I know everything.
There is nowhere I don't know. I am walking, talking information, a mobile information office. My Mastermind subject is the location of this or that. I shouldn't have to be. There are other forms of mobile information: the mobile phone, the TomTom for example. Or they could be, should be even. When will mobile information really catch on, do you suppose? When will it be unnecessary for everyone to be walking, talking dispensers of information, or not?
There's a petrol station in Puerto Alcúdia. It's the one by the Platja d'Or and Ivory Playa hotels, opposite the Eroski. I can tell you, without the need to refer to anything, assuming you cared, which you almost certainly wouldn't, the names of the roads in the vicinity. See, I know everything. Roses, Roselles, Savines, Vidalba, Oms. Any other road you want to know? Any hotel you want to know? How do I know all this? Because I do, and because I draw maps. Or used to, before maps were googled. There's a good google map of hotels and petrol stations and other places in Alcúdia. One I know about. I need to mention it some time ... to the chico ...
The chico didn't come out to fill the tank. I say fill the tank, no one fills a tank full now because petrol has become so expensive, not even the chico who's meant to fill the tank; the chico who normally comes out, but he didn't. So now I'm in the "shop", I suppose you call it that now. Now that it is a shop. I've partially filled the tank myself. The chico is glaring at a laptop. This is why he has not attended to being the pump-attendant. A red-faced German is by the counter. Red-faced, you guess, because of the sun. The chico recognises me. "Do I know ...?" Stupid question. The Marítimo. The hotel. He, the chico, is looking on the web. He has a piece of paper in front of him. It's the German's. Marítimo.
"Yes, I know where the Marítimo is. A couple of hundred metres. On the right side of the carretera." I felt embarrassed. The Marítimo's a whacking great edifice, just down the road. The chico didn't know. Why should he? He's only the chico at the petrol station. Maybe he lives in the opposite direction. Never goes that way. Two hundred metres towards Playa de Muro. He can't do them in Spanish, give directions, even were he to know. I can. I can do them in German as well. For the red-faced German. But I do them in English, because I'm being lazy. And it's not my job. He understands well enough. The chico seems relieved and serves someone else. And then she, German, starts to wave her arms around. Broken Spanish. Incomprehensible Spanish. She's red-faced. Maybe all Germans are red-faced. Something about "mercados" and a whole load of stuff that sounds like not markets in houses, whatever this is supposed to mean. Or not, because I, and the chico, haven't a clue what she's going on about. There's a supermarket opposite, says I, in Spanish. The chico nods. No, no, not a supermarket. Would she prefer to do this in English or German? Ah yes. She wants the market. Gotcha. In Alcúdia. I have a map. I am walking information, with my own printed cartographic information. The chico seems relieved. He might have said thank you, I think. I only went in to pay for the petrol.
It shouldn't be necessary. It's all there. Easy. On a mobile. But not yet. Some time. Some time in the future, there will be no difficult questions in petrol stations about hotels and markets. We've seen the future, but it's not here - yet. One day, all this will be different. And what I know will be irrelevant. No one will probably know anything in future. Because they won't need to.
After The Event - World Cup Song
Not quite after the event, because the event hasn't taken place, but long after the event of the whole gig about getting an England World Cup song going because the Fab-ster had pooh-poohed the notion of Rooney doing a Barnesy-style rap (about three months after the event), comes ... . Sorry, Nobby, it's crap. Linekers Bars' World Cup song.
The blog is still fully behind Jess Conrad and "Soccer Superstar" and I feel bound to mention - again - George and the Dragons' "Green Fields Of England", which is only marginally better than - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HiWEA5fUjUg
"Express yourselves." - "We want goals." We want Jess.
