Travel Update 6: The last kilometres

The ferry from Morocco to Spain is more than just a 30 minute boat trip. It is a transfer from Africa to Europe, from the Islam to Christianity, and from sunshine to winter. It is a transfer from annoying hasslers to the reign of rules & regulations; a transfer from a pleasant form of chaos to a pleasant form of luxury.

Spain is: orange trees in the streets of every town. I climbed one to get one of these juicy looking bright orange oranges. An old man walked by and he shook his head. Was it because climbing decorative trees in the streets is not done? I took I bite out of my orange and jumped. That's when I imagined that maybe the old man shook his head just to warn me about the terribly bitter taste of the oranges.

Spain is: Tapas. Sherry. Beer. Spaniard's favourite pastime appears to be strolling around town, stopping by at every single café, bar or terrace to drink a drink and eat some tapas. A habit I didn't find it hard to adjust to at all.

After the Spanish cities of Cadiz, Sevilla, Barcelona and Figueres, I crossed the border to France. I couchsurfed in Montpellier, hitchhiked all the way to Reims, then took a train to Gent and Brussels in Belgium. Having seen the European Parliament buildings from the inside, I continued to my home country: the Netherlands.

So here I am. The journey is over. Time to tell the stories you didn't yet read here on this website. They are plenty. Send me an email or write a comment (reactie) and I'll tell you all about it.

Thanks for reading!