Surreal Catalonia

Coming back into Spain from Morocco, we meandered for a few days up the Mediterranean coast. The cold waters of the Atlantic side not only changed in temperature, but the colour went from a deep green to a shimmering sky blue. It’s as if nothing moves below the surface, and the clear waters are more like a lake than a sea. The hot weather crept along with us up the road. We enjoyed basking in the late summer sunshine, swimming in boardshorts and letting the saltwater dry on our skin.

As we drew north we entered Catalonia. The spirit of this small territory is exciting. The people love art, they love partying and are deeply passionate about everything they do. This feeling is encapsulated perfectly in the capital of Barcelona. It’s a fantastic city! 

As with most of Europe, the old meets the new in an intoxicating mix. Everyone rushes and bustles through the metro terminals, up and down cobbled boulevards and in and out of the many churches. There is shopping, food, sightseeing, history and art: A tourist’s wetdream.

There is one church we visited which was particularly inspiring: The Sagrada Familia. What an incredible feat of engineering! 

This is a modern gothic masterpiece of a building, which started construction in 1882 and is not planned to be complete until around 2026. It is saturated with artistic symbolism, which was masterminded by the architect Antoni Gaudi. 

It is like being inside a living being, walking through the halls, seeing its life and watching it still grow. I am often critical of religion, but when something so beautiful is before you, you can’t help but wonder if something that magnificent would be possible without an extra driving force such as a devotion to God. 

The church was certainly Tara’s favourite single church we visited on our trip and right up there for me. It’s a must must must do if you go to Barcelona.

After spending all day exploring each crevice of the building we floated to dinner near La Rambla, the main strip of Barcelona. 

We found a great vegetarian place called Organic. The Paella was among the best we have tasted, and the organic beer was a pleasant fizz to finish the day.

The next morning we picked up the coast trail and crept a bit further north to the birthplace of Salvador Dali, Figueres. There is a wild museum there, which was created by Dali himself and is touted as the largest surrealistic object in the world. 

Gold eggs and bread-rolls cover the façade, and statues sit like sentinals around the building. Inside there are instalments and of course the crazy paintings, which made Dali so famous. 

Without a doubt Dali is our favourite artist. It was a privilege to go to the town where he grew up and inspired his beautiful, yet egotistical mind. I cannot begin to comprehend how someone’s brain could work like his. It would be hard to imagine a common ground where anyone could fathom what went on inside that surreal coconut. 

There is a great quote on one of the walls from him, which read. “Without an audience, without the presence of spectators, these jewels would not fulfil the function for which they came into being. The viewer, then, is the ultimate artist.”

With minds well and truly boggled we once again settled into Snowflake and set course for two countries we never really thought we’d go to. Switzerland and Germany.   

- Tim  

Moroccan Madness

Over the 5 months leading up to arriving in Morocco, many of the European people we had met along the way warned us of the ‘huge culture shock’. However, when we first entered this northern tip of Africa, it was almost like landing back in Bali.

There are many similarities to our Indonesian home. First there was the 2-hour shemozzle on arrival at the port, with endless manual paperwork and Moroccan’s saying they would help for money, (all in 40-degree heat!). Then the suicidal ‘no-rules’ driving, where buses overtake trucks around corners. There are also more taxis than people, thousands of street dogs, endless rubbish and plenty of unfinished houses and roadworks.

Once you get through the initial stage you soon love this beautiful, dry country. The Moroccan landscape is one filled with barren desert and a mountainous backdrop. Each day was filled with clear blue skies and topped with sweltering heat, all tempered by the turquoise ocean. Along the busy roads, where you’re just as likely to pass a horse and cart as a car, there are thousands of roadside fruit, vegetable and craft stalls. They are all fresh and organic at a cheap bartering price.

The language was a big interest to us. Moroccan’s mother tongue is Arabic but most also speak French from the past French occupation. The written word of Arabic called ‘Sanskrit’ is one of the most beautiful looking languages I have seen. We often looked at it together trying to guess what it was saying.

Morocco is widely renowned for its epic surf, but our timing to visit Morocco for a surf road-trip was as good as trying to go snowboarding in Australia during summer! Not only is August traditionally flat with little to no swell but there are 40’C days, and strong onshore winds most afternoons.

