The legend of the Black Madonna at Lluc monastery involves the shepherd boy Lluc (aka Luke). It's a legend and story well enough known that a conclusion - a wrong one - might be drawn. Lluc, as in the place, has nothing to do with the name of the shepherd boy. "Lluc" is derived from the Latin "lucu" to mean sacred forest. The name Lluc (or Luke) supposedly comes from the Latin name Lucas or the Greek Loukas to mean a man from the area of Lucania, with an alternative explanation being that it was from the Greek for giving light.
As with Lluc, the place, so also with Llucmajor, the difference being the "major" part. It means the largest sacred forest or simply the largest forest. As with many place names, there are all sorts of competing explanations, one other being that it comes from the Arabic for "over or near a place of refuge": in Catalan "lloc" means place and is the translation of the Arabic "ludjdj" (and no, I don't know how you pronounce this either).
Suffice to say, though, that in naming terms and so as with Lluc, Llucmajor has nothing to do with Luke. But just as Lluc has its legend of the shepherd boy, so Llucmajor has a person dear to its cultural and traditional heart: in this instance, Saint Luke. In case one needed any more confusion regarding place names, however, it might be noted that the legends of various Black Madonnas, of which the one at Lluc monastery is an example, have it that they were carved by Saint Luke: this is certainly the case with the Black Virgin of Montserrat.
Anyway, that's probably enough for origins of names. Today is the feast day of Sant Lluc, or Saint Luke if you prefer. One of the four Evangelists along with Matthew, Mark and John, Luke plays a vital role in Llucmajor's history as it was his feast day that came to determine when the town's fairs would be held. The first was to be on the day of Sant Miquel and the final one on the day of Sant Lluc, an arrangement which, much to the disgust of fifteenth-century fair organisers in Inca, meant that that town's autumn fairs had to be moved.
They make a great deal in Llucmajor about the longevity, the history and so the tradition of its fairs. Today brings to a close its 469th edition of the twenty-one days of fairs from Miquel to Lluc plus tomorrow's "Firó". There's a story that once upon a time they extended these by a further day and had a "Refiró" though this might just be a tall tale and a reflection of the fact that the fairs went on so long, they didn't actually know when to draw them to a close.
It is fair (sic) to say that in Llucmajor tradition, they have always spoken of fairs in the plural. There has not been "the fair" but there have been "the fairs", which is the case also in Inca. The rivalry between the two towns, dating back to the 1540s, is such that the Llucmajor versions are spoken of in the same breath as Inca's (if only by people from Llucmajor). Together they were the grandest and the largest of Mallorca's fairs, though it is reasonable (as a neutral) to suggest that Inca has now assumed number one spot in this regard.
But the final Llucmajor fair, falling as it does while summer still lingers, has a feeling of summer that the final Inca fair - Dijous Bo - does not. Hence, as it has been written of the fairs, "we leave the freshness of Arenal and return to the town to have almonds and carobs". And to also dress up. There is a whole story to be told of the association between a town's tailoring trade and its fiestas or fairs and of how the key events of the year would require a new suit, a new outfit, a new dress. It is a tradition that is long out of fashion, so to speak, but the final fair, the Saint Luke fair, was the day when the new clothes would be shown off and paraded next to the animal pens.
In Llucmajor its final fair keeps with tradition. It's not a themed fair but one very much of rural life. Along with the farm animals, there are also donkeys and the Mallorcan bulldog - the "ca de bou". And for its celebration, you have to thank old Saint Luke and the compromise reached with Inca all those years ago.
Next Sunday, never forgetting the fact that its fairs were shunted, Inca will go bigger than ever with its first fair. And, just to make a point, Inca has more than 21 days of fairs.
Showing posts with label Autumn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Autumn. Show all posts
Sunday, October 18, 2015
Monday, October 08, 2012
One Day, There Really Won't Be Autumn
Autumn is a strange season in Mallorca. Officially it exists but also doesn't exist. Meteorologically it is a reality, but for tourism it isn't. The tourism summer endures until the end of October, and then winter starts. There is nothing in between and nothing in between winter and summer. Mallorca, a land with no autumn and no spring.
