Spain: Tarifa

The bus ride to Tarifa was the first real change of scenery we got since the mountains of Granada. Lush green hills snaked along the edge of Spain and the clear blue Mediterranean. The bus ride was interesting as well. We had a bus driver suffering from severe PMS because she got into an argument with one of the passengers and even after he got up and retreated to the back of the bus, she was still yelling at him from the drivers sear. She also decided to get off the bus at one point to bark orders at a bunch of construction workers who were just doing their jobs. They cooperated to avoid her hormonal wrath and redirected traffic so that we could pass the blocked off street on the opposite side of the road.

Arriving in Tarifa was a relief. We walked down the town’s main street which was furbished with surf shops and tattoo parlors. This was definitely a shore town. Carrie was actually very excited to go shopping on one of her days; I was hoping to distract her enough to forget about. We continued along to find our Hostal, Hostal Africa. The very affordable room was the best and most luxurious of the trip. It was a clean, well painted, and well lit room. The shower was perfect and we were adjacent to the roof top access. The roof garden was fitted with tables and chairs where we ate a lot. There was also a gazebo where we read and played cards a lot and took shade from the sun. From the roof is where we got our first glance at Morocco. Honestly, Africa looked so close I almost fooled myself into thinking I could simply reach out and touch it.

The first day we went to the beach. It took us awhile before we finally settled on a spot. It was along a little cove set aside strictly for swimmers; most of the other stretches of beach were being used by windsurfers and kite surfers. Although, it was cool to see the sky filled with a large range of kites varying in size, shape, and color. The water was cold but clear and really refreshing. The beach was of fine white sand. Most of the crowd was young and it made me feel connected to my generation in way. This is what people my age were doing on the coast in Spain. Carrie sometimes criticized me for being too touristy by wearing my technical gear when we explore places… But now I was just in my board shorts and sandals. The day ended and we each received pretty good sunburns, though I think Carrie’s chest was the worse of our burns.

The next day was very thrilling. I didn’t tell anyone I was considering this, but we hopped on a ferry and went to Tangier Morocco for the day. I feel it is quite an accomplishment to have made it to Africa on this trip, and I still can’t believe I was there. When we arrived we were introduced to Moroccan hospitality and friendliness immediately. A dock worker helped a complete stranger up a huge flight of stairs with his luggage. Back home, workers would certainly feel they were too busy to lend a helping hand… but everyone we passed in the city was always smiling and waving to us. It was a very welcoming atmosphere.

Before we even stepped out of the port, we were bombarded by tour guides looking to quickly grab any tourists upon arrival. We selected the guide who best suited our needs… a very experienced tour guide name Said. He spoke 5 languages and has lived in Miami and reminded me of a Muslim Obiwan Kenobi, especially since he was wearing a sagely robe. He taught us a multitude of things about Tangier and the Muslim culture. We went on a camel ride, saw a cobra. We ate in a very affordable restaurant where we were treated to a traditional Moroccan meal of olives, vegetable soup, couscous, pastries and chicken dishes accompanied by the tunes of Moroccan musicians. Tangier was full of cats, being the pet of choice; even in the restaurant there were two freely walking about the dining area, weaving in and out of the tables searching for scraps. Said took us through old town, where we looked in shops filled with crafts: carpets, jewelry, knives, tiles, traditional clothes, statuettes, and more. We saw a lot of normal Moroccan life as well. We were welcomed into tiny bakeries and markets to watch men work—we never saw a women working (must be a cultural thing). Although we left Morocco in a day, it felt like we experienced a week’s worth of the time. We returned on the ferry; I was quiet on the return ride still trying to take everything in.

The next day it rained in Tarifa, which was alright, because our sunburned bodies couldn’t take much more sun. We did get a chance to go souvenir shopping and run some errands. Carrie and I picked up matching cartilage earrings because I lost mine playing football at the abbey and hey, it was less permanent than getting matching tattoos… We had a great dinner that night. We dressed up and sat in a restaurant and had a great night. We must have stayed there for three hours. It was like a little date, we ate olives, shared sangria, and talked through the whole meal. When we had to leave we really wished we stayed one more day. This Hostal could never be beat and we were beginning to fear that Madrid, wouldn’t keep us as busy as we would like.

Spain: Sevilla

Sevilla really wasn’t that much to look out, but there were many treasures to be found if you looked hard enough—probably between every other street where a Starbucks wasn’t… For the most part, Spain was void of commercial franchises, Sevilla and certain parts of Madrid were the exceptions. However the culture stills survives amidst this debauchery of independent entrepreneurial establishments. Carrie and I got to attend a Flamenco performance, for example, and a bullfight in Madrid (I’ll save that story for later).

