With my eyes closed, “the day after”, I still see the blast of friendly light from the Atlantic when we approach the beach of Tarifa: the ocean shines like liquefied steel, the wind blows endlessly for the exhilarating joy of dozens of surfers riding the waves like scooters and looking with (I assume) deep envy at the centaurs zipping by, pulled by their kites.
The shore is barren, no sign of sunbeds and of the usual paraphernalia of facilities catering the lobsterized skins of the north European pensioners flocking the Mediterranean coast nearby like tired migrating birds.
The shore is barren, no sign of sunbeds and of the usual paraphernalia of facilities catering the lobsterized skins of the north European pensioners flocking the Mediterranean coast nearby like tired migrating birds.
As soon as I mentioned the name of this southernmost corner of Europe, an old friend replied “ah, Tarifa, our youthful myth… is it true that every hour a ship loaded with “smoke” arrives from Morocco”? Well, actually the elegant and quite futuristic ferries arrive at regular intervals and they smoke a bit, but most probably the cultural reference of at least 2 generations of a certain alternative Italian sub-culture does not lie in pistons or propellers: maybe it is just a coincidence, but while strolling on the endless empty beach we stumbled across a small plastic envelope containing a piece of “surfer´s bud ”, which we politely left in the sand.
And judging by the number of Italian pizzerias and restaurants in the maze of alleys of the city center, I am sure that many a visitor decided to spend their post-adolescence years in this sunny Riviera. We enter “BarAonda”, a friendly-looking bar just off the shabby remain of a bunker – fort and we even the taps of the day are suspiciously Italian “parmigiana de berenjena” (aubergine parmigiana style) and “carpaccio”, and we indulge in a few Alhambra beers which we judge to be quite stronger than the omnipresent Cruzcampo.
There are plenty of ways to spot tourists from locals, like the single eyebrow of Spanish men and the “too many colors” of their ladies´ clothes, however the funniest is their look of dismay and confusion while looking for a place, any place, to eat at the normal non-Spanish hours.
They frenetically check their watches and stare at the closed shutters of the many restaurants laying elbow to elbow, covered inviting seafood menus and piles of empty chairs, and think “what the hack, it is 1 pm and there is no chance for lunch? Not yet, or not any more?” Understanding the concept of “siesta” sounds easy to say, but a few times we passed in front of a restaurant packed with people having lunch at 5 pm, then (maybe) opening for dinner from 10 pm or not opening at all, trying to get a beer in the afternoon when all the bars close down like in an improvised profane Ramadan.
There are plenty of ways to spot tourists from locals, like the single eyebrow of Spanish men and the “too many colors” of their ladies´ clothes, however the funniest is their look of dismay and confusion while looking for a place, any place, to eat at the normal non-Spanish hours.
They frenetically check their watches and stare at the closed shutters of the many restaurants laying elbow to elbow, covered inviting seafood menus and piles of empty chairs, and think “what the hack, it is 1 pm and there is no chance for lunch? Not yet, or not any more?” Understanding the concept of “siesta” sounds easy to say, but a few times we passed in front of a restaurant packed with people having lunch at 5 pm, then (maybe) opening for dinner from 10 pm or not opening at all, trying to get a beer in the afternoon when all the bars close down like in an improvised profane Ramadan.
 |  |
The choice of the tapas bar is as usual dictated by the vibe of the place, and “La Antigua” turns out to be a cosy spot for filled jalapenos (deep fried, as everywhere, it defies my understanding the stubborn habit of getting some fresh and tasty ingredients, and drown them in burning oil), “twister de langostinos” (a shrimp roll looking like a Nosferatus´ finger) and some delicious mini-choritos served swimming in orange honey.
We migrate to the liveliest pub in town, “Soul Café” (which will become our favourite hang out for the Friday nights live gigs), where everyone spends a noisy and alcohol-fuelled night in this ancient Moorish court with live music and dj sets. Time to crash in the bed, still with the blaze of the ocean under my eyelids.
We migrate to the liveliest pub in town, “Soul Café” (which will become our favourite hang out for the Friday nights live gigs), where everyone spends a noisy and alcohol-fuelled night in this ancient Moorish court with live music and dj sets. Time to crash in the bed, still with the blaze of the ocean under my eyelids.
 |  |
 |  |
The first food we see in the morning in Tarifa are baskets full of super-fresh sea urchins sold at street corners, but it´s a bit too early for an orange spoonful. We prefer a local bakery already showing clear, sweet signs of vicinity with Morocco in the sheer amount of honey and almonds used for the colourful cookies.
For a light and tasty lunch, just pick up a lively bar outside of the Moorish city walls, where prices are even more affordable and the mood is totally local. Our favourite by (very) far is “El Tapeo”, which every day offers a different selection of 10 tapas including excellent octopus salad , magnificent grilled squids, green peppers filled with tortillas, crunchy breaded fish fillets and more delights, with the best topping: a very friendly service and lively atmosphere.
Only locals fills the noisy room and the street tables of this perfect late lunch spot where we regularly eat for less than 5 € each including 2 beers and 3 delicious tapas. So far, among the best food we had in Spain.
For a light and tasty lunch, just pick up a lively bar outside of the Moorish city walls, where prices are even more affordable and the mood is totally local. Our favourite by (very) far is “El Tapeo”, which every day offers a different selection of 10 tapas including excellent octopus salad , magnificent grilled squids, green peppers filled with tortillas, crunchy breaded fish fillets and more delights, with the best topping: a very friendly service and lively atmosphere.
Only locals fills the noisy room and the street tables of this perfect late lunch spot where we regularly eat for less than 5 € each including 2 beers and 3 delicious tapas. So far, among the best food we had in Spain.
 |  |
 |  |
It is beautiful to see how different generations and social classes melt in these bars, old ladies sipping a white wine elbow to elbow with wannabe hipsters and surfers while overfed children roam around chased by overfed mamas and happy-looking dogs.
Later on, you can soak the afternoon sun and listen to some good music in the courtyard of “El Murciano”, head for a stroll or some scenic jogging along the wooden beach path and relax in “Café del Mar” to watch the world go by, play with sparrows and listen to quality chill-out music. Just a warning: after the second “caña” of Cruz Campo, San Miguel or Estrella Galicia beer, you won´t leave your chair or couch for any reason in the world.
Later on, you can soak the afternoon sun and listen to some good music in the courtyard of “El Murciano”, head for a stroll or some scenic jogging along the wooden beach path and relax in “Café del Mar” to watch the world go by, play with sparrows and listen to quality chill-out music. Just a warning: after the second “caña” of Cruz Campo, San Miguel or Estrella Galicia beer, you won´t leave your chair or couch for any reason in the world.
RSS Feed