Autumn can't be ignored though. Its evidence is all around and in particular in the way that its weather wraps around you. Its heat is discomforting and disorientating, a vaporous clamminess like a giant pink-paraffin heater. It rises from the dampness of the heavy dews, clings to the early-morning mists hanging over the wetlands and is suspended and static unless winds chase it away. This oily radiator warmth mixes with the watery atmosphere and gives birth to seasonal nuisances - the mosquitoes and the flies; always the flies, the scourge of autumn, only seconds away from invading your legs, hands, ears or nose, the moment you settle down on a terrace.
The heat is still sufficient for the beach, yet this is where the disorientation lies, along with a guilt factor. Should one really be going to the beach now that it is October? Isn't the beach something for July and August? How does one cope with autumn's heat as it doesn't feel quite right to cope with it in the same way as in summer?
The tourists don't struggle with this quandary. They carry on with bare flesh intent regardless, beach bound and unaware of a Mallorcan tradition that once the temperature dips below thirty it is time to get the cardy out of the wardrobe (where it will have been going musty over summer and so needs several washes and applications of apple-fragrance conditioner to restore it to wearing order). Otherwise, the most noticeable change in tourist behaviour and demeanour is the proliferation of ageing knobbly knees and backpacks, along with the incessant sound of Nordic Walking poles clunking against tarmac.
The October should-you-go-to-the-beach, shouldn't-you-go-to-the-beach dilemma is going to be resolved over the next few years. Well, it may take more than a few, but some time in the future the Mallorcan summer will encroach into winter. Hotels will not need to close at the end of October, flights will continue long into November, bars will stay open and no one will know how to cope with employment contracts that never normally extend beyond 31 October (if the employee is lucky).
Climate change is going to change the Mallorcan late season, so much so that the number of days that it will be possible, without any sense of disorientation or guilt, for one to be able to enjoy the beach and the sun in autumn will have doubled from around 30 at present to at least 60. I hadn't been aware that an official number of days that one can enjoy sun and beach in autumn had ever been calculated, but thanks to the meteorology department at the Universitat de les Illes Balears, I now do. And it is this department which says the autumn sun and beach days are set to increase by 100%. There won't be an autumn at all, it would seem.
If this is the case, the sooner a doubling occurs the better. If the Mallorcan summer also does a backwards encroachment into a Mallorcan winter, i.e. into March and April, as well as its forwards one at the end of the season, then there will be eight or nine months of season. Brilliant.
Unfortunately, we can't just immediately forget about having to arrange winter in Mallorca programmes and having to complain about lack of flights and lack of hotels being open. The meteorology people say it will be 2094 before 30 days become 60 days.
So, for the time being, we are left with what we have. Hotels starting to close, restaurants starting to close, newspaper and whitewash being gathered to cover windows and terrace glass doors, seasonal employees waving their goodbyes and bidding tearful farewells, the summer's workforce putting their documents together and trooping off to the dole office in the probably forlorn pursuit of some benefit, the piling up of wood, the worry that benign autumn weather will suddenly go pear-shaped and rip roofs off, and the dilemmas - beach or not, duvet or not, long trousers or not.
Autumn is a strange season and a strange time, but one of its least strange aspects is the consequence of the weather, bedding, and clothing dilemmas and of being too slow in responding to chillier evenings and mornings. Colds. And thanks very much, autumn, my sore throat is now coming along nicely.
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
Autumn can't be ignored though. Its evidence is all around and in particular in the way that its weather wraps around you. Its heat is discomforting and disorientating, a vaporous clamminess like a giant pink-paraffin heater. It rises from the dampness of the heavy dews, clings to the early-morning mists hanging over the wetlands and is suspended and static unless winds chase it away. This oily radiator warmth mixes with the watery atmosphere and gives birth to seasonal nuisances - the mosquitoes and the flies; always the flies, the scourge of autumn, only seconds away from invading your legs, hands, ears or nose, the moment you settle down on a terrace.
The heat is still sufficient for the beach, yet this is where the disorientation lies, along with a guilt factor. Should one really be going to the beach now that it is October? Isn't the beach something for July and August? How does one cope with autumn's heat as it doesn't feel quite right to cope with it in the same way as in summer?
