Morning in Southern Spain and, as we all know, that means cafe' y tostada. Today I jumped off the high-dive, going for the 'red butter.' Not butter at all, this toast spread is made from special pig fat, peppers, and some other savory stuff. I am experiencing two distinct sensations whilst I am eating this spread. The first is that this is really unusual, tasty, and filling. The second is that this pig-lard concoction cannot possibly be good for anyone. But I eat it anyway.
The sun is shining and we have a whole morning for walkabout. The afternoon means a bus ride further down the coast, but our bags are packed and stashed at the hotel desk. It is time to explore some more.
We stopped for a second coffee near the busy mercado. The good Spanish shoppers were out in droves, picking up fresh fish, fruit and veggies.
Orange shrimp, red shrimp, white shrimp, we got 'em.
Castillo San Sebastián
It was the perfect morning for expoloring. The sky was unbelievably blue, and the wind had mellowed to a gentle breeze. It was time to walk the causeway to Castillo San Sebastián. The surf had been too high on the previous day, but this morning the tide was out and the reefs and shoals waiting to be climbed over.
The wide Atlantic Ocean, from whence the Pirates would appear.
The surf pounds the causeway and the surf often wins. This was where we were supposed to turn back. I kept going.
The Castillo at low tide.
Lots of rocks and tide pools to fall off of or in to.
Slippery walking, but worth it.
My One, safely atop the causeway and not at all inclined to climb down.
We had a last walk through the narrow streets, soaking up as much of Cadiz as possible. I will miss this town.
A friendly public service announcement from the local folks. I love me some solid anti-fascist Graffitti.
If you can't do your bit to smash fascism, I suppose you could make up for it by eating a few sweet little penitentes. I think they look like a cross between South Park characters and Smurfs. I don't know how many one has to eat to get absolution, but it is a sweet indulgence. (Bad Pun, Bad! Bad! Down Boy, Heel!)
The time came for shouldering the backpacks. We trudged the edge of the old city until we emerged into the modern and busy Cadiz. Past the train station, we found our bus stop. All was well. A scant hour, and seven Euro later, we were hiking through the streets of Barbate. Barbate is a funny little beach town that is popular with Spanish tourists. The town has a great beach right off of the promenade. This is the shoulder season, and one of the coldest springs the Spanish can remember. Cold or not, there will be hordes of tourists here for Easter Week. We are fleeing just ahead of the rush. Right now, Barbate is quiet and mostly empty, with busy residents sweeping sand and painting buildings. The tourists (and money) are not far behind.
The view from our balcony. Most of the vacation apartments are still empty.
Shadows getting long on the promenade. We are going to take three days and do some serious hiding out. Barbate seems to be the right place to do it. Walks, food, long sits on the balcony, that's what is on the agenda. I love a beach town in the off season. There is a certain something, an ambience, like the ghosts of summers past.
From Barbate, Spain, it's time to say Ciao for Now! Remember to travel well and travel often.
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