(Thanks for sharing the quote, mom!)
As I mentioned in my last post, we left Barcelona over a week ago and were relieved to arrive in Valencia without an agenda. We wandered aimlessly and leisurely for a few days, then regretfully moved on. We spent a few nights in Granada, where we braved the rain mostly just to walk to a nearby café/local grocer we adored (Al Sur de Granada), and secondarily to spend a couple hours wandering through the Albayzín (historically Moorish neighborhood) and Alhambra (old Moorish fortress).
Pictures of Granada, in and from the Albayzín:
Most of what we experienced of the Alhambra, though, was by sampling the beer named after it.
The rain stopped the day we left, and after a ride to Tarifa bailed on us, we quickly reassessed bus routes. We caught the next bus to Algeciras, then switched immediately to get to Tarifa. As in Valencia, we had no plans and no expectations and were pleasantly surprised upon arrival. We wandered through the white-washed old town and down to the coast. The town is mildly touristy but very low key and relaxing. At the coast, you can look across to Africa (specifically, Morocco) - our next destination and the reason we were in Tarifa to begin with. But more of that later.
If you have ever heard of the westernmost point of Europe, Portugal's Cabo da Roca, you probably know that you can be the last person in Europe to see the sun set if you visit, and you probably have also heard that it is swarming in people wanting to be that last person. We skipped that stop in Portugal as we didn't want to deal with the crowds. In Tarifa, though, we accidentally found out we were on the southernmost point of Europe when we stumbled upon a sign indicating it was so. It was a humbling experience. We stood on a breakwater built less than 50 years ago; to the right was the Atlantic, to the left the Mediterranean, straight ahead the Strait of Gibraltar and across the Strait was Africa. The righthand side of the breakwater was choppy and green-grey-blue, while the left was calm and more of a bright blue or teal. There was a clear division between the two seas with the presence of the breakwater. It was one of the most powerful experiences I have had in my travels.
The next morning, after a breakfast of churros and coffee, we took a quick 35-minute ferry across the Strait and got off in Tangier, Morocco. We experienced a change in time, cities, countries, and continents in just the short time it took the boat to get across. We spent our evening wandering through the medina (Petit Socco, Grand Socco, Kasbah), wandering through twisty streets, ignoring people trying to sell us souvenirs of all kinds, and soaking in the vibrancy of the culture. Everyone speaks Arabic, but much of Tangier's population also speaks French, Spanish, English, and the native Berber language (all to varying degrees). Tangier was a dose of much needed culture shock, to summarize. We spent the next two nights in Chefchaouen, a city 2 hours east of Tangier, in the heart of the Rif mountains. We strolled through the medina again. Chefchaouen's biggest attraction for tourists are the buildings lining the pedestrian streets that make up the windy medina - they are virtually all painted in various shades of blue. Set against the backdrop of the Rif range, it is an astonishingly beautiful town. We drank Moroccan tea (spearmint with a bit of green tea and loads of sugar), wandered through the maze of blue, hiked, and tried a little bit of haggling with local shopowners (primarily in Spanish). Yesterday, we made it back to Tangier and spent a leisurely night in the same hostel we stayed at our first night.
View of Tangier's rooftops from the terrace of the hostel:
This morning we hopped on a ferry and got back to Tarifa just 5 minutes behind schedule. Now, we await arrival in Sevilla and will then go to Lisboa, then back to the other side of the Atlantic.
The last thing I would like to share today is some food for thought that I have also found constructive, courtesy an anonymous graffiti artist in Tarifa:
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