I'm A Believer (Or Not)

"You just don't know who to believe." Thus spake the editor of "The Bulletin" the other day. He was referring to the conflicting information regarding how well, or not, the season is going.

There are many here who suspect the dark art of the propagandist's pen when it comes to the season good news stories. Few can quite believe the spin. Yet for every woe-is-me bar or restaurant owner, there is always another who has a skip in his stride and a smile of contentment. Sometimes it can be for show; we know that. But sometimes it is obviously genuine. Take somewhere like La Recoleta in Puerto Alcúdia, a restaurant in a highly competitive and concentrated zone in the port. Here is someone, Gustavo, who has the demeanour and the bright eyes of someone genuinely "muy contento" with the season.

It is hard though to know who to believe. We have been told that this season, in terms of numbers at any rate, would be as good as 2007, a record year, lest we forget. On the other hand, there was the news the other day from the hoteliers who were talking about anything up to a 15% slump in profits. It is just this apparent contradiction that The Bulletin's editor rightly alludes to. But then you come across something that supports what the hoteliers are saying and also heavily questions the numbers good news. This is just one example, but perhaps it is a telling one. In Puerto Alcúdia, there is a hotel that apparently for the day of 25 July, i.e. in high season, has a forecast occupation of 67%. Two-thirds. If this is correct, it is going to require a whole load of last-minutes and probably tour operator discounts to elevate that figure to anything like respectability. An occupancy rate in the mid-60s percentage bracket is more like a good performance in May, not July, and there was a report yesterday which said that the Balearics had an average May occupancy level of 61%.

Of course one example proves very little, but it is nevertheless an indication; an indication in particular of the impact of bad economic times and bad exchange rates for the British tourist. It is falling to the German and Scandinavian tourist to take up the slack, but even that can go only so far. The Bulletin's editor goes on to the refer to the call for greater promotion of Mallorca by the government, something I also mentioned recently. He sees a particular need for this in respect of the British market. Perhaps he is right, but when hit by the sort of economic circumstances that they have been, no amount of promotion is necessarily going to convince a wavering Brit tourist of the efficacy of coming to Mallorca. That said, there may well be sense in launching a strong campaign as I don't think I am alone in believing that not this year but next year is potentially going to be the real annus miserabilis. And no amount of propaganda is likely to convince otherwise.


And so of course to Euro 2008. Sore-head morning today, one fancies. The car horns did duly blare out long into the night. 44 years of failure and then a goal from Torres. The post-match shindigs were a wonder to behold. The chap who does the interviews for the Cuatro channel, the one who spoke to the King the other day, was soaked in champagne by a bunch of Spanish players running around in their underwear like kids splashing through a fountain on a hot day. Somehow, one couldn't quite imagine Ray Stubbs being similarly doused. But even among the excitement of the closing moments, the final whistle coming nearer to end those 44 years, on Spanish radio (and I have 6-0-6 to thank for this) the commentator said that there were two minutes to go, time enough to eat a doughnut. Now I think my chances of being a commentator on a Euro final are greater than England's chances of ever making it to a final, but were these two unlikelihoods to ever happily collide, I fancy that the eating of a doughnut would not be the first thing that enters my head in the dying moments before victory.


QUIZ
Chain - Godley and Creme did the video for "Rockit". And so ... Yesterday's title - Prince, "1999". Today's title - easy stuff so long as you ignore the brackets.

