Transitions

From Essouria, we headed North up the coast stopping in Casablanca to see the worlds tallest miranet on the worlds's third largest mosque.  This was pretty cool, and is the only mosque non Islamics can visit, but we arrived too late in the day.  The next day we continued to an overnight in Moulay Bousalhem where we took a fishing boat out to search for wild flamingos in the lagoon by our campsite.  We did find some although, because the tide was going out we saw them from about half a mile away.  Still, I guess they were flamingos (I can't be sure).  It was great anyway, to be out on the water in this beautiful and tranquil area. 
From there we traveled to Cap Spartel, home of 'Hercules cave' a cave where Hercules allegedly hung out to rest after carving the Mediterranean sea.  There is a cool formation here that is almost the exact shape of the continent of Africa.  We also walked to the beach and enjoyed our last afternoon there.  In the evening we had a Moroccan barbecue and an enormous bonfire that probably endangered everything around us.  It was an awesome party and a great way to end the trip. 
Sadly, I had to get up really early to catch the ferry back to Spain.  I was very glad that one guy in our group decided to take the same one and escort me back.  The port was just as crazy on the way out, but I was still a little sad to leave such an amazing, colorful, and culture filled place. 
We arrived back to Tarifa in the rain and here I learned the advantages of traveling with an older person.  I would have trudged to the bus station, but he suggested a taxi and after about a second of consideration we agreed to split it.  It was a dreary day, but as I reached Algercias to catch the train, things were looking up.  It was a long ride to Grenada and I was very happy to find my hostel for the night.  Here is where I appreciated flush toilets, hot water, hassle free shopping, and internet.


I really enjoyed my day in Grenada, starting with a walking tour that pointed out some of the highlights and complicated history of the city.  I didn't get into the Alhambra, as you have to book in advance and it's pretty expensive, but saw it from the outside, and enjoyed shopping, eating local food, and visiting smaller sights just as much.  In the evening I took an overnight train to Barcelona.  Now, the plan I had to get home seemed good on paper, in practice though, it was not so smart.  I took the train to Barcelona which ended up being in a non-reclining seat which really bummed me out.  I arrived early in Barcelona and headed straight to Park Guell, an awesome place, but after a restless night and and walking there with my increasingly heavy backpack, I didn't find the tourists and annoying souvenir vendors charming at all. 
I was desperate for a place to leave my bag, so I headed to the museum of Catalonia, hoping to check the bag and enjoy the museum.  I finally arrived after walking ages and taking the metro, only to discover that it was a Monday, and every museum in the city was closed.  I was super bummed about this and ended up sitting in the park, as it was a beautiful day, and people watching and reading my book.  Not really a bad way to pass a day. 

That evening, I went to the train station to take my overnight to Paris.  I had waited all trip for this one, my first time in a proper sleeper car.  Unfortunately, French transport were on strike and my train was canceled.  Instead of a bottom bunk, romantically chugging through France, I found myself on a charter bus surrounded by kids and angry parents.  Mood not improved. 
It really wasn't as bad as it could have been with generous stops and a seat to myself.  I arrived in Paris and decided to walk along the Seine to take in the sights.  I stopped a few times on my way to the Grand Palaise where I wanted to see the temporaty Monet exhibit.  I arrived around 1:15, very ready to see it and check my bag, and the guard informed me that that day only the museum would be closing at 2:00.  Overcome with tiredness and disappointment, I didn't know what to do next.  I sat down and collected my thoughts.
I ended up walking across the way to the Petit Palace where at least I could change my clothes and check my stupid, hateful, painful backpack which at that point I hated and wanted to light on fire.  I was so tired by then that I went into on of their exhibits where they were showing a video, sat on the floor, and took a nap.  I felt a real hobo by then. 
In the evening I had dinner and then made my way to the train station to catch the Eurostar (which was running without delay, thank God) to get back to London.  The border agency gave me some crap about not carrying my flight ticket out of the UK constantly on my person, but allowed me in anyway.  Jerk.
When I arrived back in England, it felt as good as coming home, after a month of travel and uncertainty, it was so, so good to be back.