Some people are upset that Malta is missing out on the opportunity to become the new Ibiza. Believe it or not, there are those amongst us who are vying to push the renowned Balearic island off its pedestal as the ‘entertainment island of the world’ (Guinness Book of Records) and entice thousands of party-goers to our shores.
I can understand where they are coming from. Ibiza is overwhelmed with crowds of young revellers every year, who spend lots of money on club entrance fees and alcohol. However it does not necessarily follow that going down that route makes sense for Malta.
The party tourism culture is one that has wreaked havoc on the island of Ibiza and its inhabitants. They have had to learn to live alongside a swarm of crazed youngsters who visit the island with the sole intention of partying all night, drinking as much as their bellies will allow them to, smoking or snorting whatever they manage to lay their hands on and getting laid as often as possible.
The island has become a drugs haven – tourists who use drugs at home fly there in order to enjoy a few days of excess. Of those who have still not been initiated, 16% tried out drugs for the first time when on holiday in the resort. The drug activity has resulted in an increase in crime on the island, with gangs fighting for a larger slice of the drug trade. The situation is also causing major strain on Ibiza’s medical facilities. Intoxicated tourists make up 80% of all drug overdose cases that require emergency care in hospitals on the island. The patients tend to be men between the ages of 18 and 30 who have ingested a combination of alcohol and tranquilizers, marijuana or the depressant GHB, known as liquid ecstasy, according to research by Can Misses hospital in Ibiza.
All this has had a terrible impact on the image of Ibiza as a holiday destination. Tourists who are not interested in letting it all hang out on the beach are opting for other locations and now the island is caught in a vicious cycle where they are damned if they do and damned if they don’t.
So I think that it is a good thing that we are missing out on this “great opportunity”. It would be madness to walk in the footsteps of an island that has almost destroyed itself in the process of becoming a major party destination.
We have a lot going for us and do not need to stoop to attracting the dredges of society to our shores. We can do a lot better than that.
The road to Auschwitz… Is paved with gold, according to Victor Spiteri, president of the Public Transport Association. I am sure that you all remember the incredibly insensitive comment the man made last week while he and his fellow bus owners waited to sign on the dotted line to receive a generous government handout “as if they were queuing to enter the Auschwitz concentration camp”.
Let us explore this statement further, shall we? Owners of the low-floor buses are to receive €123,000 for their bus and licence. Just how bad a deal is this, considering the fact that the president of their association is equating it with a visit to the gas chambers?
Well, each bus was purchased five to ten years ago and cost approximately €105,000, of which €74,500 was paid by the government. This means that the total cost to the bus owner was €30,500. The buses have obviously gone down in value since then (in fact they will now be sold for €13000 to the new transport operator), and the depreciation of the vehicle would have featured as a tax deductible expense in the bus owner’s accounts. However, notwithstanding all this, the bus owners will receive €123,000 per vehicle – a handsome 403% return on their original investment. They will also not be out of a job, since they have been given a 10-year employment guarantee.
With all due respect, comparing such a situation to that experienced by Jews and other poor souls on the way to the Auschwitz concentration camp is not only idiotic, but crass and insensitive.
This week we commemorated the 65th anniversary of the liberation of the Auschwitz-Birkenau Nazi death camp. I visited the camp myself a few years ago and there is no way to describe the desolation that you feel when you walk in through the complex’s entrance. It weighs you down and you leave the place feeling the heaviness of the desperation that permeates the place.
Clearly Mr Spiteri never stood before the mountains of spectacles, the piles of suitcases and the mounds of human hair – testament to the thousands of people who met their deaths in this camp. If he had, he would never have compared his “plight” to that of people on their way to extermination.
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