So we browse the possibilities; the Esteponas and San Roques, the Sotograndes and La Lineas. We dismiss them out of hand as too “English”, or “touristy”, or “developed”. That’s my fault.
Just when we think there isn’t anywhere that can live up to our expectations, we chance upon a small town tucked away from all of the above, at the furthest tip of Spain. Next stop Africa; it’s a place renowned for having the highest suicide rate in the country and year round winds so strong, so unrelenting in their incessant cruelty that many, apparently, have been driven quite literally to despair.
Tarifa it is then.
The wind has made the town a magnet for kite surfers and extreme water sport enthusiasts, so there will be much for me to studiously avoid. This will be our stab.
The site may occasionally feature information that is useful (no guarantees) as well as stories and photography from the town of Tarifa. It may also, from time to time, be funny. No guarantees there either.
About me: I’m a writer and a photographer, as well as a teacher of English. I wasn’t any of these things till about a year ago when it finally dawned on me that I was, above all else, a malcontent, and that I’d better do something about it.
Dawned on us, I should say. You’ll be hearing a lot about K.
Her real name? None of your business.
A year on and I no longer classify myself as disillusioned, despite the poverty. So that’s progress, I suppose.
We take our next steps in Spain. A country with which I have a tenuous connection, having been taken there as a child for an extended stay. It was my parents’ stab at a new life that didn’t work out. We left before a year had passed, but good memories stick and I have found myself back there in recent years with K, falling for it again and she with me. Her too, I mean. I mean, she as well fell for it, also.
Practicalities. The adventure must unfold within the confines of commutability to Gibraltar. That’s K’s fault.
El Pan The other day, I had a slice of bread and butter. It was very nice. Quite a week! It was an especially nice slice of bread and butter because K made the bread. That?s right: Casa Alotofwind has acquired bread capabilities. A major breakthrough, and not for want of trying – we?ve both been at [... Fri, 06 Dec 2013 09:28:42
El Contenido Writing is a question of motive, reading the same. It’s important to know why you’re doing it. I can tell you why I write: it?s because I love the world as much as I hate it. Because I know it?s all I?ve got. Because a place can fill me up till I can?t breathe any […]... Thu, 28 Nov 2013 08:23:30
Las Huellas Up in the scrub of the bird sanctuary, the little wooden bridge has been listing for a couple of years and now wobbles, worryingly, over a whorl of fish in the river below it ? a great tumult of watery life, the odd flash of silver belly glints in the writhing green murk. Out over […]... Fri, 22 Nov 2013 07:50:16
Cádiz Cádiz at night is the 18th century through a film noir looking glass. At every intersection in the old town the antique street lamps line up in all four directions, their light rising to illuminate the upper floors of the terraced town houses. Oddly uniform facades of cluttered little ornamental bal... Thu, 14 Nov 2013 11:25:35
El Nabo ?No puedo vestirme bien,? I complain to L, who employs me. She laughs. In Tarifa the year has made its mind up: it’s autumn now, the mornings fresh and dim despite the clock change, the evenings dark and every few days or so what I now, after a few years of Andalusian acclimatising, call cold.... Fri, 08 Nov 2013 10:21:48