Not Welcome

Here's something charming. Charming in the sarcastic form.

A sign was placed in front of a shop in Alcúdia which read something to the effect of no entrance without prior notice to dogs and Romanians.

As I said, charming huh?

Maybe it's one of those little racist jokes. Like the Lewis Hamilton joke. You know, the joke that is acceptable because a bit of racism is not taken seriously. Nah, it's just a joke, mate. No offence. And there were apologists, even among the English media (one at least who lives in Spain), that agreed the Hamilton thing wasn't too clever, but one had to understand ... Yea, yea, yea.

I happen to know some Romanians, and I don't reckon they will see the joke.

This story, as reported in the "Diario", did not actually mention the shop in question in its main feature, but it did show a picture, did mention the proprietor (who apparently has form of a "discriminatory" nature) and did also have a side bar which did mention the shop. Beep. The computer shop in Alcúdia. I was shocked. Somehow I found it hard to associate this sort of thing with a computer store and especially with Beep, a shop I know quite well and which has had a fair amount of euros of mine pass over its counter. Well, I think I might think twice in the future.


Sorry, this is a bit dashed-off today. No quiz. It's known as all day at the printers and it's done my head in. And there will probably be another similar day tomorrow, and I had to go to the hospital with an infected toe, and I haven't slept since ...

Till tomorrow. Maybe.


QUIZ
Yesterday's chain - Captain Sensible did "Happy Talk" from "South Pacific". Today's title - Extreme. No quiz today.

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More Than Words

The advertising slogan. The main purpose of the slogan is, or should be, to create recognition and recall and therefore to project the product or service firmly to the front of mind of the consumer. "Buy one, get one free!" is not a slogan, it is a sales pitch. "Naughty but nice" is a slogan (and extra points today if anyone knows who coined the slogan). The slogan, be it enigmatic or blatant, has to have the force of the advertising and marketing that supports it; it also has to be strong enough to command that recall and to reinforce the branding of which the slogan is one aspect and sometimes the defining aspect. Some slogans work on the basis of a form of reverse psychology. This blog has one - "don't tell anyone about it!" The thinking is that it both strengthens a degree of personal ownership within a kind of abstract exclusive club of "blogotees" and also makes the reader do precisely the opposite. At least that's the theory and, take my word for it, I can theorise about marketing till Hell freezes over. But, you'll be pleased to know, I won't; well not much.

The reverse psychology, because it causes the reader to pause and think, is, in many ways, a more powerful prompt than the less demanding of slogan, always assuming that the consumer "gets it". The reverse hypothesis operates on the principle that the consumer does not interpret the message at face value.

One of the most famous advertising disasters was the "you're never alone with a Strand" cigarette slogan captured in an advert with a man alone on a street. What it hoped to say was either that by puffing away on this particular fag you would be everyone's mate (this was in the days when smoking was a more or less de rigueur social habit) or that you could indeed be alone but the Strand would keep you company. Either way, it was not taken as the advertisers (Wills in this case) would have hoped, as the consumer perceived it to mean simply that the smoker in the ad was a lonely git. Despite its popularity as a piece of advertising cinema, the ad was swiftly axed. No reverse occurred; it was taken as was - for Strand read loneliness, which was a negative and therefore incompatible with creating a positive brand image. The theory of the slogan and the advertising that accompanies it are nought without the knowledge of the practice of the consumer's thought process.

This is all by way of introduction to the fact that the keepers of the marketing of Mallorca at the tourism council have come up with a dynamic new slogan of their own - indeed one main slogan with three variants. This is: "much more than ...". The blankety-blank cheque book and pen goes to those who can append the words - "golf", "meetings" and "good food", for these make up the three differing sloganettes. The "more than" tag is hardly original, while the addition of "much" hints at a certain desperation. But the slogan, any of the three, has a certain reverse psychology appeal in a sense, in that - at least I guess this is the thinking - it makes the consumer say to him or herself, oh I didn't know there was golf/meetings/good food in Mallorca (delete as applicable). The problem is that the same consumer may just take the slogan at face value and ask: "what much more?" And herein does indeed lie a problem as there isn't much more if indeed any more. Alternatively, the consumer may ask: "Why are they saying 'more than golf'? Don't they mean that golf is more than just the beach?"

