We’ve been living in the town of Felanitx for just about ten years now, having moved here from the countryside near Ca’s Concos des Cavaller. We love it here. The town is not yet firmly embedded on the tourist trail, the nearest playa and/or marina is a good distance away (13 kms), most expats prefer Santanyí (Germans) or Cala d’Or (Britons) to Felanitx, and generally, the place retains a sense of normality, with ordinary people doing their regular jobs and enjoying their everyday lives. The place could easily resemble Paradise, if only there were no Zampoñas (panpipes).

I can honestly not find anything wrong with Felanitx, with the exception of the weekly performance of South American panpipes’ groups. Every Sunday for the last ten years we have been bothered by tunes like El Cóndor Pasa, Hey Jude, Bridge Over Troubled Waters and the like, played on bamboo flutes by a charming ensemble of musicians from Ecuador. Don’t get me wrong. I love Ecuadorians, I love South America, I love panpipes and I love El Cóndor Pasa, but. There is this urgent but. The repetitious monotony of the same songs, played every Sunday for the last ten years in virtually the same order of play, week after week, the sickening sweetness of its pretend folkloric disguise and the commercial application of traditional Latin music to the tastes of the Western tourist are simply insufferable.

If you want to come to Felanitx, do yourself a favour. Do not come on a Sunday.

The photo was taken in Felanitx, Mallorca, Baleares, Spain. The date: May 16th, 2010. The time was 10:05:36.