The Price You Pay: Little stickers and doner kebabs

The price you pay, otherwise known as part three of the end of tourism life, a recurring story of everyday despairing tourist-business folk.

The price you pay. It hasn't started yet, but it can't be far off. The "authorities must do something about it". I'm thinking that this should be the title of my new book, which I haven't written and which I haven't actually even thought about. But a good title, nonetheless. The price you pay. Take, for example, a newspaper.

Something, shrewd observers among you might have noticed, is that newspapers print prices on them. Different countries, different prices. Two euros for whatever, two euros it is, except when it isn't. Beware, therefore, the little yellow stickers or the little lime-green or pinky stickers. Ones with a price biro-ed on them. Because those two euros can very easily be joined by some ten centimos. The price you pay.

Remember the stuff about some sap complaining about having been fleeced of five euros for some paracetamol last year? It was evidence of Mallorca's too expensive, the authorities must, blah, blah. It was evidence of this, but it was evidence of something else, as it was illegal. You can only buy paracetamol in a chemists. Or rather, chemists are the only places licensed to sell paracetamol. It's a similar gig with newspapers. The price you pay, or should pay, is the one on the paper, not the one on the little sticker. It is illegal to sell a newspaper above the printed price.

The price you pay. Take also, for example, a bucket and spade. Lurking with intent on the Jolly Roger's pool-side terrace yesterday afternoon, I cocked an eager ear in the direction of a conversation which was taking place between two parties, conveniently some distance apart, which meant that they were more or less shouting and were thus easy to hear. One couple had handed over getting on for ten euros for some low-grade, brightly-coloured plastic items, the making of sandcastles being the purpose thereof. The other couple said, oh, we paid one euro, ninety-five. "They saw us coming," admitted couple one. Dead right they did. Couple one's bucket and spade had been purchased in a shop by the beach. "They've got you when you're there, haven't they," couple one reckoned, by way of justification. Up to a point, they have. But, as ever with these price things, go elsewhere and you will spend far less. Three-quarters less in the case of the lucky couple two.

Rather more in keeping with the current theme "de la semana", our end of tourism life one, news comes from The Mile, where one shop is reporting a 33% drop in sales, on top of a 20% overall decline last season. And in the more rarified atmosphere of Pollensa's villas, news there of villa bookings having slowed to a crawl, or worse. It's all the volcano's fault. The late-minute bookings seem not to be occurring, and yet it was these - and I had said as much myself here - that were set to make this season reasonable if not brilliant. Sod Iceland.

And finally ... A question for you. Why is that doner kebabs don't get advertised? As in, why is it that Indian restaurants, which double up as doner establishments, don't want any mention of kebabs? Maybe it's all to do with their marketing. Maybe they've stopped doing them. Or maybe there's some other reason. An Indian chap asked yesterday if I could remove the doner kebab from the sign in an advert. Yes, said I, not a problem. Yet, this is far from being the first occasion when I have experienced a reluctance to promote the doner. Why?


Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.