Turtle time

View from the room

That good old travel disappointment started to kick in again as we prepared for the expect mess up with our accommodation for the beach. We had booked four nights on Agoda for a resort a few months out from our trip and about a month after the booking we got an email saying that we couldn't have the first night, as they were full (in other words they sold rooms to Agoda that they didn't even have). So we rocked up to turtle bay resort (literally, the road was the worst thing ever, huge pot holes) expecting for them to send us to their sister hotel), however, to our relief they checked us into a great room overlooking the ocean as we had originally tried to book for the full four night, and relieved, we hit the beach for a beer.

For about 5 minutes. We thought it was all over, we were safely checked in to our room, nothing could go wrong now - until he manage came to see use. Turns out we did have to move (pissed us off too, after having told them the situation at check in) but luckily someone had  not turned up, so we just had to move into a downstairs room rather than down the road.

After the messy beginning with the hotel we tried to clear the slate and enjoy the isolation. The beach was empty, other than a way up a small fishing spot where the men pulled in nets for hours on end and surfed small boats in through the rough waves. There were only 7 rooms in the hotel and we often felt as if we were the only people around, we could see down the entire bay from our second room upstairs (from night two) and it was a truly an amazing place.


'Chef', as he became known, would come out after dinner each night and check we were happy with our meals. Luckily the food was pretty tasty overall, they even did a Sri Lankan breakfast for us on our last day as per our request (Sri Lankan breakfast is sooooo good - currys, hoppers and all sorts of tasty treats.... Including coconut sambol - fresh chilli, lime juice and coconut, all ground together).

Then there was the night the power went out, we had a SWARM of bugs attack the restaurant followed by dinner and wine by candle light. Free wine of course. The staff seemed very concerned that the guests were going to be upset by it all, but I think most of us seemed to have no worries. Given the isolation it is not surprising. It also gave us more time to chat with Fran and David, the semi-retired poms we had made acquaintances with. The only problem with having no power was it also meant no air con.... Not such an easy heat to sleep in, even with a few cocktails behind us.

Spike and Gayan looking down the lagoon

Temple

Our second to last day at Turtle Bay we went for a little look around the area with a local tuk tuk driver, Gayan. And he was fantastic. He was enthusiastic, cheerful and informative. We were told the story again of the young Sri Lankans who drink and fight, this time related to the fishermen (last time it was cricket fans). We had a look around the fishing village, there were so many boats, mainly the small ones with the outriggers and heaps of tangled nets balled up.

The real point of interest in the stop was where he took us down to the lagoon entrance. Earlier we had visited a pagoda, where Gayan had told us about his tsunami experience and here, in the lagoon, was where he was that day. It was there that he was with his friends when it hit and he was swept down the lagoon 1.5kms. Gayan and his friend were very very lucky to survive that day, and they lost 10 of their friends. He said how it had been in Sri Lanka post the Boxing Day tsunami, and the incredible amount of aid that got everyone back on their feet. Gayan had received a new tuk tuk from the Red Cross, which lead him to where he was today, a 32 year old local tuk tuk driver. It is hard to explain how it feels when you are told a story like that, he told it so matter of fact. For me this reflected how common his situation is around Tangalle. How normal it now seems. Everyone has a story of how they were effected.

He also took us up a rock in the bird sanctuary to look down the lagoon at the water buffalo and to a beautiful temple, where there was both Buddhist and Hindu symbols of worship. It was a beautiful temple, only, some of the painted walls were peeling badly and I don't know how long the images will be remembered. It is always a shame to see deterioration of such historic and special places.

It was sad to be leaving turtle bay, but we knew we had a treat in store once we got to colombo.

And back to colombo we went. A couple of hours in a car and then we were destined for another train ride.  Another frustrating travel moment, where our driver brought us train tickets, and after assuring us many times that he was getting the tickets we asked, for we ended up sweating the next four hours away on a smelly train towards colombo.

