Now that Taula is called the Taula of Torralba d'en Salort. It was unexcavated and on an unmade road that was difficult to drive down. I had an old Peugeot moped that I drove quite illegally for a number of years and would visit it every year.
I once had a picnic lunch on Boxing day, the day after Christmas, actually sat on top of that stone. My mother took a picture of me doing so, I wonder where the picture is now?
In those days the level of the soil was about a third of the way up the main stem. There was a rock someone had put at the bottom and you could use those two holes cut in the spine to climb on top. It wasn't easy but a lot of people did it. It's impossible today. An English university dug it all in the 1970s. It is now a main tourist attraction, with space for buses to park and I think they even charge to look at it.
They found a bronze bull in there somewhere and I think they found the place where it's foot was broken off, set in a stone.
There are some good stones to be seen standing in the next field to the south. This is also where the bronze age well is. It has steps cut all the way down to the bottom and a sophisticated drainage channel for the water to run down without wetting the steps. It has long been closed off to anyone, but in the old days you would walk up to the farmhouse, the dogs would bark and the man would come out. If you asked him he would let you go and look at what was in his fields.
Menorca in the 1960s and 70s was a delight. Nobody ever locked their front doors, everyone knew everyone. You didn't knock on someone's door, you went straight in and shouted for them. It didn't matter if they were half naked. It was disconcerting at first when people came into your house unannounced, but actually the trust and respect everyone had was a beautiful thing.
A sophisticated jungle telegraph operated where news seemed to travel invisibly across the island within minutes. The island is only about 25 miles end to end and about 11 miles wide at the widest point. I once witnessed a horrendous car accident and by the time I drove to my village they already knew.
There were no telephones, but you could go to the main telegraph office in Mahon (where mayonnaise, mahonesa, was invented). You would queue on the stairs to make a telephone call. You would give the number to the operator who would make the call and hand you a handset. There was a bank of car batteries on the wall that powered the system - the main electricity was so unreliable. It would take you about an hour to make a simple call and you did it in full view of the people behind the desk and the people queuing on the stairs.
There was very little in the way of the Guardia Civil state police. They tried to recruit locals but nobody would join, on the grounds they would almost certainly know the person they were dealing with and it would cause family problems. Everyone is related, the main families being Pons, Carreras, Jordi and a few others.
There were no traffic lights - I remember the first one in Ciutadella being installed. People drove there just to look at it this wonder.
If you were walking anywhere, people would stop and offer a ride, as a matter of course. There are many times I arrived back home many hours later, having been invited in to share a 'quick' refreshment at a person's house, which turned into a meal and more drinks and story-telling and lots of back-slapping and laughter. A very drunken man would eventually drive you home, probably with a dozen eggs, some fresh fruit including a whole watermelon, some local cheese and bottle of home-made pomada, which is made from fresh lemons and gin. Easy to drink but lethal.
I remember that I could buy a whole tumbler of local gin for 3 pesetas, whereas a fizzy drink like coca-cola or tonic water was 15 pesetas.
In Franco's day it was oppressive too. Nobody was allowed on any beach after dark. There was still segregated male and female bathing. Bikinis were frowned upon. You had to be well dressed in the towns.
The death of Franco, corrupt left wing politicians taking massive bribes to develop holiday complexes and Spain's entry to the EEC led to rapid development. People got rich in Barcelona and started buying holiday homes too. They brought with them crime, drugs and delinquency. The doors got locked. Bars went up at windows. A part of me died.
Menorca is still fiercely independent. It has its own language, which is emphatically not the same as Catalan. It is not the same as the dialect spoken in Majorca either. It has a lot of Arabic words in it and is very guttural. Speak some of this and you are friends for life.
During the Spanish civil war Menorca opposed Franco's troops. The soldiers of course took over the island. They also requisitioned all the cars. One farmer had a car but would not say where it was. They beat him and bullied him but he still wouldn't say where he'd hidden it.
There is a paved Roman Road leading up the island's second largest steep hill, Santa Agueda. Almost at the top of this steep climb there is a small stone shed where he hid the car. They found it, pulled the car out of the shed and there it still stands today where they burned it in 1936. How he got it up there remains a mystery. A hot air balloon would be my best guess. There is no way he drove it up there. Maybe on a donkey cart, but how would it get up the stepped parts, which are very steep in places.