2011 news of the year in the timeshare world: Marriott Vacation Club International spin-off

When those of us doing business in the timeshare industry heard the news that Marriott International, Inc. is splitting off its Marriott Vacation Club International (MVCI), we were stunned. What will this mean for the industry? At an ARDA event more than ten years ago we had heard Bill Marriott claim that vacation ownership revenues were the company’s greatest source of income. Times have changed and the hoteliers are now disenchanted. One has to believe this is short-term thinking.

We believe that the timeshare/vacation ownership industry will rebound stronger than ever, in concert with the U.S. economy. In the industry’s 30-plus years, it has been proven time and again that the health of our business is cyclical. When it recovers, it will most certainly be a stronger and more resilient product. Perhaps the underlying real estate aspect to the U.S. version of timeshare may change; maybe not. But one thing is for sure: hotel rates will rebound and make vacationing at a hotel formidably expensive for the middle class family.

According to an article from Keith Trowbridge’s February 2011 newsletter (http://www.execq.com), one hotshot analyst claimed that timeshare has caused publicly traded companies to lose value with the rating companies. We remember when rating companies were only too eager to give timeshare paper plus-A ratings. And they will, again (probably after this analyst is making other ‘learned’ pronouncements about what a great low-risk investment it is).

Sure, after the announcement, Marriott stock was up by a few bucks. The short-term gains were probably not the corporation’s chief objective, though. No, this is a play to segregate debt by unloading it from their balance sheet.

Marriott says the timeshare club will continue using the Marriott and Ritz-Carlton brands in the timeshare business. According to the company’s public reports, MVCI’s 2010 revenue was approximately $1.5 billion, with 71 properties and more than 400,000 owners.

Other timeshare companies with far fewer owners have managed to carve new business from their existing customer base – one area in which MVCI could potentially increase its efforts. If they are to be taken at their word that MVCI may continue to utilize the Marriott and Ritz Carlton brands, then for our money, MVCI looks like a terrific investment at this time. Of course, I am definitely not in the business of giving investment advice!

Senior living in Arizona

I'm checking out senior living at PebbleCreek Resort in Goodyear, Arizona. So far, I'm 'a-seein' and I'm a-likin'.' This place has it all: sports of all kinds including 45 holes of golf, a theater, restaurants and lounges and an arts and crafts center to die for!

A group of seven of us go to Happy Hour at P.F. Chang’s. (During my stay with friends Carol and Don, I learn that today's senior views happy hour as the answer to what my folks used to call the Early Bird Special.) For $50.00 we gorge ourselves on fried, crispy green beans; lettuce wraps; pork and chicken dumplings; edamame potstickers and drinks. (I’m an instant fan of the barkeep after my Johnny Walker Black on the rocks arrives. It’s served in a small water glass and filled to the brim.)

One of our party, Connie, launches into a description about the many malaises and mishaps of her neighbors – standard dinner table conversation among seniors, one must suppose. It gives one pause, however, to consider playing 18 holes of golf one day, playing a hot and heavy game of bridge that night and falling down dead the next day. She becomes more animinated, providing gory in-depth descriptions and relishing their affect on her listeners. Her stories become so bizarre, with each one more gruesome than the next, our table is soon in hysterics. The tales were becoming almost surreal in their number and horrific detail, after all.

Earlier in day, we tour the models. The interiors and architecture of the homes in PebbleCreek are breathtakingly contemporary and refreshingly Arizonan (if that's a word). I'm collecting more than my share of design ideas as we wander through rooms painted in tans, mauves and ochres with desert-themed appointments.

A ride through the neighborhood reveals the occasional RV parked in front of a resident's abode, waiting to be filled with supplies (the CC&Rs allow you to park your RV in front for two or three days at the most). These people are living life to the fullest, I think. Where else on earth can you live like this for so little? We Americans are truly a privileged people. I guess if we’ve all got to go, a retirement community such as this is one of the best routes to an exit you could have. I think you just have to remember to keep the discussions of more somber events away from the supper table.

Sevilla serenade

The bus picks me up at 0730. It’s still dark. By dawn, we are given a “coffee break” on our way to Seville and I gratefully stumble off the bus.

“Café negro, por favor,” I request. The barista chuckles to her associate and I overhear the words ‘café negro.’  The two grin and glance in my direction.