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Index for June 2008

Air Berlin - 14 June 2008, 18 June 2008, 20 June 2008
Balearic economy - 19 June 2008, 23 June 2008, 25 June 2008
Balearic Government - 14 June 2008, 18 June 2008, 20 June 2008, 23 June 2008, 25 June 2008, 29 June 2008, 30 June 2008
Bars - 2 June 2008
Beaches - 13 June 2008
Cala San Vicente - 7 June 2008
Can Picafort - 11 June 2008
Cedilla - 1 June 2008
Cleanliness - 2 June 2008, 3 June 2008
Construction industry - 25 June 2008
Continental Park Hotel - 21 June 2008
Cost of living - 22 June 2008
Education - 14 June 2008
Energy costs - 10 June 2008
Eroski - 9 June 2008, 10 June 2008
Euro 2008 - 6 June 2008, 7 June 2008, 17 June 2008, 23 June 2008, 27 June 2008, 29 June 2008, 30 June 2008
Fiestas - 13 June 2008, 26 June 2008
Flu - 18 June 2008
Football - 6 June 2008, 7 June 2008, 17 June 2008, 23 June 2008, 27 June 2008, 29 June 2008, 30 June 2008
Germans - 4 June 2008
Holiday clubs - 12 June 2008
Hotels - 16 June 2008, 21 June 2008, 27 June 2008, 30 June 2008
Internet - 13 June 2008, 21 June 2008
JKs Bar - 2 June 2008
La Victoria - 26 June 2008
La Villa Chinese restaurant - 24 June 2008
Language - 14 June 2008, 18 June 2008, 20 June 2008
Logos - 1 June 2008, 3 June 2008, 18 June 2008
Lorry drivers' strike - 10 June 2008, 12 June 2008
Maps - 5 June 2008
Marketing - 8 June 2008
Muro - 8 June 2008
Nadal, Rafael - 29 June 2008
Nautical tourism - 15 June 2008
Playa de Muro - 8 June 2008, 21 June 2008
Polish tourists - 7 June 2008
Pollensa - 1 June 2008, 3 June 2008
Port terminal - 15 June 2008
Prices - 24 June 2008
Railways - 26 June 2008, 28 June 2008
Restaurants - 24 June 2008
Road accidents - 1 June 2008
Roads - 28 June 2008
Sant Pere 2008 - 13 June 2008
Scandinavian tourists - 16 June 2008
Scratch cards - 12 June 2008
Spanish economy - 19 June 2008
Spanish television - 17 June 2008, 23 June 2008, 30 June 2008
Strikes - 10 June 2008, 12 June 2008, 28 June 2008
Sunwing Resort - 16 June 2008
Supermarkets - 9 June 2008, 10 June 2008, 12 June 2008
Tennis - 29 June 2008
Thomson - 21 June 2008
Tour operators - 21 June 2008
Tourism quality - 18 June 2008
Tourism spend - 27 June 2008
Tourism statistics - 30 June 2008
Tourism strategy - 3 June 2008
Tourists - 5 June 2008, 7 June 2008, 16 June 2008
Trains - 26 June 2008, 28 June 2008
Trams - 26 June 2008, 27 June 2008
Trikes - 18 June 2008
Weather - 9 June 2008, 11 June 2008, 21 June 2008, 23 June 2008
WiFi - 13 June 2008

Tonight I'm Gonna Party Like It's ...

Two thousand zero, zero party over out of time, but overdue - a Spanish win in tonight's Euro 2008 final. 44 years of hurt since their only win in a competition - the Euros of 1964 when the finals were in Spain and the Generalissimo, who had refused to let the team play in the inaugural competition four years earlier because of Soviet involvement, allowed the boys in red and yellow to play and beat the reds in the final. They don't make football tournaments like they did then - Luxembourg were in the quarter finals and Greece pulled out as they were still at war with Albania against whom they were drawn. And of course tonight's party is also Saint Peter's big night out in Puerto Alcúdia. Football and religion - it must say something about local culture, though I'm not sure what, other than football and religion.


Switching sports to tennis and to double back-handing, cut-off shirt and bicep-popping Manacor sex God and Wunderkind, Rafael Nadal. No, this is not a Wimbledon moment; one international sports event is quite enough even for this most eclectic of blogs. The Nadal story is rather closer to home, in fact more or less on Rafa's doorstep in Manacor where a tennis centre, that the government was supposed to have been building, has been left a couple of tram lines short of the full court (a remarkably symbiotic metaphor to link to the recent tram story, I am sure you will all agree). The Balearic Government, and bear in mind that the other day it was agreed to hand over some 1000 million folding notes from the governmental piggy-bank to apply some economic RSJ to the construction industry, finds itself somewhat financially embarrassed when it comes to the Manacor centre. So, hang on, let's get this right. The government, which is able to put its hands on a whole wedge of moolah for the building trade, is not able to divert a fraction of this to ... a building project. Hmm.