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
Showing posts with label Mobile phones. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mobile phones. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Telephone Line
1485. Some of you will recall that I lay claim to being a history scholar. Scholar is perhaps an over-exaggeration, but one I can live with. As a result though, show me certain numbers in combination and I am likely to be suddenly transformed into a weird beard with leather-patched sports jackets, i.e. a history tutor. 1485? Come on, you must know it as well. Kingdom for a horse and all that. Yes, you know it, of course you do. War of the Roses - Battle of Bosworth Field, 22 August 1485 to be precise, and Richard III begging for a horse while his crown hung on a thorn bush, or so said a certain playwright. 1485. It was also the year of birth of the unfortunate Catherine, she of Aragon and later the first missus of the lunatic Henry VIII. Well, I have to give some sort of a Spanish twist, do I not? There is another Spanish twist. 1485. The war of the mobile phone companies. How many times have I received a call from 1485 in the past week or so? I contacted Vodafone. Not because I hadn't anything better to do, but because they are the ones to whom I pay good money for the privilege of some twat pestering me with calls I don't want. "I've been getting this call from 1485," says I. "1485? Must be costing the caller a fortune." (Actually, they didn't say that.) "Do you know who it is?" asks I. "Is it a scam, a hack or what?" "None of them," comes the reply. "It's Movistar," they say with the hint of a laugh. "Marketing", they add; marketing being a word the Spanish (and not just the Spanish) tend to use, erroneously, to mean selling. "Movistar!?" "Movistar," they repeat.
For those of you who don't know, Movistar is the mobile wing of Telefonica, the national phone company. Movistar is making unsolicited calls to my mobile and to many others, if what I'm now seeing on the internet is anything to go by. There are many here who will have nothing to do with anything that is vaguely to do with Telefonica, and that includes Movistar. I am not one of them. I don't get upset by all-powerful organisations, though there are those, including the European Commission, who do: Telefonica is not unfamiliar with huge fines for uncompetitive, anti-trust activity. But I don't want them being a damn nuisance and calling my mobile with their automated system that repeats its call after half an hour, every day, when you don't bother answering, which is every time the number rings. Consequently, and very politely, do you mind sodding off?
There are many gifts that keep on giving here, as in being basically daft and continuing to be so. One such is, of course, the gloriously ridiculous projected golf course in Playa de Muro. My, what fun it has given us over the months and now years. What will we all do when they've actually built the damn thing? Not play golf on it, that's for sure. Anyway, as noted recently, Muro has managed to publicise the course as an attraction, despite it still being no more than a series of bunkers on an architect's plan and the winsome look of an endangered species on an environmentalist's sentimental propaganda. Mere bagatelle, implies the mayor, when it is pointed out that the course has neither been built nor fully approved. Bagatelle. Now that's a game where small balls are struck into numbered holes, is it not? A bit like golf, and just as pointless, or certainly just as pointless as the course in Muro.
One of the many problems for the golf course is that there is an apparently endless supply of environmentalists who emerge from the undergrowth and are willing to keep the whole debacle being debated. Step forth, therefore, the advisors on flora and fauna to the Balearic Government's environment department. They reckon that not enough is being done to protect the rare orchid on the Son Bosc finca; the rare orchid that has been the main subject of the environmental objection to the conversion of the finca. Now, given that this orchid is so rare and apparently so damn important, might it not have been an idea to ask these advisors before? Maybe. However, even had they been, what they have to say is not "binding". In other words, it doesn't count. So, why did they bother asking them? The point is that the course design has already been changed to accommodate this orchid. The eighth hole has been shifted as, originally, it would have meant some high handicappers trampling through the rough and hacking the orchid to pieces as they tried to get back on the fairway. Now, the enviro champions, GOB, have found that there's a problem with the seventh hole, too. Well, what a surprise. I wonder how long it will be before someone reckons there is a rare ant (or dec) breeding on the site of the green of the sixth hole. This can just go on and on, can't it. And it probably will. Maybe they could just build the first 16-hole golf course and have done with it. Or 15-hole. The gift that keeps on giving.
QUIZ
Yesterday's title - Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XDgq10Rsb-0). Today's title - perms and probably the alleged cello scrotum.
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
For those of you who don't know, Movistar is the mobile wing of Telefonica, the national phone company. Movistar is making unsolicited calls to my mobile and to many others, if what I'm now seeing on the internet is anything to go by. There are many here who will have nothing to do with anything that is vaguely to do with Telefonica, and that includes Movistar. I am not one of them. I don't get upset by all-powerful organisations, though there are those, including the European Commission, who do: Telefonica is not unfamiliar with huge fines for uncompetitive, anti-trust activity. But I don't want them being a damn nuisance and calling my mobile with their automated system that repeats its call after half an hour, every day, when you don't bother answering, which is every time the number rings. Consequently, and very politely, do you mind sodding off?
