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by Gary Hardy

The Curse of August



In theory, the people here on the island during the height of our summer season should have the capacity to be more adaptable, but in reality both the locals and the holidaymakers suffer many a terrible faux pas throughout this crazy month of August.

This asylum can transform lives through last-minute "bog-standard" holiday bargains that are not always what they seem with faint details and when technical blemishes reveal themselves slowly, gracefully, in a kind of wounded glory.

We want the tourists, we love the tourists, we are an island with traditional hospitality. But we do not want the problems of alcoholism and misconduct subsequently caused through slamming too many tequila shots and then terrorizing innocent folk.

Drugs can be another problem but we also dislike the tyranny of rigid plans and the feeling of being part of a heard as we witnessed the incidents with gangs of holidaymakers being exported here to be herded around the wild streets of the notorious West End in San Antonio.

Our mission is to stop this atmosphere conducive to outlandish behavioural outburst from destroying the island's close-knit society and attempt to educate folk who visit the island that there is a paradise to be found here amongst the sanctums of the elite and privileged.

Ibiza is also about the natural splendour of the beautiful beaches, wide sandy shores between verdant, gentle hills and terraced olive groves. The winding cobblestone streets of the old Ibiza town and the sleepy, sunburnt hamlets built throughout the countryside and around whitewashed churches.

There are a collection of the island's glamorous pretenders who are a bit like the wind-up merchant type with outer sight know-how and perfect timing for the big-time price-earrings ratio that are suppose to give the island an ultra-professional feel.

For outright bizarreness, few places can hold a candle to Ibiza during this exhausting month of August. Ibiza this month is all about immaculate confusion, being blinded by the dazzling Mediterranean sun and choked by the dry, suffocating heat.

It is a kind of intensity heat that you would most probably also find in Africa and it never lets up throughout the whole month. This must be the only place in the world where the sun doesn't set. Instead, at around 9 o'clock every night, the sun explodes as it touches the horizon and falls into the sea.

Boundary: There's the real world… and there's Ibiza, but we are all glad that the curse of August is rapidly coming to an end.

Gary Hardy