All that melted away instantly when we arrived at our hotel. We had a domo, our personal butler.... I think that gives a pretty good idea of the awesomeness that is this boutique hotel. They would make any cocktail you could want and the service was outstanding. I also had a massage here too, and it was much less invasive and nicer than the others we had had in Sri Lanka.

One room of our suite at Casa Colombo

Random fact - the cost of tuk tuk is (in nzd) about $5000, a small as car $17000, not cheap to seat up a driving business in Sri Lanka considering the average household only earns $350 per month.

The Sri Lankan president gave an elephant to Japanese.... Somehow I think he wants something.....

From the hills to the sand

It was a welcome relief to hit a resort for a night in Kandy. The temperatures were no long freezing (we had to get more warm clothes when in the highlands - I basically wore everything I had). As much as I love curry, a plate of French fries went down a treat. The view was amazing, and it was a shame we only had one night here. We looked out over the mountains from our free upgraded suite and shared our lovely large deck with the monkeys (giving spike a hell of a fright to open the curtains to one). It was time for some book time by the pool and a massage or two.

They had a lovely traditional ayrveda centre in the hotel so we nipped in for an afternoon massage and some reflexology the following morning. The massage was, interesting, I can't say it is a type of massage I would fully recommend. There was a bit of pinching invovled... The reflexology was great though.

Though we didn't do anything really, not even a trip to the Buddhas tooth relic, it was still a great night relaxing and been attended to. Finally I started reading my first book of the trip too!

The next afternoon we hit the evening train back to Colombo. We were a bit late booking and got the last two first class seats (well worth it for the air on etc), so we sat apart for this journey. Luckily it was only a bit over 2.5 hrs, so went by in a blink. We then needed to get down to Galle fort from Colombo. Our travel wits weren't the best and we ended up ripped off big time after negotiating the price with the "boss"of the taxi company before hand and the driver not following through during the journey. We were so tired, and it wasnt worth the fight over $15. All the same probably the most bitter taste Sri Lanka had left in our mouths to date.

Yet again though our faith was restored once we got to Galle and met Ravi. Another fantastic guesthouse owner. Him and his parents kept the place immaculate and he even remembered my pineapple allergy and served other fruits for breakfast. Ravi was cheerful, friendly and a great guy to chat with. Plus spike was pretty happy that he made a decent coffee too!

In Galle we took a trip down to Unawatuna beach, one which got badly hit during the Boxing Day tsunami and is now crawling with tourists. The beach loungers are so packed in front of the bars and restaurants that the water literally laps at the end of them. Nice beach though all the same, even if the waves were pretty rough for swimming. Our tuk tuk back was driven by an ex under 19 Sri Lankan cricket player - loved the sport and was stoaked to share all the big name players he had met while on the bench at the World Cup. The Sri Lankan players were practising to right by the road for the following days test match, which was cool and required a quick photo stop.

We followed this up with a sunset stroll around the fort walls. From here we could see the cricket stadium and coastline. It was so so hot, it was hard to get out and about in Galle. At least the shower at ravi's was pretty good as damn it was hot!!

The next morning we had double breakfasts - one at the guesthouse and another Sri Lankan style one down the road. Loaded up with food we headed into the stifling heat for a couple of hours of the first day of the Sri Lanka/Bangladesh cricket match. I had on spikes newly purchased sri lankan cricket tshirt, which attracted a bit attention, as it looked totally ridiculous over my dress. A whole nzd$2 we were in the galle cricket club grandstand, drinking 50c 400ml ginger beers in the crazy heat. It was so hot, we only lasted until they broke for lunch. Great views though, and it is neat to see how they get the locals invovled in helping out with things (e.g. they got a heap of guys to come into the stadium when it looked like rain to prepare to drag the tarps over the pitch). Next we found a car (and some welcome air con) and were off down the coast a couple of hours to the beach for our last few days in Sri Lanka.

It feels like we never left

It has been a hectic two months, with leaving Aussie, moving home and getting married. But in true spirit that didn't stop us getting our travel back on for a whirlwind of a honeymoon to Singapore and Sri Lanka.

