Incommunicado

'Uff, thank goodness the key has stopped'. Key/rain, llave/lluvia, an easy mistake to make. Thankfully my barista is gracious and patient with my early morning small-talk… Granada intrigues with its eclectic mix of students, weekenders and abnormal quota of uni-cyclists. The city’s hippies have adopted the dread-lock mullet as their hairdo (or don’t) of choice (their dogs also sport the rasta-perro style). Moving in packs with guitars and random wind instruments, these modern gypsies take musical cues from the original Gitanos who brought Flamenco to the South of Spain. I’m not convinced by the dance style, too much like tap – and I don't like tap. Although more basic, I prefer the courting moves of Sevillana. The Abril Feria in Sevilla is one part Sydney Easter Show, one part Melbourne Cup; the rest is pure Spanish madness. I stumbled into a tent where men danced the Sevillana in drag – their camp posturing perfectly suited to the style. Barcelona's MACBA (Contemporary Art Museum) and CCCB (Centre of Contemporary Culture) were excellent, but I was unmoved with the Gaudi architecture for which the city is famed. The Sagrada Familia looks like someone took a blow torch to a mountain of lard, then pegged fruit and ghouls at it to see what sticks. Thirty went down in Portugal on a road trip with some new friends from school. I woke up in a field of wildflowers in South West Portugal near a small beach town called Carrapateira. After packing up the tent we had coffee and Portuguese tarts then swam at the windswept surf beach Bordeira. We drove East past olive groves and small towns of winding lanes and white buildings. At Serpa we stopped for dinner enjoying the local specialty of garbanzo bean and pork soup. The waiter selected three different types of cake (plum, orange and coconut) for desert and sang happy birthday to me. Jason, Chris, Caitlin and I hit the road again, but soon after happened upon a small town starting their Festival of the Cross celebrations. The band was a little ‘school spectacular’ so we made straight for the dodgems. We ate inside-out churros and washed down the deep-fried donut-y-chocolate-y goodness with some cerveja. We crossed the border back into Spain around 2am wondering whether we should move to Lisboa and study Portuguese.

Free camping in Portugal, and finally, an ocean beach...