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.
Fingers crossed.
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.
Las Codornices I should be running down by the water this morning, or at least walking faster, but I just have to slow down to look around. Everything is exceptional today – a great mixed sky like an oil painting, the cloud cover overhead breaking up in the east where the sun rises and graduating westward to... Thu, 13 Jun 2013 10:27:12
Los Tabancos We go to Jerez. Our usual hostal: cheap, clean and sparsely furnished. Two high little windows into the alley, a cool-tiled floor, a double door with ornamental balcony that overlooks the inner patio, its railings hung with geraniums, a fan in the corner, a chair. I go for a walk while K sleeps and,... Sun, 02 Jun 2013 13:16:20
Lily I should be typing this in El Puerto de Santa Maria. We were to be there this weekend, celebrating my birthday and joining the last dot on our sherry map. Admittedly it isn’t a very complicated map; the town is the third and final dot on the famous Sherry Triangle, for us. We’ve already ... Mon, 27 May 2013 09:26:42
El Vuelo Somewhere over France a bank of rain cloud, an inverted anvil of grey vapour, rises suddenly and singularly from the otherwise uninterrupted expanse of undulating whiteness below us. It throws a long, blue-grey shadow over the cloud canopy it defies, climbing vertically and coming to an end in a str... Wed, 15 May 2013 08:50:00
Der Turm How exquisite to race along the country roads of Franconia in Spring, the sky finally clear after a dreadfully long winter, the curving, sinking fields around us dappled with wildflower. We have some sublime music on and it exhilarates – a perfect match for the serene scenery, this central Eur... Fri, 10 May 2013 08:44:13
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