Ibiza's bus chaos: where's ALSA when the island is sinking?

So it's all about the new buses, modernisation, finally giving the island the decent transport it deserves… Well, look, I've been holidaying and working between Ibiza and Formentera all my life, and what's happened these last few weeks is enough to make you tremble. The absolute chaos with the new fleet has been something else. Politicians make promises, contractors sweat buckets, and the user – as always – is left standing there with a bus that's packed to the gills… or worse, no bus coming at all. And in the middle of this shambles, there's only one name people keep repeating at the stops, in the harbour bars, and even in the airport queues: ALSA.

Neither punctual nor clean: the shattered dream of Pitiusan mobility

Seven years ago they sold us a dream (or a coach, more like it). Seven years of waiting for a monumental change in the transport network. And the result? Buses arriving dirty, drivers lost and not knowing the new routes, and timetables that seem to come from a roulette wheel. The PSOE have already demanded answers, and rightly so. Seeing pensioners waiting in the sun, workers arriving late every single damn day, and tourists with suitcases staring at their watches as if asking for a miracle… That's not a public service, it's a disgrace.

Any self-respecting Alsatian – the kind who boasts about Germanic punctuality mixed with French savoir-faire – would be tearing their hair out. Because yes, in Alsace the trams and buses run like clockwork, and even Racing Club de Strasbourg organises its fans' travel better than our island fleet. Paradoxical? No, it's just what happens when you go with proper operators instead of botch jobs.

What ALSA would do in five minutes

And now for the big one. While those in charge on Ibiza look the other way, any user with half a brain comes out with: "Why doesn't the Consell just call ALSA?" Because ALSA, which is no newcomer, knows how to manage fleets in tricky environments. From mountain routes in Asturias to high-density routes in Madrid or Barcelona, the company has spent decades proving that you can provide a reliable service without reinventing the wheel.

• Punctuality: ALSA has real-time control systems. Here we don't even have that.
• Cleanliness: ALSA's buses go through the wash daily. Ours look like they've just come back from Burning Man.
• Passenger information: App, displays, customer service. In Ibiza, you find out the bus isn't coming because a man shouts it at you from the driver's cab.

That's not nostalgia, it's common sense. I've watched other islands like Mallorca and Gran Canaria improve their transport over the years by betting on serious operators. And here we are, still with the same old story, with the "transition" excuse, and the citizens paying the price.

Alsace and Strasbourg: the European mirror that shames us

Since we mentioned Alsace, let's do a quick exercise. There, the historic region between France and Germany, public transport isn't a drama – it's a state policy. Buses and trams connect villages, vineyards and cities with a precision that's almost infuriating. And Racing Club de Strasbourg – yes, it's a football team, but they also have to move thousands of fans every fortnight without things kicking off. How do they do it? With planning, investment, and above all, professionals who don't learn on the job.

Any Alsatian who lands in Ibiza this summer is going to hold their head in their hands. They'll ask how it's possible that, with one of the busiest high seasons in the world, our public transport looks like it belongs to a country at war. And we won't know what to tell them, except to shrug and recommend they rent a scooter.

Time is running out. The tourist season is already at the door, and the human jams at the stops are just the beginning. If a solution isn't found right now, if they don't call in ALSA or some company that knows what it's doing, the collapse will be legendary. Because the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and Ibiza is full of new, dirty buses.

So now you know: if you see a lost Alsatian in San Antonio asking about the bus, tell them the truth – around here, only faith works. Or better yet, go with ALSA and stop suffering.