A quick stop over in Singapore after a joyful as always (*soul destroying*) jetstar flight, meant for a fantastic night in a great new hotel near the airport. Nothing like a swim to wash away the Singaporean humidity. We squeezed in some great meals (milo on toast anyone?) and a trip to the bay gardens before skipping out for Sri Lanka. We will be back for a few more days on the way home.

It was about now I reassessed jetstar long hall... I think tiger short hall was worse. Even my knees touched the seat in front of me!! And the smell! Nightmare. Post smelly, clostraphobic flight we were greeted by what could be the most hospitable guesthouse host ever imaginable. He had our welcome drinks ready, got the other hosts all out of bed to meet us (including he elderly mother), had our train tickets ready for the next day and, for the first time for spike and I, a named welcome card at the airport.

On a side note, the duty free shops at the airport were nothing like I had ever seen, it felt more like a market street for washing machines and appliances, with many many little stores all named after their owners... Crazy.

The next morning It felt like the first stage of the trip was beginning as we boarded the train towards the hills, destined for Nuwara Eliya. And what a train it was. Although basic in amenities (as to be expected) the service was fantastic and the free wifi, a crazy unexpected joy for the 8 hour journey (meant to be a 5 hr trip I think).

Nuwara Eliya is the tea capital of Sri Lanka, and it turns out I really enjoy the light type of tea grown in these highlands. We took a trip out to the Mackwoods tea factory - this tea is only exported. The tea fields are never ending and beautiful. Perched on the steepest of slopes no land is wasted and the ladies work hard hand plucking then drying them. It is a very manual process still, even in this very large factory.

Like anywhere else in Asia there are a lot of tuk tuks, many are in great condition (better than SE Asia) and Sri Lankans take a lot of care in keeping them clean (along with their streets, houses etc). One thing I really like is they all seem to have some sort of slogan on the side of them. From funny and inspiration, "if you are in hell, keep going" to religious quotes. Always in English too.

It turns out that there is a "New Zealand" farm here in the highlands also, about 40 minutes out of town. Our guesthouse was very proud of the two dairy farms and very small factory. Although, other than the landscape (nz looking bush) it seemed to all run a bit differently from at home. Felt like they had put a bit of a show on, bring stock into the sheds, and I must admit some of it made me pretty emotional. Pleased we saw it and it wasn't all bad, but far from the most fun experience, nor much like the New Zealand way of doing it. We were quite disappointed there was no one there to ask questions of either. Needless to say we didn't come out that much more educated on dairying in Sri Lanka. On a positive note, at least it all ended with some fantastic Indian food for lunch on the way back to town.

The food at the guesthouse here has been awesome too, the host has taken to giving spike some of what they are eating, the 'bit of spice' meals... Needless to say we have some HOT food, although very very good. We were told that Sri Lankan food wasn't that hot before we came... I think I tend to disagree with this! Think chillies stuffing an omelette, or anything devilled (which unlike devilled in nz is very very hot with hunks of chilly and a bit of sweet). Not to say there isn't option with less of a kick. Just isn't the default here. Lucky we both love spice!

The weather has been pretty rough the last couple of days which has lead to a change in plans. Plus we are also still exhausted from the travelling. Adams peak trek has been bypassed for what I am sure will be a great, although very short, trip to Kandy. With a stop at another tea factory, blue fields for some more tea tasting on the way.

Morocco - Part three: Shopping, Drowning and Eating

Riad Eden

There are cats everywhere. Even in the middle of the desert the campsite had cats. They are not the cute and cuddly type, but a Moroccan type, that make the weirdest meow noise ever. It is like a scream cry (like cats do), but they seem to not have the ability to make normal meowing noises as well. Just the horrible cat scream.

There are a lot of sounds actually. Like the call to prayer. You don’t notice it so much during daylight, but at 5:30am you can clearly hear the ‘singing’? I think I didn’t sleep through the night once while staying there (though I am sure the rock hard beds added to that).

