We don't know where to go: Occupiers live in an abandoned holiday complex near Can Picafort

Between Decay and Hope: This is how people live in the "Espigol Beach"

If you drive along the coastal road toward Son Bauló, the half-derelict building hardly stands out – until you approach closer. Windows with "Se vende" signs, geraniums that are withered, and here and there a bicycle that doesn't quite roll smoothly. The complex, which used to cater to vacationers, has been empty for years. People who can't find another place to stay now live there.

"We don't want problems" – Voices from the house

I spoke with one of the residents, a man in his mid-thirties who acts as spokesman. He says: "We want to live like everyone else. But we can't afford an apartment." In several apartments there are families, babies are also there. The origins are varied: people from Africa, some without valid papers, but also Spaniards and other nationalities. It doesn't sound like an adventure, but like a makeshift solution.

The residents say they clean stairwells, collect garbage bags, and try to keep the site reasonably maintained. We cover the pool at night to prevent mosquitoes from breeding, says a young mother – and softly adds that the pool is no longer a place to bathe but a stagnant body of water that causes concern.

A pool that becomes a problem

The pool is no longer a romantic detail. In the pictures you can see algae, dirty water and insect larvae. The residents demand that the municipality at least turn off the water or cover the pool. Some even say they would help, financially as well, if the authorities go along. It sounds paradoxical: people who live illegally offer help because they have to live here.

No easy solution

Of course it's legally complicated. The complex Espigol Beach used to have tourist plans, later apartments were to be sold – without a clear occupancy permit. That creates legal gray areas. The municipality of Santa Margalida responds with the usual cautious language: no hasty evictions, but also no immediate legalization. And so the situation remains between bureaucratic waiting and everyday coping.

From my experience, many people on the island do not like to talk about such cases. People prefer to see postcard beaches. Yet these are exactly the stories that explain why the housing market is so tight: even people with regular incomes can barely find a place to live. This is not only a problem for tourist areas, but for the entire island.

What now? Politics, neighborhood, pragmatism

The residents' demand is simple: recognition and pragmatic solutions. They ask the municipality to remove health risks at the pool and to find ways to enable at least transitional housing. At the same time, some neighbors show understanding, others fear – quite normal in small towns where everyone knows everyone.

I'm not a judge in this matter. But as someone who lives here, I see how quickly empty concrete blocks become emergency shelters. And I hear voices saying: If politics does not react soon, such occupations will keep increasing. This is not a drama for the newspaper, this is everyday life for families who have no other choice.

What remains: A half-empty building, voices asking for a perspective, and a problem that cannot be locked away. Perhaps this is a call to the town hall and island politics: act more pragmatically before emergencies become bigger conflicts.