For an island in the Mediterranean, noise was once limited. It was an island that used to have the tag of the island of calm. Santiago Rusiñol, who described Mallorca thus, wouldn’t recognise the island nowadays.
The Tramuntana, it might be hoped, would still be a haven of quiet. But it isn’t. Three sound-level meters being shared by the police forces of 13 municipalities seem neither here nor there. The town halls hope these meters will tackle “noise delinquency”, that of souped-up motorbikes and cars and of buggy-type monstrosities that roar through village centres.
For once, tourism can’t solely be blamed for the mountains’ noise. Nor indeed can it be blamed for the mobile sound systems - those of cars and drivers who appear to believe that everyone wants to hear their techno thump.
Tourism is a cause, though, as are the growing number of events with official support. When hotels complained about the Reggaeton Beach Festival in Can Picafort, Santa Margalida’s mayor reckoned this was a bit rich. People complain about hotels’ noise. He was right, but one person’s noise doesn’t make another person’s noise better.
Silencers and terrace curfews there may be, but people have long given up caring about their unacceptable noise. And police don’t act in the summer because they’re hard pressed enough or they only have three meters among 13 forces.
Noise is not just a matter of resident-tourist coexistence, not by any means, but much of it does indeed come down to coexistence, for which town halls have responsibility, or are meant to. They are obliged to maintain coexistence, just as they are obliged to adhere to their own ordinance for dealing with noise and vibration. The Tramuntana town halls are doing something, but they could all do very much more.