Tarifa

The last 3 months haven’t really been a semester.  Rather, a vacation.  Far more time was spent outside the sphere of academia than within it.  Even time in the classroom was far too fun, far too stress-free.  I guess that’s what happens when everything you do is with the people who have become your best friends.

To celebrate the long vacation, our “crew” of 6 boys and 3 girls decided our only goal for the last weekend was to be together.  To ensure togetherness, we found the cheapest Airbnb we could in any town that was not Sevilla.  At first it was skiing in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, then hiking in Grenada, than a beach retreat to Malaga.  Finally, at the ultimate minute, we panicked and ended up in some place called Tarifa.

With no expectations, we took a cheap bus and a weird truck ride to the southern-most point in Spain.  When you look at a map, the tip in Spain that looks like its touching Africa is Tarifa.  Our house was at the tip of that tip.  We accidently ended up spending a weekend in an Ocean front beach house on what used to be a military base, with sheep as neighbors, acres to ourselves, a view of Morocco and consistently 50 mile an hour wind.  No words can come close.  Even the house tour below doesn’t do it justice.

We watched the sun drop over our local lighthouse from the roof and hours later saw the same sun rise above the peaks of Africa’s northernmost mountains.  I got to swim in the Straight of Gibraltar and jump from the roof into our 45 degree pool.  Manolo, the farmer nearby and chauffeur responsible for our safe arrival to this place where cars simply should not be able to go, put it best:  “No one leaves Tarifa”.

Unfortunately, we had to go take finals a couple of days later.  Still, we bring with us piles of memories, everlasting friendships, and a commitment to go back.