Sign O' The Times

Taking a walk on what was a sunny holiday yesterday and looking at the properties under construction or on offer, you get an impression as to the trough that the construction and real-estate sectors are in. One development, essentially a re-development, of two-to-three bedroomed chalets with a communal pool. The for-sale sign went up at least a year ago. I had not noticed until yesterday that there is a new sign. It says for sale or rent. "They can't sell them," I muttered. There was a nod of agreement. The only saving grace is that the properties are finished. This was not the case with the others. One of these, the development for which, in desperation one feels, there were brochures being put under car windscreens every Sunday when the beach was packed, has started work again. But who is going to buy? On these developments there are always signs up from the local council (Muro) with information as to the developer, the architect and the dates of agreement - when it was approved, when it was started, when it is scheduled for completion. As far as the latter information is concerned, it says, somewhat ambiguously, "two years". It is unclear whether it is two years from approval or from commencement. It probably doesn't matter. Who in their right mind is prepared to hand over a deposit for something that may or may not be finished next year some time, or later, or never at all? It's the developer caught between a rock and a hard place. The work has to continue with as much credit as can be extracted but without deposits to guarantee the next line of credit. Or so one presumes. Maybe there are people mad enough to stump up and wait and pray. Then there is another development. It has reached its completion date. It has not been completed. There is no work going on. One of the units is occupied, but the front of the development still has a builder's wire gate of a shield. Some time, perhaps, the people who have the sole unit will get some sort of wall and security entrance. They may have a long wait.

It is understandable that construction work is suspended during the tourist season, but this does the construction industry few or no favours. The developers are left with an unworked asset that becomes a liability because of the building hiatus. It has been something they could live with, but not now, especially not now. The developers need more flexibility as to when they can build, but they are unlikely to get it. The government is caught between the rock of tourism tranquility and the hard place of companies going out of business and workers chucked onto the dole queues. The symbiosis between Mallorca's tourism and its construction - its only two important industries - is also the island's weakness when the economic conditions are as weak as they are and have been for several months. Of course there is no guarantee that these properties will be bought in any event, but the summer break creates a strain that is impossible, and this summer break has been the breaking point.

Going further on the walk on this pleasant sunny day, there is the plot that has been there for so long, sandwiched between two striking homes with high walls and security paraphernalia. There is something new. On the pavement is a temporary workman's loo. There is no other work happening in the vicinity. Maybe it arrived yesterday. Maybe there is work due to start this coming week. And you wonder why. Why now? Perhaps someone with adequate funds has bought the plot for a new-build house for which he or she also has adequate funds. In that case it is probably ok, but the sign that has been on the plot for some two years suggests otherwise. The developers may be given few favours by the summer break, but they do themselves few favours either. Why start now? They should take a walk as well. It won't take long.

Then there are the prices. The house of the German neighbour who died during the summer. Two estate agents have valued it: one at 500,000, the other at 550,000. All the other neighbours want to know the value and then usually shake their heads or have to wait until they have translated the price into pesetas before then shaking their heads - ¡¡ochenta milliones!! The question that gets asked is normally how many millions, because they still operate in pesetas. And when they work it out, they crease their foreheads and think they've miscalculated. The house is fine, very pleasant, well-maintained with new kitchen etc etc. But it has only two bedrooms; it isn't that big. The agents say, oh well there could be a third bedroom or maybe there could be another storey on what is a flat-roofed bungalow. Yes, maybe there could be, but that costs money. And then there is the slight problem of some of the legality. An old, familiar story. Another neighbour - also German - said to me that the price was unrealistic. 350,000; that was more like it. I couldn't disagree with him. How do they arrive at these still inflated prices? Especially now.


QUIZ
Yesterday's title - Visage (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cznha2YTTh0). Today's title - genius but potty under whatever name.

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