South-West Europe

My next adventure took me on the highways of Portugaul, down the coast road of Southern Spain and onwards to a meeting with British soil and monkeys!

The Swede, a crazy guy Alistair had met in a hostel adjacent to the Rising Cock drove, I sat in the frunt and Alistair and the serf boards were in the back. The Swede was an interesting character; a serf bum like Alistair, young and a laugh. He had a gentle personality with a slightly wild persona! We thought he was hilarious!

The long ride to Cadiz was uneventful, I took pictures of the scenery, including a large road bridge spanning the tarmac expanse. I carried a cheap disposable camera and clicked at anything I and the boys thought interesting. I used my eye line to get a general strait angle and just press the button. I often get cloud pictures and my photography is entertaining! I find it fun. Ocasionally, with the help of friends or other travellers, I manage to get a good image. I also use sound as a direction guide. I enjoyed the journey, feeling the vehicle’s excelleration, plus the twists and turns down the open road from Portugaul to Spain. Alistair sat in the back and preceeded to nit my Beny – he liked nitting! Alistair’s plan was to nit benies for people and cell them, but he usually ended up liking the person he was nitting fore, and gave them away! I just took the piss out of him and we had a laugh. It was certainly a good talking point.

Our journey to Cadiz would have been considerably shorter if it had not been for the large national park between Seville and the southern end of Spain. Once around this inconvenience of green splender, it was an easy drive to our destination.

Once in Cadiz, after a six hour journey in the heat and dust of European highways, we found the hostel, checked in and went in search of the town’s centre. Alistair and I had a quick wander, found a fountain, several old buildings and the centre preparing for the annual carnevall. We had a drink in an street cafe and wandered back to the hostel. The backpackers was a lively affair with a good atmosphere. There was a log fire going and many people mingling about. The Swede was engrossed in conversation with several yung ladies. Someone had cooked and Alistair and I helpped ourselves. A typical hostel setting, where everyone shares and becomes friends.

The next day the three of us headed down to the beach, but finding no serf and a hot sun, we sat on the sand and relaxed before taking off on the road again. The boys agreed to drop me at the boarder with Gibraltar while they continued to Malaga to return the rental car. They were also heading to Morocco like myself, but to a different region. We had trouble finding the Gibraltar boarder as it was not really sign posted and was hidden from view by a large round-about. It took a good five hours drive from Cadiz. Once at the boarder, Alistair walked me to the custem gate and We hugged before I passed through and re-entered British soil.

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