The tourists don't struggle with this quandary. They carry on with bare flesh intent regardless, beach bound and unaware of a Mallorcan tradition that once the temperature dips below thirty it is time to get the cardy out of the wardrobe (where it will have been going musty over summer and so needs several washes and applications of apple-fragrance conditioner to restore it to wearing order). Otherwise, the most noticeable change in tourist behaviour and demeanour is the proliferation of ageing knobbly knees and backpacks, along with the incessant sound of Nordic Walking poles clunking against tarmac.
The October should-you-go-to-the-beach, shouldn't-you-go-to-the-beach dilemma is going to be resolved over the next few years. Well, it may take more than a few, but some time in the future the Mallorcan summer will encroach into winter. Hotels will not need to close at the end of October, flights will continue long into November, bars will stay open and no one will know how to cope with employment contracts that never normally extend beyond 31 October (if the employee is lucky).
Climate change is going to change the Mallorcan late season, so much so that the number of days that it will be possible, without any sense of disorientation or guilt, for one to be able to enjoy the beach and the sun in autumn will have doubled from around 30 at present to at least 60. I hadn't been aware that an official number of days that one can enjoy sun and beach in autumn had ever been calculated, but thanks to the meteorology department at the Universitat de les Illes Balears, I now do. And it is this department which says the autumn sun and beach days are set to increase by 100%. There won't be an autumn at all, it would seem.
If this is the case, the sooner a doubling occurs the better. If the Mallorcan summer also does a backwards encroachment into a Mallorcan winter, i.e. into March and April, as well as its forwards one at the end of the season, then there will be eight or nine months of season. Brilliant.
Unfortunately, we can't just immediately forget about having to arrange winter in Mallorca programmes and having to complain about lack of flights and lack of hotels being open. The meteorology people say it will be 2094 before 30 days become 60 days.
So, for the time being, we are left with what we have. Hotels starting to close, restaurants starting to close, newspaper and whitewash being gathered to cover windows and terrace glass doors, seasonal employees waving their goodbyes and bidding tearful farewells, the summer's workforce putting their documents together and trooping off to the dole office in the probably forlorn pursuit of some benefit, the piling up of wood, the worry that benign autumn weather will suddenly go pear-shaped and rip roofs off, and the dilemmas - beach or not, duvet or not, long trousers or not.
Autumn is a strange season and a strange time, but one of its least strange aspects is the consequence of the weather, bedding, and clothing dilemmas and of being too slow in responding to chillier evenings and mornings. Colds. And thanks very much, autumn, my sore throat is now coming along nicely.
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Summer Is Over
"I'm off to gather mushrooms." Those wacky French, always truffling around in the undergrowth snouting out fungus. It had never occurred to me that anyone, let alone a French visitor, might trek up to La Victoria and usher away the mountain goats before they could snaffle all the fungal booty. But it's that time of the year. Into the forests they go in search of firewood - not, I guess, that they're meant to - and the they is anyone with a wood-burner. Unused for several months, the burner is now being relieved of old ash and being re-commissioned once more.
The dew hangs thick on the grass that leaps up in a matter of a few days. It is this, the dew, as much as the torrents of September, that brings lawns back to life and to enjoy a spell of rapid re-growth before the sun loses more of its power and the gardens retreat into the winter time. Snails slime out from beneath stones, while the dying cicadas, in their shrouds of browny-grey, slam against walls in their last moments of disorientation before coming to rest and to await the ants. Flies crawl on terrace furniture and erratically buzz into faces; persistent, they land on arms or lobes, seek out spots to rub their legs in kitchens and bathrooms. The spray should kill them as well the autumn-returned mosquitoes, but rarely seems to.
The days shift from clear skies to grey, from calm to wind and from temperateness to chill. The beaches, where in summer the kiters and surfers are barred, now are littered with the colours of sails, boards with graffito go-faster, heavy-metallic blazes, and obsessive, freaky-haired surfies squeezed into wet suits. The wind from the sea is starting to cut. Hands reveal a purpleness unseen since early in the year, and jackets are zipped up to the neck, heads poking out from upraised collars that are caught on gusts and smack against an ear.
