The beach in Tarifa stretches across the south coast of Spain. Only the Mediterranean separates the continents of Africa and Europe. On the beach at the edge of Europe the ocean tickles the white sand which is tossed around by the gusts which make Tarifa ideal for kitesurfing but less desirable for sunbathing.We bussed from Malaga and planned to stay in Tarifa for one night before we took the ferry to Morocco, Africa.
On our first night we spent time with our two German roomies, and spent just 3 Euro each on tasty cocktails served by even tastier Spanish bartenders at Aloha Bar. One of the Germans had been living in Peru, where apparently they eat guinea pig. I found that odd.The nightlife was super local, tunes were decent, and everyone was open and friendly. The vibes went from mellow to hectic as we hit the clubs and had numerous dance battles with old men. I think one of them had taken pingas – I’ve never seen so much energy from a man of his age.The wind was strong enough to close the port and cancel our ferry meaning we were “stranded” in Tarifa for the next three days.
We shared a room and nothing but absolute banter with three lasses Danielle, Molly, Bronwyn and two lads Nick and Tom – all from England. Gelling so well with these five Brits only heightened my excitement about living in the UK in September. It was also nice to click with some English speakers after having spent the past week in Spain and not understanding about 90% of what was being said.
With the Tarifa squad we went to the beach, out for cocktails, dinner, dancing, swimming, and chilled on the rooftop terrace with snacks and sangria. It was extremely stressful.
Highlights of Tarifa include: a random drunk guy trying to pash Ashleigh’s nose in the club; old men buying us drinks after flirting in broken Espanol; Nick’s revelation during dinner that he once had a penis piercing; discovering peanut butter and chocolate Magnums; the waiter giving us free chocolate tequila shots; watching an old man using his sweater as a skipping rope during a dance battle; and when the bouncer tried to get us to pay 20 Euro to enter the club so we just played dumb and pretended we couldn’t understand English or Spanish, so he eventually gave up on us and just let us in for free.On day four, the sea was finally calm so we took the 35-minute ferry trip from Tarifa to Morocco with Tom, leaving behind a different country, continent, language, and currency.