So what's another tennis centre that doesn't get built, you might be thinking. And you might be right if this were just a story of not facilitating some nouveaux Nadals and their forehand cross-court volleys with top spin. The point about the tennis centre was that the Manacor Muscle had entered into an agreement with the old government administration whereby, in return for the odd tennis court, he would do some PR for Mallorca. Sounds like a fair deal really, especially as, unlike the other "faces" of Mallorca or the Balearics who get dragged into the spotlight and then swiftly disappear, Nadal happens to actually be not only Mallorcan but the most famous Mallorcan in the world. What could be better? The government's tourism politburo, IBATUR, could do a bit more of their wonderfully strange advertising. "Mallorca, much more than tennis", in keeping with the other it has come up with. Except of course it would now have to be "much less than tennis" as Nadal has taken his racket and balls home with him and told the government where they can stick the PR. No tennis centre, no Rafa beaming out from posters at the next international tourism gig.

If the government can ever be said to be sure-footed, there seems little doubt that it has foot-faulted on this. For all the Paco de Lucias and Anna Kournikovas (whatever happened to her role as a "face" by the way?), none has been Mallorcan. Along comes someone as famous as Nadal, and the government says, "sorry, mate, but we've run out of cash for your tennis centre". Maybe they should ask Nadal if he can lend them a bob or two. Still, if Real Mallorca's Dani Guiza scores the goal that wins Euro 2008, then the government can find themselves a new face for Mallorca. But what would they offer in return? Buy the football club. Of course. Brilliant, as it happens to also be owned by the bloke behind the Drac Group whose financial woes have helped to put the local construction industry into penury. Two thousand million zero, zeros.


QUIZ
Chain - The pianist was Herbie Hancock. And what is his big-hit link to Godley and Creme? Yesterday's title - The Motors, "Airport" and see this here, replete with intro by Jimmy Savile, now then, now then (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=baLilwDcjko). Today's title - easy, easy.

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A Streetcar Named ...

Picking up from yesterday's piece, a comment came in about the tram and the possibility of it going to Puerto Pollensa. I had actually heard some tell of precisely that, though the latest reports suggest otherwise. The enviro-fashionistas would rather like to close the road that runs by the coastline, and let nature reclaim the land, so I don't know if a tram would accord with such a desire; not that I can ever see it happening, but were there ever to be thought of a tram link to Puerto Pollensa, that would surely affect the thinking as to the siting of the train terminal. Or maybe it wouldn't; joined-up transport thought patterns are not necessarily the order of the day here. But were joined-up transport links to be held to be a "good thing", then what of the new terminal in the port for all those cruise ships that are due to be arriving some day, whenever? Maybe they should put the tram along the Calle Teodoro Canet, round the back of the Paseo Marítimo. This would be hugely entertaining. Space may be limited for a tram along the carretera, but along that particular road it would bring everything to a grinding halt. Bring it on.


Meanwhile, the hoteliers of Mallorca are starting to feel the heat of recession, predicting that profits will be down some 15% this season. Though numbers are likely to be in line with last year, it's that tourist spend that is exercising the minds of the hotel trade. I have said it before, in a different context, so one does get a sense of déjà vu, but when they made their optimistic forecasts and announcements coming into the season, there was a feeling of wishful thinking or even delusion. The hard-hit Spanish consumer and his British counterpart was bound to cause a slide in spend. The noises as the season got under way were the sound of whistling to keep up the spirits, when common sense suggested that, despite the numbers of tourists, the actual spend was inevitably going to go down. Anyway, the hoteliers have had a chat with Balearic boss, Francesc Antich. Not that they have asked him to bail them out, unlike the builders, but they are pressing the government to up its promotional spend for next year. And perhaps next year is what should be really worrying everyone, especially if the euro-pound situation continues.