The "butaneros" are newly busy. Orange bottles, hidden in utility rooms, are lugged onto the streets to await the parping of the gas truck. Heaters are wheeled out and re-acquainted with the containers that vaporise their spectral, watery toxicity. In the supermarkets, the shelves change their contents, the greengrocery becomes greener as the likes of broccoli come back into fashion as the complement to legume-based stews. Refreshing summer whites begin to disappear as heavy reds regain their dominance in the wine sections.
From wardrobes and drawers come sweaters and sweatshirts, destined for the wash to fragrant-conditioner away the mustiness accumulated in the dead air of summer. Heavier clothing may be needed, but there are still tourists spirited enough to be shirtless and to take the iciness of a beer where a tea is demanded. The glass facades of some hotels are already whitewashed as end-of-summer shutdown signals the sad end of another season.
Winter's coming, and the tramuntana north wind blows south, forcing sand back against the wooden barriers and the flaking paint of shore-side villa walls. The sea rebels against the turquoise of summer. Turbulent, tossed by the tramuntana, it shrieks a green-seaweed greyness - an army colour, that of a tank - splashing up its detritus onto the water's edge, building castles of kiwi-moulded sea grass on the sand. The anger of the bay roars through the night, remonstrating with a forlorn and desperate desire to eke out just a few more hours and days of the season.
Summer's over.
QUIZ
Yesterday's title - "High", Lighthouse Family (Lightweight Family was how Steve Wright cruelly dubbed them), http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=59LnsrWkyFM. Today's title - one of her lesser-known songs, but it's terrific and so was she. Think another season.
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
The dew hangs thick on the grass that leaps up in a matter of a few days. It is this, the dew, as much as the torrents of September, that brings lawns back to life and to enjoy a spell of rapid re-growth before the sun loses more of its power and the gardens retreat into the winter time. Snails slime out from beneath stones, while the dying cicadas, in their shrouds of browny-grey, slam against walls in their last moments of disorientation before coming to rest and to await the ants. Flies crawl on terrace furniture and erratically buzz into faces; persistent, they land on arms or lobes, seek out spots to rub their legs in kitchens and bathrooms. The spray should kill them as well the autumn-returned mosquitoes, but rarely seems to.
The days shift from clear skies to grey, from calm to wind and from temperateness to chill. The beaches, where in summer the kiters and surfers are barred, now are littered with the colours of sails, boards with graffito go-faster, heavy-metallic blazes, and obsessive, freaky-haired surfies squeezed into wet suits. The wind from the sea is starting to cut. Hands reveal a purpleness unseen since early in the year, and jackets are zipped up to the neck, heads poking out from upraised collars that are caught on gusts and smack against an ear.
The "butaneros" are newly busy. Orange bottles, hidden in utility rooms, are lugged onto the streets to await the parping of the gas truck. Heaters are wheeled out and re-acquainted with the containers that vaporise their spectral, watery toxicity. In the supermarkets, the shelves change their contents, the greengrocery becomes greener as the likes of broccoli come back into fashion as the complement to legume-based stews. Refreshing summer whites begin to disappear as heavy reds regain their dominance in the wine sections.
From wardrobes and drawers come sweaters and sweatshirts, destined for the wash to fragrant-conditioner away the mustiness accumulated in the dead air of summer. Heavier clothing may be needed, but there are still tourists spirited enough to be shirtless and to take the iciness of a beer where a tea is demanded. The glass facades of some hotels are already whitewashed as end-of-summer shutdown signals the sad end of another season.
Winter's coming, and the tramuntana north wind blows south, forcing sand back against the wooden barriers and the flaking paint of shore-side villa walls. The sea rebels against the turquoise of summer. Turbulent, tossed by the tramuntana, it shrieks a green-seaweed greyness - an army colour, that of a tank - splashing up its detritus onto the water's edge, building castles of kiwi-moulded sea grass on the sand. The anger of the bay roars through the night, remonstrating with a forlorn and desperate desire to eke out just a few more hours and days of the season.
Summer's over.
QUIZ
Yesterday's title - "High", Lighthouse Family (Lightweight Family was how Steve Wright cruelly dubbed them), http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=59LnsrWkyFM. Today's title - one of her lesser-known songs, but it's terrific and so was she. Think another season.
