Back in Spain

So I ditch the tour group in Algeciras, say goodbye to Christine, and jump the last bus of the night to Tarifa. (Algeciras is way to sketchy for me to spend the night here alone).

It's a beautiful bus ride as wind turbines (eco-nerd alert!) appear on the hills, set against a Spanish sunset. You can't see them, the bus was moving too fast, but I promise they are there

From Tarifa to Seville

And with good reason. I'm headed to the windiest spot in all of Europe, the kite surfing capital of the world.

I get there late at night and crash in this great hostel right on the main strip. I'm exhausted from the 5 am wake up call that morning and traveling all day, but my bunk mates talk me into going out on the town. They're all there for kite surfing. We share a couple beers and when I'm out of money and about to fall asleep in my next drink, I politely say good night and try to find my way back. We're in the old town of Tarifa and the streets seem to just loop around one another, but I eventually make it back and I'm asleep before my head hits the pillow.