What Future Awaits Those of Us Who Live and Work in Ciutadella?

Bep Al·lès / Ciutadella

When November arrives and the tourist season is declared over, in Ciutadella we once again recognise ourselves in the silence. The resorts have been empty for weeks, many bars and restaurants have already closed their doors, and the streets of the old town recover that calm we miss so much during the busiest months.

But as we start to breathe again, many of us ask the same question: what future do we have, those of us who live and work here, when everything around us still depends on tourism?

An Economy Living to the Rhythm of the Seasons

In Ciutadella, and in much of Menorca, we continue to live marked by the tourist calendar. Each spring we reopen, and each autumn we close again. And so it goes, year after year. It’s a wheel that keeps turning, but one that spins with increasing wear and uncertainty.

Seasonal workers chain together endless hours to make it through the winter; small business owners fight to keep their ventures alive; and young people, after studying away, do not return because they find no opportunities beyond the summer months.

It’s a reality everyone knows, but one that is hard to confront. Tourism gives us life, yes, but it also shapes—and limits—our economic, social, and cultural model. It provides jobs, but it also makes us dependent.

A Tourism That Changes — And We With It

This summer has once again shown us how the type of visitor is changing: younger, more unpredictable, more low cost. Fewer families and more groups of friends looking for sun, parties, and cheap accommodation. A tourism that shops at supermarkets and eats in apartments, that visits the town less and stretches the nights into the early hours.

This evolution is not only economic, but also cultural. The visitor who arrives today does not always understand or respect the peaceful, natural, and slow-paced Menorca we want to preserve.

And this should make us reflect. Because if Menorca loses its character, its charm, its way of being—what will remain? Will we become just another Mediterranean destination, saturated, noisy, and soulless? The old town of Ciutadella is already a worrying example of that.

The Price of an Exhausted Model

The figures from this summer are deceptive: there have been more visitors than ever, but spending hasn’t followed. Meanwhile, costs have skyrocketed—energy, transport, rents, staff—and business margins have shrunk.

Many bars and restaurants have endured with effort; others have chosen to close early or wait to reopen until things improve. And there’s a growing sense that the model, as we know it, is beginning to falter.

There is also environmental and social wear: crowded roads, packed beaches, a lack of affordable housing, water shortages, and overstretched public services. We all pay the price, but too often those who can least afford it are the ones who suffer most.

A Winter to Think It Over

Now that winter arrives and work slows down, it’s time to look back and take stock. Perhaps the time has come to talk seriously about diversification—to bet on complementary sectors such as agriculture, culture, technology, crafts, education, or renewable energies.

It’s not about abandoning tourism—it would be naïve to think so—but about making it more sustainable and more balanced. About betting on a model that values who we are, rather than forcing us to change to fit it.

Because Menorca cannot compete on price—it must compete on quality. We cannot keep lowering the bar to attract more people if doing so means losing our identity.

The Future in Our Hands

Ciutadella has talent, experience, and people who want to do things well. There are restaurateurs who champion local produce, young entrepreneurs launching sustainable initiatives, farmers keeping the countryside alive, fishermen who persist despite difficulties, and artists projecting our culture beyond the island.

But all that effort needs support, vision, and policies that think about the future of residents—not only of visitors. It is the visitors who should adapt to the island, not the island to them.

Perhaps the future lies in fewer numbers but greater quality; in better redistributing the season; in better training for workers; in valuing well-done work; and in protecting what makes us unique.

Looking Inward Again

Sometimes it seems we live obsessed with pleasing those who come from outside. But perhaps the future of Ciutadella—and of all Menorca—depends on looking inward again: caring for our people, our places, and our way of life.

If we do things right, the kind of tourist who truly respects and understands us will keep coming, as before, when the island wasn’t so overcrowded. And if not, then maybe not everyone needs to come.

The challenge is great, but it is also an opportunity—to imagine a more human, more balanced, and more coherent model with who we are.

One Island, One Rhythm, One Way of Life

When the November sun sets behind the Sant Nicolau Castle and the only sound is that of a boat returning to port, it’s easy to remember why we love this land.

The future of those who live and work in Ciutadella is not written, but it depends on us: on whether we can defend our way of life without giving up progress, on whether we can say “enough” when it’s needed, and on whether we keep alive that Menorcan essence that, despite everything, still moves us.

In the end, the future may not be so much a question of economics as of identity. And if we can remember who we are, we will always know where to go.