Acts Of Mindless Vandalism

So you arrive at your bar in the morning. Seems normal enough. Until, that is, you notice that something is not quite right.

Mindless vandalism does not always require grand gestures, those of highly visible destruction or defacement. Sometimes its nature catches you out. Like break-ins, and don't I know, initially you don't latch on, until it becomes apparent. Some time on Saturday morning, someone decided to try and pull the barrier out of the ground between the doctor's clinic and the Foxes Arms in Puerto Alcúdia. Decided to do this and also try and break in half a strut holding up the "toldo" (terrace sun shade). This someone didn't succeed in either. The barrier didn't look worse for wear, until you touched it; the strut was bent rather than broken. But the extent of the damage didn't matter. There was, as always with these things, a sense of invasion. The visible signs may not have been that obvious, but a broken this or a broken that is dangerous - for the customer. It means a day closed, a day's loss of earnings and a day spent spending money on some repairs.

A different matter. There are new neighbours. Hotel workers. Polish, it would seem. Let's not go down the Poles-on-the-rampage routine of the Don Pedro hotel in Cala San Vicente last summer, as in let's not start castigating an entire nation. But. But, when the noise on the terrace is sufficient to require two visits - from myself - to let them know that there is noise on the terrace, then I get - how do I put it - a tad hacked off. The noise is most uncommon in a quiet urbanisation. It is most out of place. Two warnings, I was at pains to point out, despite three chaps seemingly prepared to confront me. Two warnings. Number three, and I hate the idea, and it's the "denuncia". They got my drift. They might also know that I can find out which hotel they are working at. Hotels do not take kindly to being told by stroppy neighbours that their shipped-in workforce is keeping these stroppy neighbours from their shut eye. Especially as they are usually handing over the ackers for the workforce to keep stroppy neighbours awake.

Unlike residencies close to hotels and the commercial centres, you do expect peace and quiet. It's why people don't live near to hotels and commercial centres. If you do, then you have to expect rather less peace and quiet. There is also the business about the definition of "evening" and "night". This may seem bizarre, but it is a facet of the law. Noise on a domestic terrace, after midnight, is equal - in law - to noise on a bar terrace.

Yet, these two incidents are curiously instructive. In my discussions with those with several decades of living in Alcúdia, Pollensa and elsewhere, it is clear that there is a certain nostalgia for the old days of the "generalisimo". Heaven forbid, you might think. But crime was almost non-existent. No one would think of smashing a toldo support for fear of getting a thrashing from the Guardia and a lengthy stretch in the slammer. On the other hand, back in the days before Franco died, no one did much about noise. You could be on terraces till the wee smalls, playing music, dancing, drinking. It didn't matter. Now it does. The perpetrator of the Foxes vandalism will not be found, he will not get a police kicking or a sentence, but the hotel workers, high-spirited but not malicious, can get a police visit or can get a hotel-issued one-way ticket back to Poland. It doesn't, somehow, make much sense.


Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.