Euro 2008 watch: So Spain duly made it past the suddenly hyped-up and then equally suddenly useless Russians, and they didn't need the benefit of a cut in transmission to alter the result. A conspiracy theory raised on 6-0-6 was that UEFA couldn't bear the idea of Turkey, like Greece in 2004, progressing and actually winning the damn thing, so that so-called lightning strike was in fact a cover to disguise the real result - Turkey in fact won 5-2. Anyway, Spain it is, and with remarkably good or bad timing the final clashes with the climax of the San Pere fiesta in Alcúdia. One fancies that the old image of Peter may take a bit of a back-seat, quite literally perhaps, propped up in a wheelbarrow outside a bar while the locals turn their attention to the TVs. And if Spain win on Sunday? Mayhem. Last night's victory was met with much sounding of car horns hurtling past the house. And for your average Brit expat, a real dilemma. I am, I think, unique in actually wanting Spain to win. But as the opposition will be ... the Germans ... which side can your expat want to win less? Tricky.


QUIZ
Chain - Forgot yesterday. The Players Association featured one of jazz's finest saxophonists who formed part of what "brothers" outfit? Yesterday's title - "The Runaway Train", Michael Holliday, and here is a link to someone who goes by the moniker "Dimple Diamond" introducing and then doing that song. It's fair to say, I think, that Matt Lucas could well have dreamt him up. Anyway his youtube has had barely 300 visits, most of them mine, so I implore you all to look at this and elevate him to greatness (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=84DmeutIAr4). Today's title - ok, so fill in the missing word by reference to which mega group?

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Too Shy, Shy

And so, after all the rubbish weather comes the hot stuff. We were told to expect it, and with due predictability, on the back of what was more like March weather, the lows have turned to very highs, with some forecasts talking of temperatures up to 35 or 37 degrees (99 in old money). One of the surprising aspects of this, surprising as Mallorca is hardly immune to hot weather, is that the authorities feel the need to give out a warning and advice, but I guess the message can never be made too often.


Excitement mounts as Spain move on to the semis of Euro 2008. Thank God they beat Italy. Otherwise, amid all the attacking football, there might have been the prospect of the Italians boring their way to the championship. Spanish TV went overboard, extending its programme in order to accommodate even more pockets of advertising. Heaven knows what will happen if they actually win the thing - a feast of advertising opportunity till three in the morning beckons. It was a truly rotten game, but the victory offered the chance to see how truly rotten TV here can be. Shambolic hardly does justice to the post-match presentation of the Cuatro channel ("podemos", we can; no you cannot). You couldn't tell what was advert and what was frantic, hastily-cobbled-together reaction. There was even some bizarre thing which involved speaking to a group of about ten supporters in front of a huge banner that read "Kia Fest"; motor cars are the stuff of Euro championship advertising, especially Korean cars. The chap who was packed off to do the interviews in front of the multi-sponsored board was like the cat who'd got the cream when he managed a few words with the King after he had emerged from the team's changing room. "I spoke to the King, I spoke to the King," was what he wanted to say. The King does at least turn up for these events. Think of him what you may, but there is no denying his support for Spanish sports teams. There was once, and it must have been the 2004 Olympics, the time when he and the Queen attended the medal ceremony for some minor sport - rowing perhaps. The medals duly divvied up, the King and the Queen then engaged in much kissing and hugging with the Spanish gold medallists; it was all rather touching, and you couldn't have imagined the British royal family acting in such a way.

The real star of the Spanish win though was not one of the players but someone I have had cause to have a go at here - namely the coach Luis Aragones. After Fabregas scored the winning penalty, what did Aragones do? Go into a David Pleat-like leaping fit? No, he picked up something from the bench, was embraced by someone and then walked off. Nothing more. Avram Grant had Mourinhoesque charisma compared with Aragones. In the lead up to the penalties, all he did was walk on to the pitch with a piece of paper to tell the players who were taking the pens and then went and sat down again. No motivational speeches, no imploring, just a sense of this is your job, now get on and do it. But it was the post-match press conference that really gave us an insight into Aragones. He was there with the eloquent captain, Iker Casillas. When Casillas left, you could see Aragones was thinking: "I'm on my own here". He scratched his neck and his ear and he mumbled into the mike. He was shy. He obviously hated it all. He has gone up in my estimation.


