An Enquiring Spaniard - ‘Andalucia, South to the Centre’

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What I predicted would be an easy days journey from Lisbon down to Cadiz on the South coast of Spain instead turned into an arduous two days of travel torture as I was forced to hunt down services that either didn’t run on weekends or in some cases, didn’t run at all. Somehow I found myself on a ferry chugging across the Portuguese border and into Spain. This was the ‘direct route’ that I had presumed existed. The alternative was a long train haul across to Seville then connect with a south bound train to Cadiz. Instead I found myself in a small Spanish town arguing with a bus driver who told me in plain English that he spoke no English. Por favor Senor prick! Eventually at 10:00 o’clock at night and only half way to Cadiz I ran out of options and was forced to search for a hotel for the night in a non-descript city that had no hotels. I had to admit defeat the following morning when the only clear route to Cadiz went via Seville, which seemed to me a damned inconvenience.

I had arranged to say at ‘Casa de la Luz’, coincidently another “Help Exchange” advertiser that had no work but offered accommodation for 15 Euro p/night. It was reportedly close to Andalucia’s most famous wave at El Palmar which suited me fine. I eventually found Casa e la Luz in the middle of nowhere, which was o.k. by me. I found El Palmar a further 8km bike ride away down an unforgiving dirt road. Thankfully the wind had blown out any chance of a wave as I didn’t really fancy the return trip with surfboard slung across my shoulder, especially when I found myself pushing the bike with newly punctured tire the final 3 km home. I was surprised to find the water maybe only a touch warmer than Portugal.

When David my host picked me up from the bus station he mentioned he had only one other guest, a Canadian girl. This immediately conjured up images of the Canadian girls I had met in Costa Rica who had “rescued” a stray dog and dragged her all the way back to Canada with them. Marie Emmanuelle however was quite different. For a start she was from Quebec, 6’2” tall, obviously had native blood and was quite beautiful. We got chatting and her story bore many similarities to my own, although she was much younger. One thing led to another and she told me she was a psychologist. I started feeling a little uncomfortable, a very beautiful 6’2” psychologist from Quebec. I worried she might start reading my mind. I gave her the benefit of any misgivings I was experiencing at that point and probed a little further. She told me rather too matter of factly that she did her degree in sexology. Of course this was met with a mix of fascination and trepidation. Then she says “do you want to know what I did my thesis in? “Ahhh…..yeah, I replied” “The relationship between pedophilia and narcissm” she announced. I beat a hasty retreat back to my room, locking the door for good measure.

I was meeting up with Shane and Corinne the following day who were driving down from Jerez de la Fronterra. We had planned to spend a few days together before both flying out from Madrid to our respective destinations. Me back to Germany and Shane & Corinne back home to NZ. The morning we were due to meet was blessed with rain and was decidedly cooler than it had been. This was a little unusual for the area and the first real rain I had seen in 4 weeks. I met them at the tourist office in Vejer and we drove the few km’s back to collect my luggage. The rain continued as I packed my gear into the rental and stacked the surfboard on the roof, then miraculously stopped the moment I had finished. We decided on a loose plan to hug the coastal route around the Costa de la Sol with a detour up to Granada. Shane had lost his wallet just prior to leaving New Zealand and had no drivers licence so Corinne took the helm and drove the majority of the ensuing 1500 odd km journey in a remarkable display of dexterity and endurance, especially given her unfamiliarity wit the right hand side of the road. With the number of tourists you might expect to visit Spain in the high season, finding a hotel sometimes proved more difficult than expected. The Spanish also live a very different lifestyle than we are used to. I guess that accounts for the common sight of empty streets in seemingly populous areas but every available parking space full. They arise late, rarely sit down to a proper breakfast, work a few hours, eat once more, sleep a few hours after mid-day, then eat again before working through o 9:00 or 10:00pm. They will then have their main evening meal. One day we drove almost the entire length of the Sierra Nevada from Granada to Peurto Mazzaron on the coast. It was a nice sized town and in hindsight it would have been nice to stay a little longer and explore the area but we pushed on up to Valencia and scoured the surrounding area in search of a hotel, finally finding one just north of the city in a little place called Puig. There must have been a special occasion happening in Valencia as accommodation was tight to say the least. This being the case, we opted to book two nights in Madrid, more so that we could simply put a halt to all the driving more than anything else. This would give us a couple of days to do sample the local scene. The first night we thought we’d try out the Tapas Bars and took the Metro into the city. Navigating our way to where the restaurants and bars were located, we gave the buy a few drinks and wait for the tapas to arrive gig a go. There was no great success here so in the end we found a restaurant and settled in for dinner. The following day we took a walk around town. To be honest there weren’t a lot of sights on offer and like any big city it was a busy place. I had the feeling we were all ready to move on and so the following morning we bid our farewells at Madrid Airport as Shane & Corinne left en route back to Auckland via Heathrow while I boarded a plane for Munich with the news that winter had arrived in Germany already.

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