During the day time the sounds change. Just like Asia you are constantly hounded to buy things. Common sayings in Marrakech included: “what’s this?” (for those selling soaps and spices and anything that smells) “you’re too skinny, come eat” (food stall holders in the evenings) and the age old “you promised me yesterday”, were a few I can remember.

The selling strategy at the food stalls in the evenings literally made me walk down the aisles cracking up laughing the first night we arrived. Everyone charges at you with menus and promises from every direction and takes no shame in grabbing your arm, trying to drag you, and standing right in front of you so you can’t move. The novelty wore off fast though and by the last night I had given up even speaking to them and just walked past ignoring all comments, eye contact and charging through anyone in my way.

We had arranged a lovely Riad to stay in after our trip into the desert. Riad Eden is owned by a French couple and their staff are very friendly, the breakfasts extremely generous and the guesthouse just plain lovely. Breakfast in Morroco is normally quite tasty, they have these deslious pancake things generally eaten with honey, fig or apricot jam. Tasty. And of course there is the fresh orange juice, not unlike South America. Emmanuel, the owner seems to have an endless supply of conversational topics and a lot of really helpful advice as well.  A highly recommended place to stay if you ever go to Marrakesh.

Sweet treats

All the sweets in Morocco are almond flavoured. By sweets I mean cakes, cookies, slices all the little baked and non-baking goodies they eat. It gets a bit old after a while. Although they are pretty tasty, just probably not as good as they look.

The median in Marrakesh gets pretty mental. There are people pushing everywhere and bikes and motos try to squeeze through streets which can barely fit two people wide. I even got hit by a pushbike and damn it hurt. I spent most of my time wishing they would just ban bikes from the median They even managed to fit small trollies down some streets and small cars down the slightly larger ones… what a nightmare!

We did our fair share of shopping and bargaining. There is a lot of neat stuff to buy, Tarjines, tea pots, bowls, luggage, shoes, lampshades and so on… The best value buy probably was Spikes fake Rolex, which started off at 650Dh (65 euros) and we ended up paying 140Dh (14 euros). Not bad. Though it is not always keeping time… The bargaining was good though!

We couldn’t visit Morocco without going to a Hamamm. The massage was below average but the Hamamm itself was a surprise. Sitting naked on a little stool getting hot water thrown at me by a lady and then scrubbed down with black soap and drowned again. Intense.

On a side note I was determined to complain to the guy that sold us the tour. With his encouragement to “please come back and tell him how it was” after the tour. My goal however was to gain back some of the money we were ripped of through being sold to another company. There was people in our van who only paid 700Dh each, where we paid 175D more each (for the ‘better experience’ we were ripped off). I must admit with the numerous tours we had done and been ripped off I expected nothing. After waiting patiently while others handed their money away we finally got our turn to speak up. After a good half an hour we walked away with 200Dh and an offer of a free  day trip. We didn’t want the day trip. But it was better than a kick in the face and a lot more than I expect from Best Travel. Although, still not a fair deal.

After a little over a week in Morocco we were ready to leave and on our way for one night in London before embarking on the long journey that is getting to Melbourne. 

Morocco - Part two: The Sahara Desert

Sunrise in the Sahara (we are the last two people)

Things started getting a bit more interesting from there. We had a week in Marrakech and this meant we had plenty of time to look into a desert tour. We spoke to a couple of different agents to get an idea of price. There seemed to be a decent difference between what you could get price wise. Having done a lot of tours over our travels and having been ripped of our fair share we had learnt one thing (or so we thought). Always pay a bit more and get a bit more. Don’t take the cheap option.

Sugar coated peanuts... delish

Using this theory we decided on a company, Best Travel, who promised us a number of things including longer camel ridding than many of the others, showed us photos of a nice enough hotel and decent sized, comfortable looking vans and above all they were very sure in promising that they would “not do what other companies do and sell you to another company, you will defiantly be with Best Travel”. What an outright lie that was.