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
Thursday, September 25, 2008
The Sun Ain't Shining No More
When the Mallorcan weather decides that it's going to pack up for the season, it doesn't hold back. Misery in autumn weather is not exactly an unknown here, but to hear or read what some have to say, you might believe that all it amounts to is a short sharp storm and then it's back to glorious sun. Sometimes that's so, but there is much selective memory at play and a great deal of ignorance. Almost inevitably, if one ever studies a forum and its regular September-October weather enquiries, there will be the eternal optimist who will swear blind that the worst that can happen is the sudden storm-then-sun scenario. It is not always like that. Like at the moment. The change has been profound. From not needing a sheet on the bed to dragging out the duvet, to even contemplating some heating, to wearing socks and sensible shoes; autumn is here. And as autumn starts, so there is another inevitability. What the hell's going to happen during the winter? And most obviously to tourism.
I can predict, with a degree of certainty, that over the next few weeks, there will be editorials devoted to the sorry state of winter tourism and to the fact that something needs to be done. There will also be reports that quote some usually anonymous bar owner or other who will say that winter used to be a period of wine and roses, and that something needs to be done. More selective memory, and ever more something needs to be done. Winter never was that good, and no one ever comes up with a prescription. It's the easiest and laziest form of media copy-filling to state what's wrong, but not offer any suggestions. So certain am I of these editorials and reports that I could write them now right here and wait to see when they appear. But I won't, for fear of boring you with repetition. I'll leave that to others.
The Exceltur organisation which is a national body devoted to tourism "excellence" says that there's talk of a "winter in Spain" promotion. I seem to remember there have been previous winter promotion ideas. The talking starts as the main season comes to an end. It is far too late. Again. How can a body claiming excellence put its name to a promotion that should have been discussed, finalised and initiated by now? While such national bodies and those for Mallorca doubtless have a role to play, they seem incapable of taking a longer-term perspective, such as planning a good year or so in advance.
Local town halls, such as Alcúdia, are trying to persuade more hotels to stay open. There may even be grants available to do so. Some hotels are not averse to the idea. But there is little or no point in deciding to do so now; it should have been agreed months ago. There is also little point in staying open if no one is going to come.
The easy option is to shrug the shoulders and say that there is nothing that can be done. It's not really an option any longer. As the main season seems to get shorter and the economy takes more of a hit, it is even less of an option. There is a fallacy about places such as Alcúdia and Pollensa that they are dead in winter. Some parts are, like The Mile, but the towns and the ports are not. Quiet, but not dead. As important is the fact that the island is not dead. There are many attractions that remain open all year, to say nothing of, into November, the local fairs and then Christmas/New Year and the fiestas of January. Perhaps it should fall to the towns or regions to bring about a meeting of minds that can establish programmes that make Alcúdia or Pollensa more attractive in winter. And programmes would be the key. Take, for instance, those fiestas in January. Those of Sant Antoni and Sant Sebastia make for an ideal focal point. A week's programme combining these, a day in Palma, a trip to La Reserva or the caves, the Soller train, a special dinner-dance, a couple of evenings with local entertainers, an evening of sangria and barbecue at Rancho Grande - might be chilly but then wrap up and do a bit of dancing. Even without the fiestas, there is enough for a good week's programme.
It would require any number of different parties agreeing; it would require good promotion, preferably through an integrated promotion that embraces other local initiatives all channelled through the Mallorca tourist authorities; it would require selling to the tour operators and to the airlines. But something of an, if you like, bottom-up approach by the towns might be more effective than general and often ill-thought-out top-down promotions. It wouldn't be a lot; of course it wouldn't be. But it could enable a few more hotels to sense an opportunity and to perhaps bring more to those bars, restaurants and shops that do operate all year. And maybe it would create a momentum, one that could result in Mallorca being blessed by one or two serious attractions that it currently lacks, for it is only through these - and not the trifling stuff of a bit of golf, a bit of shopping and a bit of culture - that the island could compete in winter. It has to start somewhere.
Incidentally, while I'm on the subject ... remember that so-called initiative involving the British Consul? Can anyone tell me what happened to that? No, I don't suppose you can.
