I am the
first to admit that over the last ten years I have been rather spoilt
with my holiday destinations. I may not have been sun-baking in the
Seychelles or Maldives, or hitting the shops in New York, but what with living
on a Caribbean Island, being only hours away from white sand beaches
in Thailand, New Year in Sydney and honeymooning in the Red Centre,
camping our way across Southern Africa, these all add up to a rather
impressive passport full of stamps and a whole lot of memories. It is
for this reason that for many years I have looked down on
what some of the UK's closest sun spots have had to offer. Although
being blessed with a climate of near constant blue sky and sunshine,
I have long been put off places Spain and Portugal due to
thoughts of them being too 'tame'. At only 3 hours flight from the
UK, I have always visualised it as the place of big noisy
resorts and large family groups with lots of demanding children... a
childless teachering couple's worst nightmare.
In the
last year I have had to temper this view, particularly when it comes
to Spain. Living in Morocco it has become our haven, an opportunity to
return to reality and live a little. Having two Spanish enclaves
tucked away on the northern coast of Morocco has helped us keep our
sanity. Living in Morocco is nice but the social scene is more than somewhat lacking in spark. Five minutes after crossing the border
into Spain and you are surrounded by people enjoying life and setting
the world to rights over a glass of wine or chilled beer in the sun.
While these visits to 'Moroccan Spain' have opened my eyes to many of the wonders the culture has to offer, I have still been unsure as to how reflective this is of Spanish culture as a whole. Are the Spaniards living across the water in Africa trying to be more Spanish just to prove a point? Even the locals there don't consider themselves to be living in Spain, when they go over to the mainland they are travelling to Spain, when you question this logic by pointing out that they are in fact in Spain, they are adamant they are not. Saying that, Spanish spirit is there in spades, flags are flying on every corner and the traditional tapas lifestyle is more evident here than anywhere else I have visited.
Watching the Euros semi final between Spain and Portugal in Ceuta was an unprecedented experience for me. 95% of the customers in the bar we were in had not only the football strip on, but the hats, flags, face-paint and scarves too. Musical instruments were played, a traditional Bota bag was passed round the bar; a goat skin bag filled with strong fermented wine, 50 Euro strips of ham were brought out of pockets and shared amongst friends. At the end of the evening, after the tension of the penalty shoot out had brought the whole place to their feet, we watched the entire bar, in fact most of the city, turn itself inside out with celebration. Anyone would think they had just won the World Cup for the first time. People emptied out into the streets, took to their bikes and cars and circled the city waving their arms in the air, honking horns and trailing flags in their wake. This went on for a few hours afterwards. I wasn't about to tell anyone that it had in fact been quite a boring game, not unlike the one we watched between Spain and Portugal in Cape Town for the World Cup two years ago.
After our
complete immersion into Spanish culture for three days in Ceuta, we
caught the ferry across the Med to Algeciras where we picked up a car
and headed north. Now I am sure that I have made this journey quite a
few times as a child. Obviously I had never paid much
attention. There is little that is 'boring' or 'tame' about the
Andalucian countryside. Yes you may be driving on a busy highway to
avoid cramped coastal towns, but the road winds its way up through
majestic craggy peaks that thrust dramatically up into the blue sky.
Here you have that beautiful combination of mountains, sun and sea, a
combination not too dissimilar to that which we went all that way to
South Africa to see. And while the Med might be dirty and cold, it is
blue enough to make a stunning backdrop when you do get a break in
the stretches of property development.
Sadly,
the Costa Del Sol has been very developed. There are complexes
everywhere and most of the empty space is development waiting to
happen. Saying that, much of it still retains a traditional Spanish
feel. There are pretty whitewashed towns dotted in the folds of the
foothills. Narrow cobbled streets lead to pretty terraces where you
can stop for a beer and snack and enjoy the view. Many of these
little towns have become a little too touristy, but for others life
still goes on same as always.
For our
stay in Spain we had been lucky enough to get an apartment for free
about five kilometres away from Fuengirola. This vastly developed
stretch of coastline is a British home from home. British pubs and
cafés selling meat pies and fish and chips line the seafront. But
even here, if you're willing to look hard enough, it is possible to
find the Spanish bars and local café culture enjoyed by locals and
foreigners alike. For us we spent our days exploring the coast and
inland and eating plates of fried fish and calamari before retreating
to our spacious apartment. We couldn't believe our luck getting
two terraces, one a roof terrace the size of two bedrooms which we
bought a paddling pool for so we could sunbake
without ever having to go down to the pool. From here we had a view
of both mountains and sea. I only went in the pool three times, twice
out of guilt for not using it, and once to sit on the bottom of it in
an aim to shake of the effects of the night before.
To sum it up, after seven days of incredible food, cheap wine, great culture and a whole lot of sun, I am sold, Spain is obviously the place to be.
