The sow mother told her three little pigs that it was time to step out into the world and build their own homes. So they packed up and found a new world outside, a lush forest and a meadow full of beautiful flowers. Yet a hungry wolf watched them with eyes that burned like embers. Not every house the brothers built offered real safety, and the houses of straw and even wood cracked under the wolf’s appetite. He huffed, he puffed, and he blew those houses down. In the end, the much desired independence did not arrive as promised. The piglets ended up sharing a single room in the sturdy brick house of the eldest pig.
There is a stark portrait of creatures with huge fangs that could resemble many places. Yet it is time to bring the scene to my beloved Ibiza. There the distant neon glow of Holy Week appears, a season that resembles another tale of a ferocious wolf, this one arriving with a dusting of flour to threaten seven young goats. But this is just another illusion. A trap, a screen meant to lure with the promise of luxury tourism that would benefit everyone, ends up as a grand bed of resin and gold that soon reveals a deeper rot. The cycle repeats itself, a market that buys, sells, and buys again. And there are people like you and me watching the money pass by.
My son asked if there was a room to rent for a friend who works in Ibiza. Not just about the money, which she would gladly pay, but because one rental scam had already cost a lot. A twenty year old girl could not escape the harsh reality of the Ibiza shown in the daily listings not found in travel brochures. A quick browse through rental portals and Facebook groups named things like “Reasonable Rentals in Ibiza” or “Ibiza Scams” confirms that the first thing advertised is often not real and the second concerns are all too real.
Listings read like this: “Studio for 1,474,” “Room for rent from April to October 1,350 with a deposit,” “Shared room for two girls at 675 each plus expenses,” “A construction hut perfect for temporary living, furnished, 5,600,” “Beautiful tent with stunning views for 1,453 per month,” “A caravan for 7,933,” “A van for 3,300.” Amid so many ads from workers with stable jobs or non smokers who offer renovations, people still pay up to 1,100 for a room and wait for replies that never come. A man seeking a room for him, his wife, and their two children would pay up to 700, leaving a sense of compassion for their fragile situation.
In the middle of this, there are the same old scams and the wolves feasting on people’s fears. People end up making reservations for rooms that do not exist. They share stories of two scams that left them stranded and had them packing everything up in Madrid to start over somewhere else. The pattern is chilling, a parasite with no scruples who only profits from the desperation of those seeking a simple room to rent, paying as much as 1,300 a month.
The writer observes a painful truth about Ibiza, a place famous for its lifelong businesses that struggle to find workers. Bakers, doctors, police, and others are squeezed into small living spaces, their salaries eroded by rent. A 2019 fire in a boarded up building in Ibiza, owned by a bank asset manager at the time, exposed the cracks in the system. The structure stood as a reminder of how fragile lives can be under the weight of economic pressures and false promises. A community where 80 people once lived with a hint of danger and many held steady jobs, ended up facing a tragic accident that underscored the vulnerability of everyday life.
The author feels the ache for friends, for the young and not so young who struggle to build a future. It is hard to imagine starting again, growing a life, or raising a family when the odds seem stacked against them. The political rhetoric repeats in cycles, always promising to tighten grips and chase down issues but rarely delivering tangible results. Years pass, elections come and go, and life moves through a meadow where the flowers no longer flourish. Only the wolves keep blowing on fragile houses made of watchword money and fragile promises.
There is a line from a song that lingers in memory: “Think you are free because you walk loose, while the rope tightens around the neck.” The names behind that line echo through conversations and headlines, reminding everyone of the people who speak and the people who listen. And the words of those who sing them remain a quiet reminder of the divide between dream and reality, between glittering façades and the hard work of living day to day.
Ibiza remains a place of beauty and contradiction, a place where the shine of opportunities often masks a darker underside. The story is not just about a family of little pigs, or a market of inflated rents, or even a famed holiday island. It is about the struggle to find a safe, affordable home in a world where wealth and desire collide, where promises are easy, but accountability is rarer still.
In the end, the tale invites reflection on what communities owe to one another. It asks readers to look past glossy brochures and listen to the voices of those who feel edged out by the pace of change. It asks for a future where the doors to a basic, decent home are open to families and workers who contribute to the life of a place, without the fear of being priced out or left behind. The real question remains: who will stand up to protect the vulnerable and restore balance when the market seems to tilt toward scarcity and spectacle?