The Hotels’ Beachhead

Change of government is still a month away, but the tourism industry has gone into overdrive in anticipation of all sorts of liberalisation that may be ushered forth by a Partido Popular victory.

As far as the hoteliers are concerned, Mariano Rajoy may as well already be prime minister. The Meliá plans for Magalluf are partly dependent on legislative relaxation, and the specific plans Meliá has for the beach would almost certainly require some changes to the Coasts Law.

When it was announced that Meliá wished to “exploit” the beach, a thought which occurred had to do with what the Costas Authority would make of it. This is a body which, while it does, quite rightly, seek to protect the coastal environment, is also the source of obstruction and of much that runs counter to the wishes of the tourism industry.

If a likely change of government were not in the offing, the chances are that Meliá’s wishes would have been stamped on from the great height that the Costas has come to assume; or probably, the wishes would never have been made public. Without knowing for sure, one gets the sense that the Costas might find its seemingly all-embracing powers being cut back.

Meliá wants, among other things, to be able to provide temporary moorings next to its hotels. The Mallorca hoteliers federation, very much to the fore in driving a national agenda, wants a change to the Coasts Law which would not only remove any obstacle to Meliá providing its moorings but would also permit other hotels to exploit other beaches for leisure purposes.

The proposal, much as it may make good business sense for the hotels and for the tourism industry, does run up against a difficulty. Essentially, the beaches would be privatised and there has to be a risk, somewhere along the line, that the principle of free public space on the beaches might be endangered.

Where the Costas has been doing a good job is in ensuring this free space. Together with town halls, it has also kept the sea itself free. And by free, one means open and accessible. It is the open to access principle that comes into question if the hotels have their way. With Meliá’s moorings, where would they go exactly? Would they in some way impede public use of the sea?

A further factor in the hotels’ ambitions for beach exploitation is the Costas’ bureaucracy. An aspect of this does badly need to be changed, and it is that which relates to the annual rigmarole that is gone through to establish provisions for beach management and for licensing operations.

The annual bureaucratic procedures have the effect of inhibiting investment. If a beach operator cannot be sure of running a beach from year to year then it is understandably reluctant to commit itself too heavily. Meliá wouldn’t, one would imagine, put up with such uncertainty.

If there were to be a relaxation of this bureaucratic burden, it could only be a good thing. It would prevent, one would hope, the kind of delays that have bedevilled beach management operations in Puerto Pollensa, and it might also be hoped that further relaxations would get rid of the nonsensical situation whereby an operator such as Sail and Surf in Puerto Pollensa cannot put out buoys for larger craft out of high season, so restricting its ability to extend the resort’s tourism season.

This constraint is another of the Costas’ domains, just one that has consistently placed it at loggerheads with business and especially the hotels. In Mallorca, there is an added dimension. The local head of the Costas is Celesti Alomar, the former (socialist) tourism minister who was responsible for the despised eco-tax that the hotels were charged with collecting and which, in some cases, they never handed over.

The Costas locally has brushed up against some heavy hitters, not least in Muro where its interpretation of coastal demarcation and the almost unworkable notion of land that is “influenced by the sea” have threatened hotels’ interests. To put it mildly, there is no love lost when it comes to the hotels’ attitude towards the Costas.

So now the hotels can sense the opportunity to get the law changed and also bring the Costas down a peg or two. As a protecter, it does a valuable job, but its role as enforcer has created too many enemies. If the law does change and if the Costas finds itself with a diminished role, this may be no bad thing. But would things go too far in the other direction? The privatisation of the beaches and of the water.

Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.

The Weever’s Tale And The Drowning Man

A common theme of most Mallorcan summers has been conspicuous by its absence this year. Jellyfish. “Plagues” or threats of plagues have not materialised, for which we should all be grateful. The absence of any biblical style invasions of the “medusa” and the resultant absence of their reporting by the media may explain why an attack by a different nasty of the waters merited some column inches. A German woman was stung by a weever fish in Peguera the other day. At first, I thought I was going to be reading that she had been killed. Thankfully, this wasn’t the case, but quite why it was necessary to report a weever-fish attack I honestly can’t say. Maybe it’s still the silly and a very slow news season.

It’s not as though there aren’t other weever-fish incidents. A former neighbour of mine was stung close to the shore in Playa de Muro three summers ago. It was, in his words, indescribably painful. Actually, given that he is French, these weren’t his words, but they amounted to the same. The sting required a trip to the hospital, but this was as much precautionary as really necessary.

