Crossing the Straits of Gibralter

Wow, what a difference a mere 15km strip of water makes.

Spain, despite its proximity to Morocco is as different from it as night is to day.
In what was really the blink of an eye (or for myself 30 minutes of severe motion sickness) all the houses changed from dusty red to Mediterrean white and instead of snake charmers you have spontaneous bursts of flamenco song!

Andalucia in the south of Spain really is the most stereotypically and quintessentially Spanish place in Spain (which is probably to say that it is the most Spanish place in the entire world). I love it here, the beautiful seaside towns where you can sit on a castle ruin, eat ice cream and see the coast of Africa (that´s Tarifa, the southernmost point of Europe), see the most beautiful Spanish valley with endless groves of grapes and olive trees from above (that´s Rondo, with it´s incredibly engineered bridge built of ye olde, no not in the 80´s like that Honkie buddah) and finally Seville that´s the most bizarre mix of opposites I will ever know.

The weird diametric oppositions in Seville is exemplified in its key attractions - the cathedral (the biggest in area in the world) and the Reales Alcazares palaces which are in part built by the Moors (so typically Islamic) but you turn a corner and it´s suddenly high Gothic or gorgeous little Spanish orange gardens. Decidedly weird but you really can´t help falling in love with it.

Oh and the best thing about Spain - hot showers, after four days of cold showers in Morocco, a long hot shower was just the ticket.

(And yes, I will put up photos soon mum, I promise, but these old computers don´t support my USB key.)