1995 Eivissa (Ibiza): The Prime Minister's here!

0900 Clockwork routine. Mayra (at left) is a morning sloth, and as usual, is almost late for school. Daniel has some business in Sant Miquel de Balansat with Ute, the cook at the once and future restaurant at ECO. My plan du jour is to go with him and then spend the rest of my day exploring Sant Miquel, Port de Sant Miquel (several kilometers down the coast), and then continuing on to Benirràs, where I'll be picked up by Michael at 1700 for movie duty. Right now we're waiting for Leslie to arrive; usually by this time she's come to Fernandito's to get her caffè con leche and has ECO open for business.

Daniel wonders if Leslie'd said (and he'd forgotten) that today was the day she was going to tackle the bureaucracy in Eivissa Ciudad and renew her residencia. Never an easy process, this time through Leslie's (at right) going to deal with having her married name on one set of papers and her maiden name on others.

As we're sitting here a friend, having dropped her son off at school, arrives for morning coffee. After half a cup she bums a cigarette off someone, accepts the proffered light, and then explains to all at the Round Table that she's not buying cigarettes today in the hopes that she'll smoke less. (And have less friends during this phase, I manage not to say.) Ross (at left), an frequent visitor to Eivissa, stops by for morning espresso. He still hasn't sold the Rolex he's been hawking.

1000 Fernandito arrives in an uncharacteristic rush, out of breath. He stops at my table, reaches out to touch my arm, and with a proud look in his eyes says to me says "1995 Eivissa (Ibiza): The Prime Minister's here! 1995 Eivissa (Ibiza): The Prime Minister's here! I'd better go inside." I'd noticed a bunch of "suits" arrive a bit earlier. I take a closer look. The PM of the Belearic Islands and his entourage are all men, most dressed in dark blue or black blaziers with white dress shirts. There is no visible security detail, but there is one man with an unbuttoned blazier who stans on the enterance steps, looking people over. Locals and a few tourists come and go. One of the only other bearded men I've seen on Eivissa is also on the steps. (Later I decide that he doesn't care enough; perhaps it's the solidly-built man in the slate grey suit who's always carrying what appears to be a cellular telephone. Or perhaps the PM travels without security. Nope, they give it away when the PM leaves; the security man wears a hounds-tooth cream and black jacket and vettes potential threats as he walks in front of, and to the right of, the PM.) Another man I notice is wearing a rumpled dark green blazier, and somehow doesn't fit in with thc rest of the travelling politicos. He turns, and I see the camera. A member of the press who keeps his blazier stuffed under the front seat of his car; that I can believe.

1040 The PM is gone and Daniel hasn't yet returned. I guess my plans will be changing. An hour ago the sky was half full with whispy stratocumulus clouds that looked on their way to clearing up. Now the sky is completely obscured by a heavy blanket. It's still bright and cheery but not sunny and hot. Another reason to change plans, maybe. Michael just drove up; I'll see if he has any suggestions about how to spend my day. Michael & Joy have bad news: their projector broke last night. (This is especially funny because the last time they tried to show JSC, a year ago, Perry's projector died. For days now folks have been predicting that the curse will strike again.) Rather than cancel, they're trying to get a hold of Perry to see if with their combined home theater systems it can be pulled off. Alas, Perry's assistant has opened the store (in Sant Gertrudis), and tells Michael over the phone that Perry's whereabouts are unknown. A road trip to Perry's house is considered, but by this time of day he could be anywhere. They cancel by calling the few who have telephones and posting notes at ECO for the rest. Now I really have nothing to do.

Concrete pole The temperature has dropped in the aftermath of the shower - it could almost be called "chilly" (or as the locals say: "freezing"). My compelling insights into the changing weather are rudely interrupted by the squeal of a small-engine motorcycle. I'm not a fan of bureaucracy (and Spain sure has some entrenched ones: Telefonica is moving all phone lines underground at the same time the electric company is planting new wire poles (at right)), but this island needs a noise pollution control (abatement) board. The horrid squeal, whines, and roars of old and underpowered combustion engines really impinges on time spent on Eivissa.

My next suggestion for the Grafitti folks: make (or have a preference setting for) making a sound upon entering a "meta-state" such as All Caps or Numeric mode. While blind-writing I accidentally turned on Numeric mode and wrote a sentence of complete gibberish. Heck, put the toggle right on top of the "Grafitti Patch" window. (You are going to incorporate G.P. in the near future, aren't you?)

Daniel finally reaches Certified Apple technician Ricardo, at "Cut and Paste" in Barcelona. Summary: he doesn't know anything, but he can swap out the motherboard for $500. It's the motherboard that was replaced a few months ago for problems with the cheap way Apple choose to affix the video output connector to the motherboard. It's a sad day when "modular" means "replace the whole thing". Shortsighted product design engineers (and their unreasonable taskmasters).

The day ends with me showing Mayra some very basic Aikido.

Have you found errors nontrivial or marginal, factual, analytical and illogical, arithmetical, temporal, or even typographical? Please let me know; drop me email. Thanks!

What's New? • Search this Site • Website Map
Travel • Burning Man • San Francisco
Kilts! Kilts! Kilts! • Macintosh • Technology • CU-SeeMe