Fatality by fish is extremely rare. In 1998 there was a death, that of a British teenager swimming off Cala Blava. The cause was something of a mystery, but it was almost certainly as the result of an acute allergic reaction to being stung by a “spider fish”, which is how the weever is known locally (“pez araña”).

The waters around Mallorca don’t hold great terrors, but they claim lives every year. In the Balearics as a whole, eighteen people have drowned so far this summer, one more than in 2010. Playa de Muro, for some reason, seems to attract more than its fair share of drownings. Over the space of ten days at the end of August there were three fatalities.

It is not as though there is anything dangerous about the sea off Playa de Muro. The water is shallow, and the sea only becomes potentially risky with an undertow or the wrong sort of wind. Even then, it can’t really be described as dangerous, no more so than any other shallow water subject to the same conditions. A common link in the three drownings was that of age; each swimmer was over 60 years old. The emergency services (by which one primarily means the Cruz Roja, the Red Cross) attributed the drownings to cardiac failure. Around 70% of all drownings in the Balearics are of people over the age of 60.

Advice on keeping safe when swimming includes not swimming alone, not swimming when there are no lifeguards on duty, i.e. too early in the morning, too late in the evening or at night, and even taking care if there are too many people in the water; it can be more difficult for a lifeguard to detect a swimmer in trouble when the sea is packed.

The advice is sound enough but is easily and temptingly ignored. Of the drownings that have occurred, the circumstances have not generally been exceptional. One of the drownings in Muro, for example, occurred at 3.30 on a Sunday afternoon. Maybe there were a lot of people in the water, but who considers this when going for a swim? Unfortunately, unfortunate things happen.

Indeed, the emergency services reckon that incidences of “reckless” swimming are on the decline. By reckless, one presumes they mean ignoring red flags, though it is not entirely clear, as it is also not entirely clear what Muro town hall means when it says that reckless swimmers will be fined.

Presumably not reckless, albeit she was swimming solo, was Teresa Planas who has just completed the 40-kilometre crossing between Menorca and Mallorca in under 14 hours. It’s as well that’s she has completed it, as the sea between the two islands is where the risk of the phenomenon of the meteotsunami (“rissaga”) is at its greatest, and as the autumn equinox approaches, so the risk increases.

The sea and the beach come with very few risks. Drownings are generally unavoidable if they are the result of a health malfunction. Treading on weever fish is hard to avoid. But there is one risk and one example of, if you like, recklessness that can be avoided. That is the beach at night. The sea may not be risky, unless you’ve gone skinny dipping on a tankful, but if you have gone skinny dipping, you may not find everything as you left it. Even if you keep your clothes on and just go for a walk, there is a risk. It’s best avoided.

Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.

Still Waters: The beach and great heat

When Africa blows northwards. It’s not the sort of scirocco or “xaloc” that can whip up gales, but a sharp and engulfing Saharan electric blanket of wind that lashes the interior and which, mysteriously, leaves the beach and sea serene and becalmed. When Africa blows northwards, the hundred mark is nudged and sometimes tipped over.

Serene. When Africa blows northwards, the beach and sea are an s-word of the sublime, the soporific, the sensational, the sensuous and sensorial. Contrast this with when elsewhere blows, and the sea is all of a “t”, turbulent, tumbling and troubling. Our moods are determined by the senses, and the beach and sea play games with us. Surf is up, and it leaves us agitated, buffeted by movement into fretfulness or a pressure towards activity. Waves bring noise and turmoil. The “ventus” of marine energetics creates a hyperventilation of both mind and soul. We cannot rest or relax.

Serene and still. Much as we might pit ourselves against force, much as we might even enjoy doing so, when the sea ceases to move we are consumed by the dream-world consciousness it creates, a sensorial state of being heightened by the sensuousness of the sensational drifts from blues to greens, of the sheer statics, of the caress of discreetly lapping water on the sand. Of all colour combinations, no others hold greater symbolism than the conjoining of the largely imagined blue and yellow of sea and beach. They are imagined, because they aren’t quite that simple. And only when all is serene and still – on the beach – do we really begin to appreciate the complexity of colour that gives rise to this imagination.

There are times, as there will have been times these past couple of days, when Africa has blown northwards, when the chatter and babble of the beach evaporate. It is a soporiferous and collective will of quiet, one induced by the barely audible lullaby of waves and the mass hypnosis of observing a sea without movement.

Wrapped in this colossal heat, but soothed by the maternal and gentle strokes of breeze, we are aware as to how perfect, or rather perfection, came to be a word, and if it’s the case that it is one we strive to attain or at least be party to, then when Africa blows northwards and the beach and sea play a quiet game of somnolence, we might just have realised it.

Playa de Muro, late August.

Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.