What they want to get across is that Mallorca has much more than just sun and beach to offer. Hard though I am trying to accept the logic of a slogan that is essentially illogical, I'm afraid I cannot; in short, it's not very good. Moreover, the slogan comes back to the basic misapprehension that seems to exist in the Mallorcan marketing mindset, i.e. that there is a lot of mileage in tourism diversification as typified by golf, meetings (and conferences) and gastronomy. It also comes back to another misapprehension that by failing to play on Mallorca's greatest assets - the sun and the beach - it fails to build on that very core image. A slogan that went "much more than sun and beach" might well be crap but it would both acknowledge the central brand image of Mallorca while, at the same time, seeking to establish that tourism diversification with which they feel they can attract great hordes of new-style tourists. But the chosen slogan attempts cutesy cleverness and could be said to be confusing. It seeks to jolt with a type of stylistic joke. However, as my hypothetical consumer might ask: "Have they got this right? Shouldn't it be more than sun?" Indeed when I first read about this slogan (in "The Bulletin") I did myself wonder if there was a mistake, so I looked it up on the Internet and discovered that it was correct.

There is, however, another potential angle to this slogan, one that is largely irrelevant to an overseas audience but may well be resonant with a Spanish one, and a Catalan one in particular. This is that Barcelona Football Club has long had the Catalan slogan "més que un club" (more than a club). As I alluded to yesterday, Barca and the team's following go well beyond that part of Catalonia. The slogan will be known to many; it was adopted in the latter years of Franco to emphasise the club's centrality to Catalonian autonomy (as it still does). The Mallorcan slogan may well be purely coincidental; as I say, the words "more than" are common enough in advertising (and, I daresay, so are their equivalents in Spanish or Catalan advertising). But the Barca slogan has a power and a directness; the Mallorca one has neither.


QUIZ
Yesterday's chain - the connection was Rat Scabies, the drummer. Among The Damned's numbers was Captain Sensible. So what's his connection with Rodgers and Hammerstein? Yesterday's title - Robin Hall and Jimmy McGregor. Today's title? American. Lots of hair.

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Football Crazy

The beautiful game. And for the bar-owners of Alcúdia, Pollensa and hereabouts, the beautiful game is a thing of beauty. The miserable weather helped, but yesterday the tills were scorching even if the weather was most certainly not; another ring and the chatter of till-roll listing John Smiths and Saint Micks by the score. And the score may not even have mattered as watching some footy was at least something to do. Save for a play-off or Cup final here, a Champions League final there, the beautiful game is poised to be less a thing of beauty by the end of the month. The Euro championships, embarrassingly minus any British Isles representation, will be more a thing of "belleza" and "Schönheit" for the Spanish and the Germans than it will be for the Brit and Irish contingents and for their bars. But the Spanish bars will be a chorus of "España", España". One had only to witness the masses clustered in front of screens for the Barcelona-United games to realise that the urge to commune in public in support of one's team is far from limited to the English football fan.

For the Brit bars, the absence of the home nation teams is a double-edged sword; it means less interest in the Euro championships and therefore fewer Euros passing across the counter, but it - so the theory goes at any rate - also means that fewer tourists will be tempted to put off or delay their holidays. I've never necessarily subscribed to that theory, but be that as it may. The Brit bars may not rely on football to get punters through the door but it definitely does not harm business - assuming there is a team to support.

Something of a curiosity, especially in Alcúdia given its strong associations with Germany, is the lack of German bars. Off the top of my head, I can think of not one that actually goes out of its way to advertise itself as such. It is strange that the British, among the foreign bar market, have that market more or less cornered. For lack of German, read also paucity of Swedish, Dutch and even French.

Yet there will be plenty of supporters of the beautiful game here during the Euro championships - Germans, Dutch, Swedes, French, Italians - everyone except the British or Irish. So, here's a thought. Those Brit bars. Haul down the Union Jack for a couple of weeks or hoist up a German flag next to it, get some crates of Erdinger in and some Wurst and Sauerkraut. Or for the French, lay on some cases of Bordeaux and paté. For the Swedes? Frankly, I haven't got a clue but any alcohol at Mallorcan rates is an incentive to a Swede.