“Como se dice en Espanol,” I inquire, “café sin leche?”

“Café solo.” Okay. I request a double solo.

Our guide, Anabelle, gives us 20 minutes, but when I return to the parking lot, there are ten buses all looking the same and with no familiar faces onboard. Earlier I had met a group of eight 20-somethings –each girl lovelier than the next – all visiting from New York. Fortunately, one of my New Yorkers sounds the alarm that I’ve been left behind and the bus returns. Anabelle chastises me; it’s a mistake I don’t intend to repeat!

When we reach the center of the ancient part of Sevilla, we are serenaded through narrow, medieval-sized passages by two guitarists. We are charmed. One of our New Yorkers – perhaps the very damsel who saved me from the bus terminal – is so taken with their music that she begins to dance along the passageway. The singers quickly take her queue and launch into a jaunty rendition of The Macarena. (This number has long been a favorite of dare-I-say thousands of men who have been left on the sidelines to watch their dates or spouses drunkenly bump into one another on the dance floor while attempting to execute its intricate set of moves.) No one bumps into anyone on this occasion, however, and this author shows her delight with ample tips for each gent.

We’re told there were two significant international events that occurred in Seville – one in 1929 and the other in 1992. Our first stop at the Plaza de Espana was from the earlier and recreates the magnificent renaissance and neoclassical architecture we’ll find throughout the tour. Built for the Iberoamerican Exhibition of 1929, we are awed within its semicircle. Later, we take a barge ride on the Guadalquivir past the site of the 1992 World Exposition with its monuments to Europe’s first space rocket and the first Spanish-built satellite.

But the most important events in the city probably started in 200 B.C.  when the city began to grow in the Jewish quarter through which we are now passing on our way to the Santa Metropolitana Y Patriarcal Iglesia Catedral De Sevilla (or, let’s just say, the Cathedra)l. The church’s bell tower, the Giralda, was converted from what had formerly been a Moslem minaret. At the top of its 97 meters is a giant bronze weathervane representing ‘Faith Victorious,’ with which the city fathers were apparently much enthralled. They had a duplicate made of the sculpture and planted in front of the church. We all stand and admire it, compliantly. But the real show is inside.

Seville’s Cathedral is the third largest in the world and has a super impressive collection of paintings, sculptures, friezes and stained glass, as well as both Gothic and Baroque ornamentation. In addition to ogling artistic creations from the Baroque to Renaissance eras, you can visit the remains of Christopher Columbus. Our guide is passionately and firmly, 100 percent, convinced that Seville’s Columbus remains are the genuine article. It seems that interlopers in the Dominican Republic are laying claim to a duplicate set and she’s not buying it. She has quite a bit to say about DNA testing to prove she’s right. But unfortunately, I miss most of it because she transitions from English into Spanish. Plus, the pace of Spanish speaking I’ve experienced here in Andalucia is turbo-charged. So I’ll just take her word for it that this is Chris’ final resting place.

On the road back, Anabelle shares with me that she is a little distracted because her husband lost his job on Friday. (That explains to me how I almost got left at the bus depot.) The couple lives in Granada where she says the unemployment rate is 30 percent. She thinks they may have better luck for him to find work in Malaga. I can understand how stress about survival can impose itself over every part of your mind.

I’m a little in awe of this young woman whose English, French, German and Spanish have all sounded so effortless. I figure someone of her talent must be married to a pretty accomplished guy. If they’re having troubles, what does that indicate for the region? We’ll explore what’s happening to the economy in Grenada and in all European tourist regions more in the future.

Shown above: One of two towers framing the 1929 Plaza de Espana like bookends.

Gibraltar meets "Night of the Living Dead"

The main thoroughfare into Her Majesty’s enclave is Winston Churchill Avenue, which cuts smack-dab through the middle of Gibraltar Airport’s runway. From The Rock – the southernmost point in Europe at the tip of the Iberian Peninsula, which sits above the entrance from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean – you can visualize the steady pounding and smoke of cannons as steel-hearted Redcoasts defend Gibraltar during The Great Siege.

Spain had sided with what was to become the United States during the American Revolution and tried to retake this tiny territory beginning in 1779, despite an earlier treaty to cede the space to Britain. We are told by Wikipedia, "This was the largest action fought during the war in terms of numbers, particularly the Grand Assault of 18 September 1782. It was the longest siege endured by the British Armed Forces, as well as being one of the longest continuous sieges in history."

