November 31- December 1, 2009- Tarifa, ES- Melting Pot Backpackers
A true surfers town, kite surfing to be exact, Tarifa is inundated in the Summer- a real tourist trap. There's no question, the wind could pick up Dorthy's House, but the sound of the waves and the color of the water make it pure heaven to my city-saturated eyes. It's the so-called Hawaii of Spain, maybe a bit of an oversell for anyone that's set foot in Hawaii, but all the same a nice slice of the tropics. I had come at just the right time- the quiet time. Everything was closing down for the Winter, the backpackers was open for its last night of the season (to re-open in February). Its true, I wasn't able to get in any bikini beach time, but that's never been my thing anyways, a nice stroll along the shore was sufficient.
I checked into the backpackers and headed out to wander, first stop, the view to the other side. As the southern most point of Spain, the view to Morocco is clear across the Mediterranean. I am looking at another continent- amazing. Naturally, my first instinct would have been to take the ferry across and set foot in Africa, but too many persons had told me that you have to get further into Morocco to get the full experience- its like visiting Tijuana and believing you've got a true taste of Mexico- border towns rarely have exhibit pure culture, its usually a hybrid of two.
So there I stayed, content to gaze across, content in Tarifa, a place full of dual personality. Sandwiched between two oceans (the Atlantic and the Mediterranean), supporting two types of people the surf shop happy Billabong tourists and the chill side street quarters of lifelong residents, the sun that brings the warmest weather I've experienced yet (only 2 layers!) and the cool night temperatures exacerbated by the strong ocean breeze.
It was the ideal place to relax, I was mesmerized by the kite surfers riding the wind into the waves (now a definite addition to my bucket list) and lulled by the sound of the waves crashing against the shore as I closed by eyes to inhale the salty air. The smell of the sea washed me with tranquility.
I walked down the beach towards the hostel, and saw a castle on the hill in the distance. Upon approaching it was obviously gated off and run down, but a split in the fence told me that others had made the pilgrimage and curiosity had me wondering what lied above. The building was clearly abandoned and nothing short of eerie. I climbed the hill and ascended the steps, wondering if it was truly an old structure, or if it had been made to look that way. Ignoring the "Do Not Enter" sign, I climbed more steps, entering a room with a fax machine, shoes, food and other miscellaneous items. Packages opened and things strewn about, it looked as though someone had just suddenly abandoned it or had suddenly been evicted- one could never know if this had been a legitimate business or not. I decided to continue up to the view spot rather than linger in my imagination.
A spectacular view from every angle, I could see the entire town and the oceans on either side. It felt like I had stumbled upon a true scenic discovery, something not everyone has the chance to see- a true blessing for me on that day. I could have stayed longer just looking out, but noticed the neighbors below, the Police station at that, and wondered if them spying me above might get me in to more trouble than I'd wish for while traveling.
A carb-a-holic at heart, I grabbed the breakfast of champions to eat for my next few meals and headed back to the hostel for the night. I befriended a group of Australian girls, and made small talk over sangria. I discovered just why I was glad to be traveling alone for the time- they all wanted to do something different the next day. We told tales of our journeys around the world and they all had interesting stories to swap. One had done a solo trip to South America and assured me it was safe- giving me hope to one day climb to the top of Manchu Piccu, as I had always dreamed to do. This place was comfortable- I had a good nights sleep.
I woke up the next day, taking much the same route as the previous day- there wasn't much to see and that was good- putting my foot in the sand was the most important priority of the day. The quiet residential streets, the surf-branded commercial district, the wind-swept sandy beaches. The day was postcard perfect. I took my leisurely stroll along the beach and sat to eat and write for a bit while looking out on the ocean. I felt like I could have handled this climate for a couple more days.
Having left my things at the hostel for what I thought was safe-keeping, I returned to collect my bag and prepare for yet another bus ride. I was in fine spirits, nothing could burst the bubble, until I got to where I had laid out my towel to dry and found that it was gone. I asked a fellow hosteller sitting outside if he had seen my towel- he informs me that one of the group of three girls had accidentally taken it. Having not at all the clepto impression of them from the night before, I was confused and definitely taken aback, but fairly certain that a towel would not be too hard to replace.
I went upstairs to check my email before leaving. The same person followed me up, talking all the way about his money woes- a paycheck that had not yet gone through. It dawned on me that he had not been that chatty the night before when he fell asleep at 7pm without saying a word to anyone. He told me that he had lost his battery charger for his camera, worried that his battery would die soon, he asked to have a look at mine. I pulled it out and returned to the Internet, not really giving it a second thought.
It was not until I got on the bus that I realized he had never given my charger back and now I was stuck- my battery was low. I thought about the towel, I thought about the charger- I concluded that my perpetrator was one in the same. Maybe not the type of person to make friends with the people that he stole from.
A sick feeling hit me, I always hate instances that make one lose their faith in the goodness of humanity. He knew I had very little with me. How could he steal from me? How did he sleep at night? I was too stubborn to let the actions of another person damper my travels that day - I tried not to dwell on it and focused on finding a solution. I felt bad for him really, he could not be happy living such a life. I am lucky to have the opportunity I have, to have my family and friends back home supporting me- maybe he is alone in the world.
The drive along the coast from Tarifa to Malaga was nothing short of magical. The sun doing a reflective dance across the water, highlighting the posh, white beachside villas flooding the green hills. I smiled knowing I would soon be with a new found friend in Malaga, Suzanne, and tomorrow would be another day in Spain.
Cheers,
Emily