The Flamenco performance was a great experience, never have I seen performance art fueled with such energy, passion, cooperation, and (believe it or not) anger. The dancers performed mainly solo pieces, protecting us from the cliché bombardment of partner skits that were growing ever popular in flamenco tourist traps. They stomped their feet, sending heart pounding energy into the audience as the musicians stomped and clapped in unison. The music and dancers complemented each other and made it obvious the one could not live without the other. No performer left the act sweat free. It was a very powerful performance.

Another charm of the city was the Barrows, the old Jewish corridor that consisted of tightly packed buildings leaving only enough room for tiny lanes know as kissing lanes (probably got the name because it looked like the buildings were close enough to kiss, but I like to think it is because if you and a certain friend stand with your backs to opposite walls you would be close enough to reach out and kiss them, at least, that’s what I did). These little streets were fun to navigate and get lost in—with their tiny plazas, shops and tapas bars.

The most impressive piece of architecture had to be the Plaza de España. The enormous half-circle plaza is a fine example of Moorish revival. The building has many archways and two tall symmetrically placed towers with traditional dome crowns. Most of the plaza was accessible for free and it was enjoyable walking between its dwarfing pillars and walkways.

Another monument in Sevilla, similarly built in the Moorish design was Alcázar. This was built over Moorish ruins for King Pedro of Castile. Pedro used Moorish workers to build his palace giving it a distinctly Islamic design. The palace is one of the best remaining examples of mudéjar architecture, a style under Christian rule in Spain but using Islamic architectural influence. One of the most obvious ways of telling that this monument was indeed an imitation of Moorish architecture was by looking at the great tile and ceiling work and seeing depictions and images of faces, animals, and other objects. Most Muslims would shy away from displaying images in their artwork because it goes against their religion. But for the most part, the Alcázar was just a smaller and less impressive Alhambra.

Carrie and I mainly went on long walks to pass the time. Walking in the Parque Maria Luisa and along the River Guadalquivir were definitely the most scenic routes. The park was also the best park we would see, in my opinion. But, we did find ourselves a little bored and it was sort of a relief to finally be heading towards Tarifa.

Spain: Granada

I know it has been a while since I have posted, in fact by the time I publish this I will already be home. I have decided to write about my trip to Spain in four parts; one entry for each of the cities I visited. Hopefully I will get all of these entries published within the next week.

First of all, I had very mixed feelings about the day I left Wroxton. Everybody was geared up to go home and excited to see their friends and family. I, on the other hand, was more concerned about saying goodbye to everybody so that I could catch my flight. At the same time, I was a little upset not traveling home with the people I just spent four months with. At some instances I even found myself jealous that these people were going to be eating a homed cooked meal that night. It had been a long four months and I was being to feel that a vacation home my not have been such an idea before traveling again. But Carrie and I had to say are farewells and rush off to the coach park to hitch a ride to another airport.

We landed in Granada late the evening. The skies were dark and we really couldn’t make heads or tales of our surroundings. In fact, I remember, while riding a bus into the city, seeing lights suspended in the sky in a hauntingly familiar circular pattern that reminded me of UFOs. First night in Spain and we had already walk into a full scale alien invasion… But alas, there were no aliens. They were the streets lights of distance neighborhoods nestled in the hills and mountain sides. But the night sky was like a tarp draped over the breathtaking landscape that wouldn’t be lifted until morning—but damn was it a great surprise.

I can’t really capture the words for my initial reaction to stepping out onto Granada streets and seeing the clear blue sky hovering over the tan city that almost blended in with the golden hills and red mountains encircling it. My mouth was gaping… But the full picture wasn’t revealed until we found our way to one of the viewpoints. San Nicolas Point was one such viewpoint. To put it simply, my mouth fell into an even greater gaping expression and I may have drooled a little. I took a picture… but nothing was as memorable as overlooking the city and looking across at the red Alhambra standing majestically over the whole land only having the whole scene dwarfed by the snowcapped Sierra Nevada mountains that stood behind it.

This was definitely my favorite city in Europe. The city attracted many hippies and attractive young people. There had to be at least one human for every dog, and yes that is how I meant to say it. Dogs ran freely next to their human companions and played together between groups of barefoot hippies who were generally gathered around someone with an instrument or a soothing singing voice.

The Alhambra was another story… I could write a whole entry on this place alone, however I won’t. I will just say that I took many photos (went through two sets of batteries…), gained a completely new appreciation for Moorish architecture and Muslim art, and gained an understanding of the Muslim world—which brings me to another point. One of the greatest benefits of touring Andalucía, is that I got a great taste of multiple cultures. This part of the country was once ruled by the Moors and they certainly left behind a lingering taste of their vast empire, the Alhambra being the biggest (this fortified city used to be the capital of their empire in Spain). Carrie and spent all day exploring and appreciating the palaces and Alcazar (Moorish fort), the gardens and General Life Gardens. It was like a Disney Land of culture and history—fun for any nerd who loves this kind of stuff like me.

Before we knew it, we were on our way to Seville.