But once the football has truly ended and there is the hiatus until the kick-off of the 2008-9 season, what can fill the bar TV gap? The answer is very little, except for the obsession with soaps. Despite the notion that 20-20 could become the world's premier team sport (fat chance), cricket, especially test cricket, does not fill the bars. It takes too long. And that about sums it up. The tourist will gladly set aside 90 minutes from the beach or other holiday attractions for some football, but a few hours for some cricket or tedious heats of the 5000 metres at the Olympics or a three-hour slog on Centre Court or God knows how long around the Open golf course? No. Football. And for the bar it is the one sport that matters, not just because of the money it brings but also because it is the most social of all the sports, which is why so many choose to watch in a bar. Most social and the one most likely to generate the most animosity as well. Forget all that stuff about the Germans.


QUIZ
Yesterday's chain - Whitney Houston to Bobby Brown to "Bobby Brown" by Frank Zappa and therefore The Mothers. And Frank Zappa was responsible for "Hot Rats". So what's the connection with that and The Damned? Easy. Today's title - who popularized this?

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Wet, Wet, Wet

Oh woe, oh misery. There we were applauding the weather for greeting the new season with its hat at a jaunty angle, a cheery whistle and a distinct spring in its step, and then what does it go and do? It reaches again for its mufflers and sweater, moans into a warming mug and then shuffles along the chill streets avoiding swiftly moving taxis playing "splashy-splashy". If it's the season, it must be pissing down. And so it has been. Small and rather cold comfort it will be to the tourist, but the reservoirs needed the water, and so they have had it - in great container loads.

Thursday was a distinctly iffy day and Thursday turned into Friday and the weekend. A wet weekend in Mallorca. In May. Even more cold comfort comes in the knowledge of high-summer heat in England. Woe, woe and thrice woe.

I have never bought this oh it doesn't matter if the weather's crap on holiday, we'll have a good time anyway line of argument. Why not just admit to misery? I would. And, more's to the point, how can you have a good time when it's lashing down here? Some family members, mainly the men, may find solace in several beverages at a local inn showing the dying moments of the Premier League season, but as for the rest? No beach, no pool, no excursions, no walking, no nothing, for there is nothing. If the weather decides to be malevolent and dump sufficient precipitation to match the floods of Noah, there's no point trying to justify that all is wonderful. It is not; it's rubbish. And then, when you phone home, and the neighbours are enjoying a barbecue on a balmy English evening while you are shivering and wet and terminally hacked off, all you want to do is to remind yourself to insert that mobile into a part of the neighbour on your return. Because however much you say with as much of a laugh as you can muster - oh it doesn't matter, we're having a great time - you know you are not and that you hate your neighbour and his good weather and hate even more the fact that, once off the phone, that neighbour will have a damn good laugh at your expense. Ho, ho, ho, in Mallorca, when they could be getting sunstroke in Swindon. Woe, woe, and several more times woe. Best not to phone home and then pretend that the bad weather miraculously missed you, the only problem being ... how to explain the fact that, on return, you are less suntanned than when you left.


QUIZ
Yesterday's chain - Bryan Adams to "Everything I Do" to "Robin Hood" to Kevin Costner to "The Bodyguard", Whitney Houston and "I Will Always Love You". And how to get from Whitney to The Mothers of Invention. Yesterday's title - Deacon Blue, "Your Town".

(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)

Let's Say It Like It Is

As hinted at yesterday, that appraisal of Puerto Pollensa, an appraisal offered through the eyes of visitors, in this case the parents of someone well-known to me who operates in both ports - Alcúdia and Pollensa. It is interesting as it is opinion somewhat removed from the everyday proximity of those who live here and comes from people who are - and I quote - "well-travelled and easily pleased". In a way, this is the latest in a series of instalments about Puerto Pollensa, one of the more recent of which was 17 April ("Wonderland"). That was far from uncritical of the town. Now, it is certainly not my intention to enter into some form of "get Puerto Pollensa" movement. Quite the contrary. But it so happens that the town does seem to be attracting more than its fair share of comment, much of it less than positive. Were I to receive similar for Alcúdia, I would share this as well, but it also so happens that I don't. I stress the on the "contrary", as the negativity disappoints and should inspire a movement of its own - to put one of Mallorca's finest resorts back on the right tracks. Appended to the email I received yesterday was a comment which said that "for a tourist resort that sells itself as family friendly and of a high quality, it better get ready for a big shock ... Pollensa Council needs to get itself sorted out or a lot of people will suffer". And this does rather encapsulate what is being said, and said quite widely, and has been said for a fair while now.