There are many gifts that keep on giving here, as in being basically daft and continuing to be so. One such is, of course, the gloriously ridiculous projected golf course in Playa de Muro. My, what fun it has given us over the months and now years. What will we all do when they've actually built the damn thing? Not play golf on it, that's for sure. Anyway, as noted recently, Muro has managed to publicise the course as an attraction, despite it still being no more than a series of bunkers on an architect's plan and the winsome look of an endangered species on an environmentalist's sentimental propaganda. Mere bagatelle, implies the mayor, when it is pointed out that the course has neither been built nor fully approved. Bagatelle. Now that's a game where small balls are struck into numbered holes, is it not? A bit like golf, and just as pointless, or certainly just as pointless as the course in Muro.
One of the many problems for the golf course is that there is an apparently endless supply of environmentalists who emerge from the undergrowth and are willing to keep the whole debacle being debated. Step forth, therefore, the advisors on flora and fauna to the Balearic Government's environment department. They reckon that not enough is being done to protect the rare orchid on the Son Bosc finca; the rare orchid that has been the main subject of the environmental objection to the conversion of the finca. Now, given that this orchid is so rare and apparently so damn important, might it not have been an idea to ask these advisors before? Maybe. However, even had they been, what they have to say is not "binding". In other words, it doesn't count. So, why did they bother asking them? The point is that the course design has already been changed to accommodate this orchid. The eighth hole has been shifted as, originally, it would have meant some high handicappers trampling through the rough and hacking the orchid to pieces as they tried to get back on the fairway. Now, the enviro champions, GOB, have found that there's a problem with the seventh hole, too. Well, what a surprise. I wonder how long it will be before someone reckons there is a rare ant (or dec) breeding on the site of the green of the sixth hole. This can just go on and on, can't it. And it probably will. Maybe they could just build the first 16-hole golf course and have done with it. Or 15-hole. The gift that keeps on giving.
QUIZ
Yesterday's title - Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XDgq10Rsb-0). Today's title - perms and probably the alleged cello scrotum.
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
Friday, October 17, 2008
Completely Automatic
One of the blog's early-days regulars was that of driving; the rubbish state of it here. It's been a while, but it's back, along with that associated old regular, the mobile phone.
It is now, what, two years since they introduced tougher penalties for driving infractions; I could look it up, but the length of time is not important. What is, or should be, are the points on the licence, the possible suspensions and so on. Yet the mobile phone is still very much the driver accessory-of-potential-accident choice. But it has occurred to me that, though illegal phone use goes on elsewhere, here there is an added dimension. I had stopped at some lights the other day. In the rear-view mirror I could see the female driver behind. She was gabbing on her phone. She looked quite nice, I'll be honest. Lots of smiles, a bit of a laugh, some very expressive hand gestures ... And that was it. Hand gestures. The Mallorcan/Spaniard cannot open his or her mouth without a full set of body language extravagance, whether talking on a mobile or in his or her sleep. Herein, therefore, lies the greater danger posed by mobile-phone use when driving in Mallorca. Hands free. Hands free from the wheel, that is. One hand for the phone, one hand for the gestures. You don't get too many cars with automatic transmission here, but they should be mandatory; automatic gear box and automatic steering, allowing the Mallorcan to pursue his or her normal, everyday conversations without the worry of actually handling a vehicle. The only problem then would be whether they were watching the road or looking at some passing totty, and the chances are that it would be the latter.
Where would we be, when it comes to roads, without our good friends on two wheels. Before you say that this is a dig at female drivers and cyclists, it is just coincidence that it was a female cyclist. For those of you who know the main road in Playa de Muro, you will be aware that, at lights, you are meant to turn right in order to turn left. I say meant to, as this does seem something of an option, but be that as it may. So, I'm duly following this rule, the lights flash orange and I start to cross the main road. And then I stop. A lady cyclist has decided to ride straight across in front of me through the red light. She sort of gestures (more gestures) to indicate that I should stop and let her go past. Well, I could have driven into her, but it wouldn't have got me very far. Instead, setting aside my normally cool nature, I shouted out the window "idiota". Made me feel a bit better. But the point of this is, of course, that I could have driven into her, and it would almost certainly have been deemed my fault, as cyclists are the sacred cows of the Mallorcan and Spanish road. It is, I would suggest, the thing that antagonises most where cyclists are concerned; that some appear to be unable or unwilling to obey some basic rules. And they know they can get away with it, generally. Only once have I seen someone pulled up, and she went through a red right under the noses of a Trafico 4x4. It would have been difficult even for them to have ignored it.