Meanwhile, away from the euphoria of the football, the lousy economic situation has prompted the Balearic Government into holding talks with various bodies, such as the unions and business groups. Whilst the economy is said, by the government, to be "robust", ways are being sought to combat the current problems, not least unemployment. And so what will they be proposing? More construction. Yep, even more construction. This may make sense as a short-term fix, but it fails to address the weakness of the Balearic economy, which is its reliance on construction (and tourism). And the recent record with siphoning off public money into the private sector for undertaking public works has not been uniformly successful, owing to the problems of indebtedness that some of these firms have.


QUIZ
Chain - Crowded House, "Four Seasons In One Day" to The Four Seasons and "Who Loves You". And what connects The Four Seasons to American pop act of the '60s, The McCoys? Yesterday's title - "World In Motion", New Order (see this here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4nQItOROYlc). Today's title - who? Had them here recently.

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Yes We Can

All in all, it is probably as well that England are not in Euro 2008. Ah, our plucky lads, the lumpenproletariat-cum-nouveau riche of galactico footballers, who lump the ball rather than caress and adore it. Against the passing of the Spanish, the verve of the Dutch, the technique of the Croats, humiliation would once again have beckoned. The bars may not be packed with England t-shirts, but those who've gone to watch are spared what was once described by French pundits (while watching the 1990 World Cup in the bars of southern France) as "primitif". Admittedly, 1990 got better than the game against Ireland which gave rise to this description (and the Irish were no less immune to the primitive criticism), but the years pass and the lack of basics that seem to come so naturally to nearly all other football nations survives. Way back in the '50s, they were bemoaning poor technique and control while Puskas and co. exposed the insularity and aloofness of the English game.

Flicking through channels in advance of one Euro 2008 game, I stumbled across another football tournament. The players had fine technique, ball control and all balls played to feet, pace, movement and passing. It was quite mesmerising. They were all of eleven or twelve years old, teams from Spain and Germany playing in a competition in Mallorca. Small they may have been and small also the pitch and goals may have been, but it was not hard to imagine that some might grow to be a Xavi, a Ballack or a Villa. It was like watching Arsenal play, which probably explains why Wenger eschews mostly anything born in Britain. In England, kids still play on full-sized pitches and are exhorted to "get it long" and run around like headless chickens. One of England's brighter talents (brighter in terms of footballing ability that is), the spud-faced Scouse nipper now playing for Man U, is a decapitated fowl and a foul waiting to happen. It occurs to me that you might want to nip along and see the semis and finals of the junior football tournament taking place during Sant Pere: they're on the 26th and 27th at 18:00 at the sports ground. It won't be like watching England play that'll be sure.

On TV, the Euro finals have been grabbed by the Cuatro channel for those who have no desire to fork out for the pleasure. Compared to the wackiness of La Sexta's coverage during the last World Cup, this is dull fare; no Three Tenors, the singing commentators of 2006, for a kick-off, and especially no short-arsed, balding one with a bow-tie who was, by far, the worst offender. Mind you, the threesome that Cuatro drags out look as though they may have recently come off stage having warbled for a cabaret audience. They each have uniforms of black jackets and white shirts with at least two buttons undone and no tie.

Not much time is devoted to analysis during the Cuatro transmissions, in fact virtually none. Nor are there the meaningless pitch-side interviews. "So tell me, Petr, why did you screw up so badly with that cross?" One suspects that they might have found some time for a bit more endless slow-mo of offside decisions if it were not for the need to get the ads all in, the ones the football tiresomely gets in the way of. And one of these is a Cuatro corporate thing that they repeat endlessly. It has a slogan; well, there's a surprise. It's one word. "Podemos". We can. If I were being cynical, I would ask: "we can what"? But I have already coined the We Can line for Can Picafort, admittedly in English. Better get down Santa Margalida town hall quick and get them to accept it and pay me handsomely, except they wouldn't as they haven't got any money.


