This travel story has been sitting on my desktop for about a year and a half. I started writing it after a two month trip through Spain and Morocco which I did in the summer of 2004. It was a great trip. I don’t see myself finishing this travelogue anytime soon, so I’ve just decided to place it online on this blog as it is right now: unfinished, lacking many great experiences, and not conveying the message and atmosphere as I had in mind it would.
For accompanying photos, see: My Summer in Spain & Morocco - A photo impression
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The bus ride from The Netherlands to Spain was a bad decision. For a ridiculous hundred Euros I got to sit on a bus for 21 hours without getting much sleep. But as I arrived in San Sebastian in the early morning and saw the green sunset while sitting on its wonderful beach with an amazing view on the bay and the surrounding hills, the bus ride was totally worth it. That was the first thing I really saw on my journey, and made a great start.
San Sebastian
I’d been warned about the unavailability of places to sleep in the summer in Spain, but I didn’t think much of that was true. Luckily my assumption turned out to be right. During my entire trip I always found a decent place to get some night’s rest without any up-front reservations. Same for San Sebastian. Although the cheaper pensions and hostels in the old city centre were full, the official HI youth hostel still had plenty of room. Its location was at the other end of the town though, a good 20 minute walk. That hostel ‘Albergue La Sirena’ turned out to be a lot of fun. Lots of Australians stayed there, drinking, smoking and partying their way through Europe. Beer, and every other alcoholic drink, was remarkably cheap in the Spanish supermarkets, and that’s how I started my trip. Partying, lying on the beach - getting burnt to a crisp in the process - and sleeping only a few hours a night, complemented by the typically Spanish and o so necessary siesta of course. The few days I stayed in that little town I had a blast, loved the city, the weather, and the people. Really wanted to stay longer, but the idea was to head south and make it to Morocco. I’m sure I’ll make it back there one day.
Burgos
As promising as the place seemed in my Lonely Planet of Spain, all Burgos had to offer was a huge cathedral, herds of tourist families, and no place to sleep. It was hate at first sight and I took the first bus out. Next destination: Madrid!
Madrid
Backpacking is great exercise. To get to the city centre from the northern bus station (Madrid has eight!), I figured out my route for the subway system. One metro line turned out to be shut down, so I had to walk quite a big distance. Eventually I arrived at a hostel covered in sweat and out of breath - yes, it’s extremely hot in Madrid in the summer! - only to be sent on my way to another hostel again. It takes a few weeks to get acclimatized I suppose.
Madrid has amazing stuff to offer. Everything is absolutely huge.
Sevilla
Now did I say Madrid was hot? Seville was worse. The “coldest” it would get at night was 30 degrees Celsius.
Cadiz
Then in Cadiz the chillest little hostel I came across where we slept on the roof for only 9 euros a night, and the nights were warm like a blanket, and you had to stumble over everyone who was already sleeping to get to your own mattress only to be woken by the scorching sun at 9 in the morning. Drinking cheap beer and wine and sangria in the evenings with the other travellers and smoking Fortuna and the excellent Moroccan hash, while listening to the sweetest guitar sound I had ever heard because when you go travelling, there is always a guitar player around, who know the best songs ever. Good times, good times.
The boat to Tangier was filled with Moroccans returning to their country of origin. The wind just blew and blew the most comfortable air and I stood on the top deck enjoying the sun and the tiny drops of salty sea water falling on my skin, watching the foaming and frothing of the white-blue sea and the Moroccan mountains growing larger and larger every minute. Feeling grand and excited, as I was about to yet again - after 3 years - set foot on the African continent and enter a completely different country.
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Tangier
Tangier, the portal to the African continent, the city of chaos, hash and tourist scams. An awful first impression of Morocco. Yet, in the few days I stayed there I dug their little coffee houses filled with smoke and the smell of mint tea and coffee, with all the old jobless Arabs puffing on their long hasheesh pipes until they entered another reality which I can only imagine was about living in a world where there was no trouble, just peace, tranquillity and happiness. Their tea being only a few Dirham, I felt very welcome and kinglike. The locals truly welcomed strangers with open arms.
Chefchaouen was a little piece of paradise compared to Tangier. We spent our time in the most relaxed hotel. For a room they charged only 5 euro a night and with the food being even cheaper. Those tiny little set-upon-a-hill blue-and-white-painted streets and stairways, I felt completely relaxed an no need of moving on for now. I stayed there for three nights.
Yeah, Morocco really lives. Streets are always filled with all sorts of people, lots of shops, markets, people sitting in the street trying to sell their herbs or vegetables or sunglasses. And even at night it never ever grows quiet. No matter what time it is, there is always the murmur of people peacefully chatting in the streets or coffee houses in their incomprehensible language. La Shukran is the only thing I learnt, which means ‘no thanks’ and you need those words a lot when travelling in Morocco, as everybody wants to sell you their clothes, rugs, drinks, city tours, food and drugs. Worth a visit on another journey.
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Amsterdam
Being back in my own country now, constantly busy with university and work, I look out the window and see the dreary autumn of this country - clouds, rain, wind, cold. I long for the heat of the south. I can’t wait to hit the road again.