And finally on matters vehicular. At journey's end there is the parking, another not totally unfamiliar subject for this blog. I should like to thank John who has regaled me with a tale of the nature of fines in a car park in Datchet, in which he says:
"And then one that reminded me of Mallorca. If your wheels were outside the painted lines - £10 fine. I can remember how many people (locals I think) used to take up two bays when they parked. I found this very annoying, especially in the season when parking is at a premium. The local authorities could clean up at the parking area at the port in Alcudia."
Now, you know, the size of the fine is one thing, but the lack of, how can one call it, parking discipline, is another, and a very Mallorcan another at that. I once said that for the Mallorcan driver, why use one parking space when two will do just as well, because that's how it tends to be. I really must get a copy of the local equivalent of the "Highway Code" as I recall reading somewhere some gems that exist within its covers (assuming someone wasn't just being funny), One of these was the "rule" regarding double parking. Basically, ten minutes was considered the right sort of length, even, I guess, if you had only intended to park for a minute or two. Why double park and clog up the road for just one minute when ten minutes will do just as well; time enough to pop in for a quick coffee or into a tabacos to top up your mobile.
THE SPANISH GENERALS WAR BRIBES STORY
Churchill apparently bribed some Spanish generals in order to deter Spain from entering the Second World War. Big deal. Lining the pockets of another's military to keep them quiet is old-hat tactical stuff. Viking chieftains often received inducements to go and pillage somewhere else. They used to take the ancient moolah and then pillage those who'd paid them anyway. No honour in those days. The bribes are said to have been arranged through the banking intermediary Joan March, the founder of the present-day Banca March in Mallorca, and the suggestion is that they kept the generals sweet and therefore Spain sweet and out of the war.
It's a fascinating old parlour game to speculate what might have happened had Spain entered the war, but the fact is that it didn't. Whether the bribes made any difference is debatable. It's not as though figures in authority in Spain have been immune to the temptations of backhanders - then or since, or indeed at present. Unlike the Vikings they were probably quite content to have taken the money and run - away from the action to which they had little intention of seeing anyway. Maybe the bribes did make a difference, but it shouldn't be forgotten that Spain's military was in no fit state following the Civil War and that Franco didn't care much for Hitler, and the feeling was mutual. Maybe they just didn't like each other's stupid moustaches.
However, the story is not as new as it's being portrayed. If you do just a little bit of searching, you will find a reference to the claim and to the historian making it that dates back to 2004. And some of the reporting of it has barely touched on the key role of Joan March. The book in which the claim is made is in fact about March, who was born in Santa Margalida. Banca March was founded in 1926. March was a supporter of Franco, and was referred to as Franco's banker. Hang on a moment. What was all that stuff about things associated with Franco?
QUIZ
Yesterday's title - The Smashing Pumpkins (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GV_XMQ7uXHA). Today's title - American female trio, biggest in the '80s.
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
It is now, what, two years since they introduced tougher penalties for driving infractions; I could look it up, but the length of time is not important. What is, or should be, are the points on the licence, the possible suspensions and so on. Yet the mobile phone is still very much the driver accessory-of-potential-accident choice. But it has occurred to me that, though illegal phone use goes on elsewhere, here there is an added dimension. I had stopped at some lights the other day. In the rear-view mirror I could see the female driver behind. She was gabbing on her phone. She looked quite nice, I'll be honest. Lots of smiles, a bit of a laugh, some very expressive hand gestures ... And that was it. Hand gestures. The Mallorcan/Spaniard cannot open his or her mouth without a full set of body language extravagance, whether talking on a mobile or in his or her sleep. Herein, therefore, lies the greater danger posed by mobile-phone use when driving in Mallorca. Hands free. Hands free from the wheel, that is. One hand for the phone, one hand for the gestures. You don't get too many cars with automatic transmission here, but they should be mandatory; automatic gear box and automatic steering, allowing the Mallorcan to pursue his or her normal, everyday conversations without the worry of actually handling a vehicle. The only problem then would be whether they were watching the road or looking at some passing totty, and the chances are that it would be the latter.