ALCUDIA - SANCTIONS AGAINST STREET SELLERS
I shall be doing more on this tomorrow probably, but news is coming through regarding sanctions to be put into place by Alcúdia town hall against a variety of street carryings-on, including illegal selling, prostitution and the "botellón" (the street drinking party). These sanctions, fines of varying amounts, can apply not only to sellers but also to those buying from them. As I say, more, quite a bit more of this to come.
QUIZ
Yesterday's title - The Beatles (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=COMsKPeWAsw). Today's title - Danish; one of the songs of the year. Similar title to The Walker Brothers of some days back, but very different.
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
I can predict, with a degree of certainty, that over the next few weeks, there will be editorials devoted to the sorry state of winter tourism and to the fact that something needs to be done. There will also be reports that quote some usually anonymous bar owner or other who will say that winter used to be a period of wine and roses, and that something needs to be done. More selective memory, and ever more something needs to be done. Winter never was that good, and no one ever comes up with a prescription. It's the easiest and laziest form of media copy-filling to state what's wrong, but not offer any suggestions. So certain am I of these editorials and reports that I could write them now right here and wait to see when they appear. But I won't, for fear of boring you with repetition. I'll leave that to others.
The Exceltur organisation which is a national body devoted to tourism "excellence" says that there's talk of a "winter in Spain" promotion. I seem to remember there have been previous winter promotion ideas. The talking starts as the main season comes to an end. It is far too late. Again. How can a body claiming excellence put its name to a promotion that should have been discussed, finalised and initiated by now? While such national bodies and those for Mallorca doubtless have a role to play, they seem incapable of taking a longer-term perspective, such as planning a good year or so in advance.
Local town halls, such as Alcúdia, are trying to persuade more hotels to stay open. There may even be grants available to do so. Some hotels are not averse to the idea. But there is little or no point in deciding to do so now; it should have been agreed months ago. There is also little point in staying open if no one is going to come.
The easy option is to shrug the shoulders and say that there is nothing that can be done. It's not really an option any longer. As the main season seems to get shorter and the economy takes more of a hit, it is even less of an option. There is a fallacy about places such as Alcúdia and Pollensa that they are dead in winter. Some parts are, like The Mile, but the towns and the ports are not. Quiet, but not dead. As important is the fact that the island is not dead. There are many attractions that remain open all year, to say nothing of, into November, the local fairs and then Christmas/New Year and the fiestas of January. Perhaps it should fall to the towns or regions to bring about a meeting of minds that can establish programmes that make Alcúdia or Pollensa more attractive in winter. And programmes would be the key. Take, for instance, those fiestas in January. Those of Sant Antoni and Sant Sebastia make for an ideal focal point. A week's programme combining these, a day in Palma, a trip to La Reserva or the caves, the Soller train, a special dinner-dance, a couple of evenings with local entertainers, an evening of sangria and barbecue at Rancho Grande - might be chilly but then wrap up and do a bit of dancing. Even without the fiestas, there is enough for a good week's programme.
It would require any number of different parties agreeing; it would require good promotion, preferably through an integrated promotion that embraces other local initiatives all channelled through the Mallorca tourist authorities; it would require selling to the tour operators and to the airlines. But something of an, if you like, bottom-up approach by the towns might be more effective than general and often ill-thought-out top-down promotions. It wouldn't be a lot; of course it wouldn't be. But it could enable a few more hotels to sense an opportunity and to perhaps bring more to those bars, restaurants and shops that do operate all year. And maybe it would create a momentum, one that could result in Mallorca being blessed by one or two serious attractions that it currently lacks, for it is only through these - and not the trifling stuff of a bit of golf, a bit of shopping and a bit of culture - that the island could compete in winter. It has to start somewhere.
Incidentally, while I'm on the subject ... remember that so-called initiative involving the British Consul? Can anyone tell me what happened to that? No, I don't suppose you can.
ALCUDIA - SANCTIONS AGAINST STREET SELLERS
I shall be doing more on this tomorrow probably, but news is coming through regarding sanctions to be put into place by Alcúdia town hall against a variety of street carryings-on, including illegal selling, prostitution and the "botellón" (the street drinking party). These sanctions, fines of varying amounts, can apply not only to sellers but also to those buying from them. As I say, more, quite a bit more of this to come.
