow expats which courts neither controversy nor publicity. Plenty others feel uncomfortable if they are not straw-hatters, prefer not to wear black ties and attend dinner and dance functions or prefer not to play bowls; hence they do not join. ESRA goes about its admirable charity efforts and good works, its committees and gardening contests with all the gentility of an English shire country fête. Why, when I think of ESRA, can I never get out of my head the image of Matt Lucas and David Walliams as Judy and Maggie judging the marmalade?

It’s all a bit last days of the Raj, and to hear some of what is currently being said one might well form the impression that ESRA – and every other association as well as agency of government – is bearing witness to the last rites of things as they are known in Mallorca. I was given a right old ear-bashing by a (Mallorcan) restaurant owner in Playa de Muro the other day. “What do I do?” he kept asking. “What’s the solution?” he demanded of me. As if I know. Why not get all the owners together and put on some sort of protest, suggested I. It won’t happen. But there is some sense in associations, that do represent interests, coming together to voice their legitimate concerns as to the direction in which the tourism economy (the summer one) is heading – or more accurately, has gone. Recession is temporary, but the underlying decline has been there for some years, a combination of competition, reduced spend, over-supply and all-inclusives. The depressing fact is that complacency has prevented more or less everyone – government, local authorities and yes bar and restaurant owners – from recognising or at least admitting the trend. It has taken the “crisis” to finally wake everyone up. But having had some choice words for Muro town hall, this particular owner said, “so we protest and then the tourists all end up going to Turkey”. It’s an exaggeration, but it contains some truth in that there is a general impotence in the face of tour operator power and tourist choice.

Though there can be sympathy for bar and restaurant owners, it is also in limited supply for some, especially, I’m sorry to have to say, the Mallorcan families who have enjoyed the benefits of and reaped the rewards from tourism. The hardships tend more to be confined to newcomers, often foreign. Many of these families, some of them doing the moaning now, are sitting on significant wealth, or at least the potential to release wealth. Mallorca grew fat and made many Mallorcans wealthy thanks to various factors that dropped into the laps of these Mallorcans: first, perhaps the only sensible policy that the Franco regime had (to develop mass tourism); second, the tourist benevolence of tour operators, airlines and the tourists themselves; third, the benevolence of Europe in creating a modern economy for Spain and the island. Nothing lasts. That is the real point and the real problem. The tourist is spread far more thinly, he has more options. He, the tourist, and the tour operator can give and have given; they can also take away.

Sympathy there is, but there needs to also be a serious dose of realism. One detects a sense by which some of these owners believe that tourists continue to owe them; that they most certainly do not.