Where would we be, when it comes to roads, without our good friends on two wheels. Before you say that this is a dig at female drivers and cyclists, it is just coincidence that it was a female cyclist. For those of you who know the main road in Playa de Muro, you will be aware that, at lights, you are meant to turn right in order to turn left. I say meant to, as this does seem something of an option, but be that as it may. So, I'm duly following this rule, the lights flash orange and I start to cross the main road. And then I stop. A lady cyclist has decided to ride straight across in front of me through the red light. She sort of gestures (more gestures) to indicate that I should stop and let her go past. Well, I could have driven into her, but it wouldn't have got me very far. Instead, setting aside my normally cool nature, I shouted out the window "idiota". Made me feel a bit better. But the point of this is, of course, that I could have driven into her, and it would almost certainly have been deemed my fault, as cyclists are the sacred cows of the Mallorcan and Spanish road. It is, I would suggest, the thing that antagonises most where cyclists are concerned; that some appear to be unable or unwilling to obey some basic rules. And they know they can get away with it, generally. Only once have I seen someone pulled up, and she went through a red right under the noses of a Trafico 4x4. It would have been difficult even for them to have ignored it.
And finally on matters vehicular. At journey's end there is the parking, another not totally unfamiliar subject for this blog. I should like to thank John who has regaled me with a tale of the nature of fines in a car park in Datchet, in which he says:
"And then one that reminded me of Mallorca. If your wheels were outside the painted lines - £10 fine. I can remember how many people (locals I think) used to take up two bays when they parked. I found this very annoying, especially in the season when parking is at a premium. The local authorities could clean up at the parking area at the port in Alcudia."
Now, you know, the size of the fine is one thing, but the lack of, how can one call it, parking discipline, is another, and a very Mallorcan another at that. I once said that for the Mallorcan driver, why use one parking space when two will do just as well, because that's how it tends to be. I really must get a copy of the local equivalent of the "Highway Code" as I recall reading somewhere some gems that exist within its covers (assuming someone wasn't just being funny), One of these was the "rule" regarding double parking. Basically, ten minutes was considered the right sort of length, even, I guess, if you had only intended to park for a minute or two. Why double park and clog up the road for just one minute when ten minutes will do just as well; time enough to pop in for a quick coffee or into a tabacos to top up your mobile.
THE SPANISH GENERALS WAR BRIBES STORY
Churchill apparently bribed some Spanish generals in order to deter Spain from entering the Second World War. Big deal. Lining the pockets of another's military to keep them quiet is old-hat tactical stuff. Viking chieftains often received inducements to go and pillage somewhere else. They used to take the ancient moolah and then pillage those who'd paid them anyway. No honour in those days. The bribes are said to have been arranged through the banking intermediary Joan March, the founder of the present-day Banca March in Mallorca, and the suggestion is that they kept the generals sweet and therefore Spain sweet and out of the war.
It's a fascinating old parlour game to speculate what might have happened had Spain entered the war, but the fact is that it didn't. Whether the bribes made any difference is debatable. It's not as though figures in authority in Spain have been immune to the temptations of backhanders - then or since, or indeed at present. Unlike the Vikings they were probably quite content to have taken the money and run - away from the action to which they had little intention of seeing anyway. Maybe the bribes did make a difference, but it shouldn't be forgotten that Spain's military was in no fit state following the Civil War and that Franco didn't care much for Hitler, and the feeling was mutual. Maybe they just didn't like each other's stupid moustaches.
However, the story is not as new as it's being portrayed. If you do just a little bit of searching, you will find a reference to the claim and to the historian making it that dates back to 2004. And some of the reporting of it has barely touched on the key role of Joan March. The book in which the claim is made is in fact about March, who was born in Santa Margalida. Banca March was founded in 1926. March was a supporter of Franco, and was referred to as Franco's banker. Hang on a moment. What was all that stuff about things associated with Franco?
QUIZ
Yesterday's title - The Smashing Pumpkins (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GV_XMQ7uXHA). Today's title - American female trio, biggest in the '80s.
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
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