In a nutshell, what this appraisal brought forth were the opinions that there is building work everywhere, that if you stand back and take a good look it (the resort) is not that nice, it is just flats, and that the beach smells of poo. Of these, the whiff of excreta is not unique to Puerto Pollensa beach, but there has been something of an ongoing sewage problem in a part of the beach. But this is not or should not be a major issue. What is, is the transformation of the place. And all that building work is mainly to blame. It is difficult to any longer justify Puerto Pollensa's claim to the word "charming", with the exception of the pinewalk which my correspondents like.

The fact that these same correspondents agree that Alcúdia is a nicer place is not the first such comment along these lines that has come my way. That it is being said should make people take due note. It is not so long ago that such a statement would have been met with a degree of scoffing; not any longer though.

I have a suspicion that there is a malaise of complacency in Puerto Pollensa, both among the authorities and some who live there, but even among the latter there are stirrings, such as those comments aired by Garry Bonsall to "The Bulletin" the other day. But complacency I fancy there is, and it is a complacency founded on a reputation - one of a degree of exclusivity and of prettiness - that started to fade a while ago and continues to do so.

Puerto Pollensa has long judged itself a place of that ghastly term - quality tourism. I hate this description for its elitism and smugness. Moreover, it does not obtain to the extent that may well once have been the case. Stories of families of four who share one pizza are as common there as they are along The Mile in Alcúdia. Nevertheless, one of the the main differences between Puerto Pollensa and Puerto Alcúdia (apart from the obvious absence of a Mile in the former) is the far greater number of hotels in the latter. The proportion of holidaymakers staying in non-hotel accommodation in Puerto Pollensa is significantly higher than Alcúdia, a factor that does - still - lend a sense of exclusivity. My guess is that were one able to conduct a survey of wealth by unit of holidaymaker, Puerto Pollensa would still be - proportionally - a "richer" resort than its neighbour. But this only goes to emphasise the fact that the place no longer lives up to the type of reputation that attracted this category of holidaymaker in the first place. It comes back to complacency and questionable decisions. Many said that the arrival of Burger King a few years back was something of a nail in the coffin. I felt people didst protest too much, but maybe they had a point. Since then, there has been the Dakota-isation of the front line, and all that building. And let's not even go on again about the roads - it is not just Gotmar that has been neglected, try avoiding the holes along Roger de Flor and Pere Melia, just as starters.

Coming back to the email, the "shock" that might be in store for Puerto Pollensa could come from the "first journo who comes ... and does a write-up for 'The Mail' or some rag like that. Boom - drop in bookings - it's as easy as that." Better stop putting stuff on this blog then.


QUIZ
Yesterday's chain - Paul Simon to Art Garfunkel to "Bright Eyes", "Watership Down" and Richard Adams to Bryan Adams and therefore "Summer of 69". And so how do you get from the Groover from Vancouver to "I Will Always Love You". Yesterday's title - Talking Heads. Today's title - more old favourites; the line that precedes this is "living out in your town".

(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)

Road To Nowhere

On the day that "The Bulletin" front-pages with a story about the possible reclaim of beach in Puerto Pollensa, in my inbox I have received a sort of appraisal of Puerto Pollensa - but more of that probably tomorrow.

Anyway, to this beach reclaiming carry-on. The coastal authority wallahs have this idea of ripping up the road that runs along the coast between Alcúdia and Puerto Pollensa. One presumes that this was, at one time, beach or at least scrubby dunes that formed a boundary with the little Albufera of Albufereta. The coasts overseers are, one has the impression, a group of revisionist, back-in-time, environmentally correct beardies who would rather see all beaches revert to their virgin state, untrammelled by anything of human manufacture and indeed untrampled upon by human foot. But in the case of this particular road, I am inclined to agree with them, doubtless for totally different reasons to the ones they hold. These, at least I presume, are to do with ecological sensitivity and sea defence and erosion and all the usual damage-to-the-environment suspects. Mine, however, have to do with the fact that not only is the road dangerous (witness the accidents along this stretch in the past) it is also a liability when a gale is blowing, the sea is rough and a small rock lands on the bonnet. Of course, were there to be a new "beach", do not expect for one moment that it would be somewhere with lines of sunbeds (not of course that there are any in Puerto Pollensa) and some beach bars serving welcoming cold drinks. No, it would be "rustic" and therefore piled high with all that attractive seaweed.