Nevertheless, we were lucky to catch a great summer swell and scored what were the best waves on our whole trip so far. There were punchy beach-breaks at Jack Beach and long peeling lefts at La Babine. The water was as cold as the air was warm, plus there were thousands of sea urchins lining the rock entry onto the point at La Babine. Tim spent an hour one night plucking urchin spines from my feet, but it was all worth it! The same night we found out that someone had died at La Babine that day, not a surfer, but a fisherman who was swept off the rocks. And we thought the crowd had gathered to watch Timmy surf!

There is also a flourishing local surf community in Morocco. One night we were camping in the beach carpark when someone tapped on our van. We were worried that we were going to get kicked out, or worse. But it was just a local surfer, making sure we were OK, had scored some waves and eaten a good dinner. He even offered for us to come down and smoke some hash with him the next day if we wanted and use his wireless connection. Pretty funny how so many people tell you to ‘watch out for sneaky Moroccans’, yet all we received was friendly help.

One of the other things, which made the trek in this country a little tougher was that is was the Muslim religious month of fasting, called Ramadan, while we were there. Every restaurant was closed during sunlight hours and the walls echoed prayers from the nearby mosques as many walked past us with prayer mats over their shoulders. We were quite familiar with this Islamic tradition from our time in Indo, but it is even more intense in the Arab world.

Ramadan is a sacred lunar month celebrated each year by Muslims. It marks the auspicious month in which God revealed to first verses of the Koran to the Islamic prophet Mohammad. During this month all Muslims of age refrain from eating, drinking, smoking and sex during daylight hours. The act of fasting is said to redirect the heart away from worldly activities, with its purpose being to cleanse the inner soul and free it from harm. It also teaches Muslims to practice self-discipline, self-control, sacrifice, and empathy for those who are less fortunate; thus encouraging actions of generosity and charity.

However, it also means low blood sugar, nicotine withdrawals, short tempers and extra crazy driving during the day. By sunset everyone is back to their happy selves, sharing a meal with family and friends but it is a strange time for a foreigner.

The additional culture shock that you get when visiting Morocco is one you can only truly experience if you are a woman. The restrictions of the different standards that are set in Islamic countries are hard to get used to having grown up in a liberal, open-minded western country. Dressing covered head to toe and not touching any men in public (even to receive change), was something I had to quickly accept and correspond to while in Morocco. 

One Moroccan we spoke to about it clearly explained it to us. He said that you may wear short shorts or a bikini if you like, but you would be disrespecting our country as a visitor and hurting a lot of people’s feelings in the process. Since Ramadan is such a sacred month, this feeling is multiplied ten-fold. This was enough for me to adhere to the rules as a visitor to their beautiful country.

The joy of travelling to places like Morocco is a catalyst for good conversation. Along our road trip and sunset watching we had so many great conversations. Some highlights were the comparison of the Bible to the Koran, the need for Muslim women to cover in public, and the difference of 1^st world country problems like ‘my internet is running so slow’ or ‘my car needs cleaning’ versus 3^rd world country problem like ‘where do I find medicine for my sick baby?’, ‘where will I find my next meal?’ and ‘my donkey is getting too old to carry fruit to the market’.

I think travelling is a blessing in this way. It challenges our normally sheltered existence and exposes us to what others lives are like worldwide.

As travel became readily available and accessible in the 21^st century, this delivered the pathway for the international business to boom. These days it amazes me that I can fly from Australia to somewhere like Portugal, on the most opposite side of the world, and still expect to see my favourite fashion stores like Zara and find a Starbucks café with fast free WIFI. It all becomes an expectation that we can leave one sheltered life with all materialistic needs and fly close to anywhere on the planet and expect the same as you do in your country.

That is until you are pushed out of your normal boundaries and visit places like South America, India, Indonesia or Morocco. For Tim and I this is the essence of travelling; switching off from the materialistic world we know and throw ourselves head first into the culture and embrace it. Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.

