Tariffa

9/7/13
Tariffa.
The lowest point on the map of Europe...we can see Morocco...like the distance to Straddie. Apparently has had the past reputation of having the highest suicide rate in Europe due to the relentless wind. We are in the most gorgeous camping ground....has a real Moroccan feel. Right on the beach. I have already prepared to noose on the tree outside, and may use it if I don't get out of here très soon. The wind really would drive you batty. The van is rocking around like a boat on the water. The place is a haven for those who are inclined to make lemonade when presented with lemons...namely Germans who think it is cool because they can vind surf. The beach is a vind and kite surfers paradise. We call it lame surfing, but we are cynical Woottons.
Tony and I are thinking of taking a 2 day tour (😖 tourists!) of Morocco. The girls would stay here because of their refusal to cover up their bodies. Their loss, but there is NO WAY we are taking them to Morocco in shorts showing bum cheeks and midrif singlets with bra straps hanging out...and no way we can get them to wear anything else.

Tarifa was a charming town...somewhat run down and delapitated which added to the ambience. Tapas bars and Moroccan style bazaars dotted the cobblestone streets, and pottery was the feature product. Terracotta and ceramic items from pots, cooking implements, vases, lights, tiles, crockery...all very beautiful but alas not practical for the suitcase.

We were feeling the Moroccan vibe, and after yet another dish of cheese and olives with a wine, we were in the mood for more exotic fare for dinner. We set about looking for a Moroccan place and were lead up several garden paths due to the usual language barrier and Tony's 'too much information' banter. We wandered around the streets and finally came across a place in a seedier part of town near the water. It was one of those places that is so easy to miss. An unassuming little shop front with a plastic canvas marquis set upas a patio at the front, fluorescent lit and plastic and aluminium tables and chairs. It was the 'tajine' word scribbled on the little blackboard at the entrance that caught my hungry, searching, and by now desperate for Moroccan food eye. 'This is it' I said without hesitating and in we went. We were shown to a table in the corner by the owner who seemed really pleased to see us. Being foreigners, I think we were a bit of a novelty. Not that tourists are few and far between in Tarifa...there are plenty, particularly thrill seeking wind surfers, but I don't think they seek out the out of the way places to eat. Particularly places like this where the food is simple and understated and the alcohol is not a feature. 

I had a feeling this man knew what he was doing, and I didn't feel like agonising over the menu which was, as usual, in Spanish. Tony was about to ask if there was an English menu, and I wasn't in the mood for another cringe and kick under the table. Of course there wasn't a bloody English menu, and what good would it have been when the man didn't speak English anyway? I just said to him to bring out what was good today. Our friendly waiter seemed overjoyed by this request. He bowed and almost skipped to the kitchen, probably thrilled that he could get rid of all the leftovers in the back of the fridge.

We did order a bottle of wine, but the waiter couldn't tell us what it was like...he was Moroccan, and being Muslim, didn't drink. 

The food that followed was one of the most memorable meals of the trip. First course was a platter of selected dishes including pastries filled with chicken that melted in the mouth, fish cooked in Moroccan spices and vegetables. Then came the lamb tagine with vegetable tagine marinated carrots and a spicy meatballs. The cous cous tasted like nothing I have ever had before. I sadly realized that we dont know how to cook it in Australia. This was all washed down with Moroccan mint tea poured from a height, sweet and hot and perfect.

If you are ever in Tafifa, the place was called Marrakech, and it was near the gate to the port.

Tony ventured to ask the man if it was worth heading over to morocco the next day for a squiz...he quickly fetched his wife, a beautiful Moroccan woman with dark hair and light eyes who spoke good English. She told us it was Ramadan at the moment, and it wouldn't be much fun as things were closed during daylight hours.

We also found out later that Tangier is on the list of  the ten most unfriendly cities in the world, so morocco might be best left till we have time to explore the place more thoroughly.