Of course, tearing up this particular stretch of tarmac begs the question: what, in terms of vehicular access, might replace it? Unless the eco-agitpropists are envisaging some form of human flight or the isolation, from each other (not necessarily a bad thing some might argue), of Puerto Pollensa and Alcúdia inhabitants, then there would need to be another road. Another road, another group of enviros objecting, and probably with due cause, as an obvious alternative would go straight through Albufereta. There is also the not small matter of why this wasn't raised a bit earlier, as the new road that connects the coast road to Puerto Pollensa by the Caprabo roundabout is just about ready for its inaugural drive. So any further road would have to at least meet up with a part of this new road, which would still leave some of it going nowhere. Then there would need to be at least some connections into the back of the likes of the Club Sol Apartments, unless they're planning on knocking them down while they're at it.

Reassuringly though, for those who might worry about the road being sanded-over by human-on-behalf-of-nature intervention, if the experience of the nearly new road is anything to go by, it will take 40 years before it happens, by which time the sea will have done it for them and washed the road away in any event. So let's not get too worried.


And for those of you who will have been wondering why no mention of the General Franco scuppered Cliff's chances story, go to Blog MV to find out why the General was quite right.


QUIZ
Yesterday's chain - Buzz Lightyear to Tim Allen (the voice of Buzz) to "Home Improvement" to Al, his partner in "Tool Time", to "You Can Call Me Al", Paul Simon. And so, how do you get from Paul Simon to "Summer of 69"? Yesterday's title was one of those is-it-not-Neil Diamond moments but wasn't. John Paul Young. Today's title? Old favourites of this quiz.

(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)

Love Is In The Air

"I'm getting married in the morning, ding-dong the karaoke's gonna chime."

Ah yes, the Mallorcan wedding. One of the oddest things that crops up both in my inbox and elsewhere is the advice on getting tied here. Well maybe it's not odd, as such, just I am surprised by the regularity with which marriage in Mallorca registers - so to speak. Accordingly, I am going to be completely useless at imparting good info as I am totally confused as to the deal with getting hitched if you don't happen to be a resident or a Spaniard. I thought that you had to be a resident to actually have a religious wedding or that you could have (if not resident) a form of blessing were you already married. Whatever. If someone actually knows the lowdown, I would be very appreciative if you could give me the definitive line.

But this is largely by the bye, as I am reliably informed, by the bar-owner himself, so it is beyond doubt, that more or less everyone who passes through the portals of Vamps in Puerto Alcúdia ends up proposing marriage. Well no, not to Les (at least I don't think so), but to someone else. Actually, it isn't everyone (I made that up), but never let a touch of exaggeration spoil a good story. Quite what it is about Vamps that sets its punters down the road to the aisle I'm not sure. Perhaps it's the optical illusion thing there behind the bar. And so, next morning in the cold light of the hangover, it's a case of having been down on one knee to what was a thing of beauty through the haze of an adrenaline cocktail, but which turns out to be the garbage container at the back of the Astoria Playa hotel. But maybe I'm wrong. Perhaps love is truly in the air off The Mile, as opposed to the waft of curry emanating from Taste of India.

On having all this related to me, I had this image of the Reverend Les presiding over the congregation to a karaoke accompaniment, one that I duly informed Les of, to which he responded that, rather than "dearly beloved", those in the pews (or on bar stools in this instance) would be addressed as "dearly bedraggled", and I shall genuflect with due acknowledgement in face of a bar-owner knowing better than myself the demeanour of his clientele.

It just so happens that I recently received an email asking for advice as to somewhere nice "outside" for getting married - in Alcúdia that is. I duly suggested the likes of La Terraza overlooking the sea at Alcanada or perhaps the square in front of the Sant Jaume church (always assuming the good burghers of Alcúdia would countenance such a thing). What I hadn't considered, till now, was next to the pool table on the Vamps terrace, a tattoo for the groom next door at the tattoo studio while he waits for his bride and a tikka masala wedding breakfast for all at the Indian. So, next time I get asked about a good spot for tying the knot ... .


QUIZ
Yesterday's chain - Springsteen to "Philadelphia" to Tom Hanks to Woody in "Toy Story" and therefore Buzz Lightyear. Easy. And from Buzz to Paul Simon? And today's title - who?

(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)