QUIZ
Chain - REM did a cover of "I Will Survive". And which REM single has a link with Elvis impersonators? Yesterday's title - Mr. Mister, "Broken Wings" (see this here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aWyeVfuolT4). Today's title - which politician has this as a song?

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But I Could Have Told You, Vincent

Location-wise, Euro 2008 may have all the tweeness of a "Heidi" novel, the starchy haughtiness and death-by-cake of a Viennese coffee house or the Edelweiss-ing schlock of a Von Trapp family climbing every mountain to escape into Switzerland, but many a European tribe has wisely chosen to give a wide berth to being woken at five in the morning by an Ermintrude clangling her bell outside an Alpine chalet. They have eschewed the über-cleanliness, the cuckoo clock and the waltz in favour of savouring the moment of defeat or perhaps even victory in the altogether less refined surroundings of a Mallorcan bar.

A glance at the list of participating countries finds that a goodly dozen provide succour to the Mallorcan tourism industry. Only the Croats, the Greeks, the Turks and the Romanians fail to register on the tour operators' coach-transfer itineraries, though the Romanians have pitched up in the guise of hordes of itinerant workers or those banned from computer shops.

But amongst the various nations who will be represented in Mallorca during Euro 2008, special word should be reserved for the Poles who, though relative newcomers to the Premier League of the island's tourism, have begun a process of tourism-land annexation of which their neighbours (those of the G-country) would be proud. And moreover, they are colonising not discarded and unwanted parts in the vicinity of The Mile but the genteel place that time forgot, Cala San Vicente. Yes, the Cala is now officially part of Poland, and I know this thanks to my mole all things Cala St. Vince, Tomas from Marinas. Given that he has a bar opposite, I suppose he does have a bit of an angle on the whole deal, but, in the wake of the Don Pedro having been all-inclusivised for some years now and also stubbornly refusing to be demolished, the Simar, also arming the wrists of its clientele with the stigma of the wristband, has been taken over by Poles. Which is not to say that the Poles should not have taken it over, but is to say or rather ask - are they expected to drive their own buses and kit out their own bathrooms? Tempting though it might be to suggest that hotels provide them with flat-packs and some items of porcelain from the local B&Q equivalent and then set them to work, this would of course mean succumbing to stereotyping - as in all Poles drive buses or are plumbers. And that would never do.

Yet having arrived in Cala St. Vince, our Polish friends will not be frequenting that Mallorcan bar to watch and suffer further defeat at the feet of the Germans. They will not because they are all-inclusive. It matters not from where the tourist comes or not that that tourist has barely a euro, a pound or zloty to rub between them, as all-inclusive places no premium on a well-stocked wallet. And talking of feet, if Cala St. Vince had any, it might well be argued that the mini-resort that it is would be dying on them. Here is a place that should be ringfenced with all-exclusivity and not fencing off part of its hotel stock and clientele into all-inclusivity. One might be able to make an argument that justifies all-inclusives in a place as widespread and large (in relative terms) as Puerto Alcúdia, but in St. Vince it cannot make any sense; indeed I would suggest that it borders on the irresponsible. Which is in no way to deny the Polish their place in the Mallorcan sun; just that it would be nice, were there much sun at the moment, for them to be enjoying it by packing the local bars and eateries while supporting the national team.


QUIZ
Chain - King Crimson (Greg Lake), The Nice (Keith Emerson), therefore Emerson Lake and Palmer. And what other "super group (?)" came out of ELP? Yesterday's title - Half Man Half Biscuit (see this here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=na12OyJEgJ8). Today's title - who?

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In A Big Country Dreams Stay With You

With no British teams qualifying for Euro 2008, what option of support is there for the expat? Spain is the simple answer, but for the great majority I doubt that it would be an option. Why not? People live here; why not support its national team? It’s a bit of a variant on the Tebbit cricket test, and most would fail it. No matter what the degree of the expat’s assimilation into Mallorcan (Spanish) life, the home-country bond and sense of nationhood endure. This is no condemnatory forever-Englander or “we’re British” stereotyping; it is human nature, something that crosses national divides and is therefore common to those originally from other nations.