QUIZ
Yesterday's title - The Beatles (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=COMsKPeWAsw). Today's title - Danish; one of the songs of the year. Similar title to The Walker Brothers of some days back, but very different.
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
Saturday, September 22, 2007
So When You Hear This Autumn Song
And so autumn - otoño, tardor. Autumn has less significance than it does in, say, Britain; it is less a state of mind here and less an immediately natural shift. In the same way, primavera (spring) impacts less on the local mindset. Whilst calendars may dictate the start of the seasons, their physical manifestations are far less clear, compared to Britain (or at least to seasons in Britain as we knew them). Some blossoms emerge in January here; the fall, such as it is, is later and far less apparent given the fact that evergreens boss the tree world. And now, the grass grows prodigiously, replenishing itself after the weeks of baking sun. Only harvests tend to compare.
Autumn, for most people, does not really exist. Summer, in the sense of the tourist season, lasts till the end of October, whereupon it is winter until the end of April. The summer can, and often does, stretch to the end of October. Last year it did. It was still 27 degrees at the end of the month. So the heat does not necessarily get turned down, but right at the moment, the sun is largely obscured by cloud. Warm, it is not really summer. So maybe it is autumn. For the tourist, still hankering after a tan, a pool and a beach, this is twilight summer. Neither one thing nor the other. Caught between. The microcosmic tourist state of Playa de Muro reflects the tourist dilemma, confronted by this seasonal dusk. With ample sun, it seems quiet. Turn the sun down, or obscure it with cloud, it seems busy. People walk up and down the side road parallel to the carretera in search of ...? Very little in all truth. It is the often unanswerable question for somewhere conceived with one thing in mind - sun, and hot sun at that.
Perhaps some will find an answer in the fascination of Albufera, but for most the answer is sought in a bar perhaps, football perhaps, turning round and going back perhaps, then going out on the same walk again perhaps. Endlessly, people look for something. You can tell also that twilight summer is here by the fact that the “Muro Express”, the land-going train, is full on its first runs after the siesta. In real summer, daylight summer if you like, it is empty. More looking for something.
This dilemma is to be found replicated elsewhere, though here it seems more acute, given the remoteness of Alcúdia Pins. It makes one realise, again, that for all the fine thoughts that may underpin future tourism plans, such as Plan Turismo 2020, there is one thing above all that determines satisfaction - the one thing governments and their conferences cannot control.
QUIZ
Last time - Blackbird. Today’s title?
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
Autumn, for most people, does not really exist. Summer, in the sense of the tourist season, lasts till the end of October, whereupon it is winter until the end of April. The summer can, and often does, stretch to the end of October. Last year it did. It was still 27 degrees at the end of the month. So the heat does not necessarily get turned down, but right at the moment, the sun is largely obscured by cloud. Warm, it is not really summer. So maybe it is autumn. For the tourist, still hankering after a tan, a pool and a beach, this is twilight summer. Neither one thing nor the other. Caught between. The microcosmic tourist state of Playa de Muro reflects the tourist dilemma, confronted by this seasonal dusk. With ample sun, it seems quiet. Turn the sun down, or obscure it with cloud, it seems busy. People walk up and down the side road parallel to the carretera in search of ...? Very little in all truth. It is the often unanswerable question for somewhere conceived with one thing in mind - sun, and hot sun at that.
Perhaps some will find an answer in the fascination of Albufera, but for most the answer is sought in a bar perhaps, football perhaps, turning round and going back perhaps, then going out on the same walk again perhaps. Endlessly, people look for something. You can tell also that twilight summer is here by the fact that the “Muro Express”, the land-going train, is full on its first runs after the siesta. In real summer, daylight summer if you like, it is empty. More looking for something.
This dilemma is to be found replicated elsewhere, though here it seems more acute, given the remoteness of Alcúdia Pins. It makes one realise, again, that for all the fine thoughts that may underpin future tourism plans, such as Plan Turismo 2020, there is one thing above all that determines satisfaction - the one thing governments and their conferences cannot control.
QUIZ
Last time - Blackbird. Today’s title?
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
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