I got off the bus in Tarifa and walked down main street. In Germany, every second shop is a bakery, in Tarifa, it's a surf shop. I knew from that moment I was going to love it here. Tarifa is like a broken in pair of running shoes. They look a little run down, they've got tons of miles on them, there may be newer, cooler, more popular shoes out there, but they're you're favorite.

I checked into my hostel, the Melting Pot, and it felt cozy and at home from the start. It's nice and small, and the guys running the place are the most genuine, nicest people, I've met so far.

I haven't been backpacking since March, and sometimes you forget how much you love something. People just associate seeing places with traveling, but I love meeting the people.

Meeting people in hostels may seem strange at first, but I love it. You meet the coolest person, you think you could really get to know them well, maybe even be good friends with them, and the next day, they're gone. At first I didn't like it, now I'm happy for them. They're moving on to new places, meeting new people, and you will be too.

Bec' (Australia), Andy (England), Karen (Munich), Martin (Amsterdam) and his good friend Fijtge (Amsterdam) were some people I met this week that I'll never forget.

Bec was my roommate, Andy and Karen were in my Kitesurfing group, and Martin and Fijtge were our kiteboarding neighbors. Every night after 4 hours of kitesurfing we'd head out to a local restaurant/pub and have a few drinks and discuss kitesurfing & politics. Andy told us some of his pilot stories (he's in the Royal Air Force), and Martin & Fijtge never let me stop laughing. Those Dutch guys!

Last night was our last night together and we went to a nice seafood place.... But when I mean seafood, I mean REAL seafood. We are right next to the ocean and it was so good I swear they went out a caught it when we ordered. We all got the recommended Tarifa Red Bream and even though we didn't know what it was, we sure did like it.

The first night in Granada, I heard drums from my bedroom window. Curious as to what it was, and my inner percussionist, I headed for the sound. It was coming from downtown in the old city. The further I got into the city, the louder the sound got. I turned the last corner and saw
about 40 people, dressed in all white, playing these huuuuge drums. The conductor was somehow conducting the cadences with a whistle, and there was a huge samba party in the middle of the group/circle. It was like a bug going towards the light. I couldn't help not to dance :)

I have two days left here. Bec, Andy, Karen, Martin, and Fijtge have left. I'm on my own to finish my 2 research papers and head off to Valencia next :)
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