Most of the people we see throughout the day appear to be tourists conducting a siege of their own. Carrying out their assaults on sites, shops and eateries along Main Street are principally British holiday-makers, joined in lesser numbers by German, French, Dutch and, oh yeah, American.

I meet Kathy and Jim from South Carolina who are vacationing here for their 45th wedding anniversary as we’re debussing at our first stop, St. Michael’s Cave. I overhear Kathy musing on last visiting a cave “somewhere in Virginia.”

“Do you mean Luray Caverns?” I suggest.

“Yes! That’s it!” Kathy is the bouncy, enthusiastic one of the pair.

“And what exactly are we supposed to be doing in here?” asks Jim impatiently, glancing about at the solidified drippings that have steadily worked for millions of years to form stalactites and stalagmites.

“Well, let’s agree that it’s very lovely, but we’re done here,” I reply. We all agree we need a coffee. We look unsuccessfully for an exit sign.

Here, according to Wikipedia again: “Officers looking for adventure during quiet times of service, would pass their time exploring the many passages within the cave system. Sometime before 1840, Colonel Mitchell accompanied by a second officer got lost in the caves and were never seen again. Their disappearance led to extensive explorations of the cave system in 1840, 1857 and 1865, but no evidence of the officers' whereabouts was found. Further exploration was carried out between 1936 and 1938, when a scientific expedition was mounted and every known part of the cave system was explored but again no human remains were found.”

Download now or watch on posterous

Gibraltar_manques.MOV (20404 KB)

We turn around and head back to exit from the entrance. “We’re probably the quickest tour they’ll have all day,” Jim remarks on the way out. We stop for a coffee in the tiny shop and then head outdoors for the bus.

The others in our party are watching our guide as he (illegally) feeds a large family of Barbary Macaques, the tailless golden-haired monkeys for which the Rock is famous. I quickly learn to stay away from trees, railings or the bus. The little critters are catapulting themselves from every elevated surface and landing on the heads of unsuspecting tourists. They seem particularly drawn to the soft tresses of a group of New York coeds who are no doubt traumatized for life by now.

Our tour guide fancies himself to be quite the entertainer. He intersperses his English-speaking monologue with a taped presentation for the four French visitors on the bus. Never have I wished to understand French more! While I catch phrases of the French CD version discussing topics such as “king,” “queen,” “Napoleon” and “The Battle of Trafalgar,” our tour guide launches into his trove of comedy material and describes how he drives through the narrow streets of “the Rock” five times daily. (Apparently, he is trying to beat some sort of personal speed record.) .  Breathlessly, he says that while ‘petro’ (95.5 pence) and food is less costly here than in England, a one-bedroom condo will run you 500K pounds. (Pause for gasps all-round.)

Armed with such vital information, we travel to the top of the Rock of Gibraltar from whence we can gaze longingly from the breathtaking height down to where tankers look like toy boats, hundreds of feet below. But, no. Sorry. No getting out of the bus for photos.

By 13:45, we are deposited at the base of the old section of town – a commercial area filled with duty-free jewelry, liquor, clothing and perfume vendors. I join Nel and Jost from Holland for lunch. They are anxious to sit in the sun. While they bake their already-pink faces in that for which the Costa del Sol is named, I ‘go California’ with sunglasses and a visor. Mine is the only visor I have ever seen in all of Europe thus far. (Of course, it is January, after all!)

What could be more British than fish and chips? They arrive crisped to absolute perfection. I wash them down with a beer.

Later, we stroll along Main Street until it’s time to catch the bus back. I look at the rest of the people on the streets. En masse, we are all marching like zombies from the film,” Night of the Living Dead.” Marching, marching, we pass the shops. We pass the fish and chips place. As if by some invisible force, we are drawn towards the bus depot. (Fortunately, there’s just enough time to buy a couple more mementos.)

Once on the bus, we drive east past Estepona, Marbella and finally arrive in Elviria in time for me to start my working day. (It’s just about 8:00 am on the U.S. West Coast, while it’s 16:00, or 4:00 pm here in Spain. It’s been a long day; but then, my day is really just beginning!