The degree to which expatriates throw off the baggage of “home” intrigues me. To an extent it can be determined by social circumstances, e.g. by marriage, but even then it is tempered. I have a friend who has lived in Spain for almost 30 years, has a daughter in Spain, speaks the language fluently and yet is still very much English, reads English newspapers, supports his old football team from England and wouldn’t dream of lending his support to a Spanish side.

One encounters a certain holier-than-thouness among expats when it comes to their assimilation; it is marked by factors such as assertions of numbers of Spanish acquaintances and as to the frequenting of non-British establishments. Yet some of these can barely speak the language after several years of residing here. And even when patronising a “local” bar for a coffee or a beer, there is still usually a British newspaper in front of them.

True assimilation only occurs with a full understanding of language and an embrace of a different culture. If it happens at all, it is rare. Learning the language is not easy for many, while for many working expats their lives often revolve around English-speaking environments: the British bar-owner has mainly English-speaking clientele; he has little time to attend lessons and then little time or opportunity to practise the language. What language that is learned is piecemeal, fragmented and without a grammatical framework or an appreciation of linguistic nuance. Without language there is no culture.

Convenience is another huge influence. It is convenience of communication and association. Mallorca is “convenient” as the expat is never far from another one. There is the convenience of the “printed-in-Spain” newspaper available every morning, the convenience of satellite and of British news, sport, soaps and reality TV in the living-room or bar, the convenience of the internet and of web radio, the convenience of conducting a common and shared experience with a peer group that is the stuff of social intercourse - be it a chat over a coffee or supporting the England football team.

This is no criticism. I go to British bars. I speak English probably the majority of the time. I read English papers on the internet. That I also read Spanish papers is part of what I do. I suspect, like many expats, I cherry-pick what I want to from local life and culture. I live in a different and big country but I still have dreams of England winning something. That said, I do want Spain to win Euro 2008 - if only because, like England, the national side is a bunch of serial losers and because it would be one heck of a party; sorry, make that fiesta.


QUIZ
Yesterday - Cream, “Politician”. Today’s title? Another Scottish outfit.

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Blue Hotel

There are times when I almost lose the will to live, and not just because of England’s football team, about which more below. One more time with feeling, my friends, one more time ... winter tourism (or rather the lack thereof), “Euro Weekly”, unnamed spokesperson, “some help from the politicians and big tour operators would be welcomed”. For God’s sake - what? Offer a solution not a constant reiteration of the problem. Why the heck should the tour operators help?

Today’s EW piece refers also to the statement from the Mallorcan Hotel Federation that there are 250 hotels open on the island over the winter. I don’t know how they get to this figure, but I suspect there is a clue in what the tour operators are offering in winter. Thomson for example, who will not be flying into Palma from mid-January to end-February, have their winter offers. Among these are the Puerto Azul hotel in Puerto Pollensa. You cannot book this hotel in say December, but you can in March; Easter is early in 2008, in March in fact. March is winter, all of it in tourist-season terms. That’s probably how they get to that 250 figure. So, I have sympathy for those challenging this statistic. I also have great sympathy for those who would like to keep their businesses going and being profitable over winter, but I do think a bit of reality needs to come in; no, make that a lot of reality.

There is, however, a potential move afoot which may impact positively on year-round tourism, namely the introduction of so-called condohotels, meaning - I assume - that people could own their own rooms or more likely apartments in certain hotels. Could be a good idea.


Anyway - football. One positive that can be drawn from the fact that none of the teams from the British Isles will be competing in Euro 2008 is that there will be no excuse for holidaymakers staying at home for the footy and not coming to Mallorca. There again, no England, no Scotland, no Ireland etc., no crammed bars for matches. Can’t have it both ways, I suppose.


QUIZ
Yesterday - Billy Fury was the one I was thinking of, but there were others. Bobby Vee or Bobby Vinton I think. Goffin and King song anyway. Today’s title - apart from naming the artist, what specifically in today’s piece is “blue”?

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