After a crazy week in a crazy country we headed up to Tangier to catch the ferry back to Spain. However, Morocco didn’t let us out of her grip without one final little goodbye. While driving in hectic traffic, on the way back to the port, a man wound down his window and started yelling at us in Arabic at the traffic lights. Tim tried to explain in broken French that we couldn’t understand. The man kept pointing to the lock of the door and then the back of our van. Horns started blearing and the lights went green. We took off again. That's when Tim saw him. A cheeky little Moroccan urchin child was clinging onto the back of Snowflake, while we were going 60km/h around a roundabout. He was trying to break into the back. His head and hand appeared in the rear vision mirror as we swerved and Tim almost crashed in fright. When we got to the next light Tim pulled on the handbrake and jumped out of the van, to boot the kid off the back. He was gone though. We still have no idea where to, whether he fell off at top speed or jumped off as we slowed down is anyone’s guess. Lucky the back was locked all along. All in a normal day’s travel in Africa.

With that one last little reminder that the world is a weird and wonderful place, we slid through customs without trouble, back to the safety net of mainland Europe.

An Unexpected Gem

Portugal welcomed us vegetable fields, dotted with windmills on the edge of long white beaches. Winding through the rows of white homes, the first thing that really impressed us were the amazing glazed artwork tiles that adorn house facades. They are a type of intricate sketch art depicting major historical events through Portugese history. Apparently, they have been a huge part of the culture for over five hundred years, and are called 'Azulejo'. Not only do they serve a decorative purpose but work functionally in some houses by helping regulate the temperature inside! It was a great note to start our experience of this interesting country, which is surrounded entirely by Spain on one side and ocean on the other.

We spent much more time in Portugal than planned. It seems many other traveller have experienced the same thing. There isn’t a huge expectation on Portugal to deliver such joy, so when it does you love it all the more.

The famous Peniche surf break ‘Supertoobos’ was flat when we arrived, so we drove straight to its sister town Ericeira. 

This small Portuguese fishing village is where surf originated in Portugal, so the vibe of the town matches one that is obsessed with the ocean. The people of this town were so friendly and helpful, with most speaking fluent English.  Being a fishing village there was numerous seafood restaurants and it also introduced Tim to ‘Frango’ Portuguese spiced chicken and to quote Tim “the best chocolate mouse in the whole of Europe.”

We set up camp in Ericiera for the longest length of time on our European adventure. This gave Tim a lot of time to write the sequel to his novel Hellbound (if you haven’t already purchased Hellbound click here). Most days were spent surfing the reefs out the front of the camp in the morning and then writing all afternoon. Tim got on a roll and wrote 2/3rds of the sequel in this little surfing town. It was almost like we were at home in Torquay, amongst the sandstone cliffs and cold water waves.

We set up camp in Ericeira for the longest length of time on our European adventure. This gave Tim a lot of time to write the sequel to his novel Hellbound (if you haven’t already purchased Hellbound click here). Most days were spent surfing the reefs out the front of the camp in the morning and then writing all afternoon. Tim got on a roll and wrote 2/3rds of the sequel in this little surfing town. It was almost like we were at home in Torquay, amongst the sandstone cliffs and cold water waves.

Prompted by a close friend’s suggestion we discovered the hidden beauty of small historic town called Sintra. This quaint village is propped in between an imposing mountain range with surrounding green forest only a short drive from Ericeria. It’s strewn with palaces, estates, churches and a castle, which dates back to the Arab occupation of Portugal in the 12^th Century. This history is mixed with charming architecture and beautiful parks and gardens. As a world heritage listed town it didn’t stop at old buildings, but also had modern art and statues amongst the traditional pieces. We loved seeing the new art on old streets.

On our way driving south we were pleased to finally find one of the only cinemas in Europe that was showing English speaking films. After many months of waiting we were able to watch the final Harry Potter movie. This was a big mark for us as it was our first ever date to the movies to watch Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets. Now 10 years later watching the last one together, we are happily married on the trip of a lifetime that we only ever dreamed of achieving. Happiest ever!

Our last stop in Portugal was the capital city of Lisbon (Lisboa). It’s a clean, beautiful 11^th century city with cobbled streets and many statues. Many parts of Lisbon reminded us of Rome and Paris for its history and statues. What makes it all the better is that there are some great surf spots nearby. If you want to visit somewhere with ‘the whole package’ this is for sure the place to be.

After dragging our feet long enough through Portugal, we jumped in The White Badger and peeled down to Tarifa to catch the ferry to Africa. It was time to surf our fifth content, looking to meet an out of season swell in Morocco.