Is it so far-fetched that the Pityuses might still harbour astonishing secrets from the distant past? What, for instance, about the libri Punici, ancient papyrus scrolls or volumina (from the Latin volvere - 'to roll') which were hastily smuggled out of Carthage around the time of its destruction in 146 BC. Could such treasure be awaiting a latter-day Howard Carter in a buried Dalt Vila cellar or the inmost recesses of a forgotten smugglers' cave in San Vicente? ('The Millstone' too is said to be riddled with unexplored cavities.) There is a passage in B.H. Warmington's Carthage (1960) which should strike a chord for all armchair archaeologists: "The Romans handed over to the Numidian kings the contents of the libraries of Carthage, which fell into their hands at the sack; it is to be presumed that there were many books, like that of Mago [an expert on agriculture], of immediate practical use in the backward territories." Pliny is the source here, and one is tempted to ask, What about the advanced territories like Ibiza, whose citizens could actually read? Mago's twenty-eight books were in fact translated into both Latin and Greek before vanishing completely from sight during the course of the Dark Ages. Plutarch too speaks of sacred parchments hidden underground before Carthage's destruction. If only they'd been engraved on stone or clay. In recent years the decipherment of tablets from the buried archives of Ebla (a landlocked city half way between the Euphrates and the Mediterranean) is greatly advancing our knowledge of the proto-Phoenician civilization known as Canaanite. Could Ibiza or Formentera hold the key to Carthage?

From lizards to man's best friend: the ca eivissenc, podenco ibicenco or Ibizan hound needs no introduction. Their svelte Egyptian looks and beguiling pointy ears are admired the length and breadth of the globe - they even have their very own kennel clubs in America and Sweden (see http://hem.passagen.se/komhund/E7_ibizan.htm). Voyage to the Island of Bes (1996) by Belgian architect-illustrator Valérie Gevers, takes the reader on an unusual odyssey into the island's rural heart. The tale starts when Petra, a girl holidaying in Cala Tarida is paddling offshore and sights a mysterious podenco atop a nearby headland. On regaining the shore, she has dressed and is gathering up her belongings when the mysterious hound suddenly bounds up and grabs her bright red bum-bag. She gives chase, but with no luck and after an exhausting climb collapses in the shade of a magnificent fig tree. In the subsequent extended dream (which occupies the rest of the book), the dog reappears and the chase is resumed. She stops to chat with an old payesa who tells her of a mysterious well in the centre of the island, whose interior is decorated with magical symbols. Soon after she receives a lift from a group of children in a cart on their way to a dance in front of the ancient well just mentioned. After dancing by the light of the full moon she is taken to rest in a nearby farmhouse and unrolls her little mattress on the upper porch beneath drying tomatoes and star-spangled heavens. She is awakened from her dream (itself within a dream) by a 'small green being with a long tail' - a barruguet - summoned by a little rhyme she earlier composed and recited. The funny little creature shows her how the traditional houses are built, and still within the dream she witnesses the gradual erection of an entire building. She stays with her Ibicenco hosts over the course of an agricultural year, seeing numerous other traditional activities and at the end is woken by her younger brother who says that everyone is waiting for her on the beach. The bum-bag is dug up by the dog and Petra returns to her family, not quite sure what has been going on. Just like the reader.