We waited for our van at 7am as instructed and it all started out well. That was until we got changed over to a different van just around the road. It took us a minute to realise this was a piece of crap van, a lot smaller than promised (so way less comfortable) with a mini seat – which I was left with on this first leg. Not long after we hit the road it was obvious that the company was “Sahara Travel” and not Best Travel after all. We had been sold. I knew from there this was going to bring back memories of Solar de Ulyuni and others tours from the past. I tried to brace myself for the angry I was likely to feel over the next four days.

In order to see the ‘real desert’ and not just a rocky desert you need to take a four day, three night trip from Marrakech to Erg Chebbi, almost in Algeria. So much so that we saw the border (well a few sticks in the sand).

Us at a Kasbah

The tour started off ok, as many tours do. We stopped a decent amount of times and saw a lot of things as we crossed the Atlas Mountains and descended through the valleys on the other side. Visiting a Kasbah where Gladiator and heap of other movies have been filmed that is protected by UNESCO and a few other more boring things. Things really started looking shady from the first night. The hotel was extremely cold and there was no heating in the rooms. By this stage I had all my clothes on, singlet, thermal, long sleeve top, cardie and jacket from the UK. The rooms were dirty and everything was damp and falling apart. Far from the decent (though nothing amazing) pictures we were shown when booking.

The next morning the cold was confirmed when we opened the window to get handfuls of snow. “It won’t be cold, you won’t need any more clothes than what you are wearing now – the tour salesman told us”. But it was truly snowing and freezing. The upside to the snow was it was really pretty and it was also our first semi European snowfall. It wasn’t a bad start to the day, but put some serious concerns about our trip into the Sahara for that night.

The wind was crazy as well pulled into a small hotel in the middle of nowhere. Literally it was just flat hard and dusty. It was from here that we would enter the Sahara. A mere 5 minute camel ride away and we were deep in the heart of the Sahara. Rolling hills of sand in every direction. It was amazing.

It was also freezing. The winter wind hadn’t stopped and sent sand in every direction. After about 15 minutes I was holding out to get somewhere warm, all feeling had gone from my fingers and toes and I was about as cold as I think I have even been in my life. It was mental. Even once we arrived at camp I could not warm up and didn’t warm up until I was on the road again towards Marrakech.

Our time camel riding was yet another disappointment as the cheap tour we found had an hour at night and an hour in the morning and our one was meant to have two hours – but with getting sold this was another pitfall (among many smaller things along the way).

The people are weird in Morocco. They have had European tourists for so long that it feels like we only ever see a small part of what they are really like underneath. They are cheeky, they try to rip you off more than I ever would have guessed (at least as much, probably a lot more than Asian country’s! and the costs are a LOT higher in Morocco too, so you end up a lot worse off – for example the price difference between the tour we paid for and the cheap one we were offered was about $60). An example of this ‘milk the tourist’ attitude was when we went to visit a gorge on our desert trip. There was no need for people to be washing their clothes there; there were lots of streams closer to where the towns were and better water etc but they took their donkeys miles away to this part where the tourists come and feed them some hay. Obviously people were stopping to take photos or pat the donkeys and they evidently were asking for money…. Public space anyone? When they weren’t paid the lady would spit towards the tourists. They didn’t need to wash their clothes there and if they wanted money they should have been selling things or singing or doing SOMETHING, not trying to get money because people took photos or patted their donkeys, which they clearly had only put there to try and get money out of tourists. 

Morocco - Part one: Not what we expected.

As we flew over the gap between Spain and Morocco the land became so much greener than I expected. There were clearly marked paddocks, crops and cattle. Not exactly what one imagines when you think of Morocco. It was very beautiful and not at all sparse as my imagination and small amounts of education on Morocco had told me.

Hassan II 

Casablanca airport welcomed us not with the warmth I was expecting or hoping. It was somewhat warmer than Spain, but not enough to become a non-coat wearing human again. Damn it. A reasonably comfortable train ride into the city and a short taxi later we found ourselves a hotel. Another shock had hit us upon arriving – that French appeared to be not only a widely spoken language, but the dominate language. Being a European language they all expected us to speak French. Doh. I later read that French is only really around in the cities, and Moroccan Arabic is much more prevalent throughout the country as a whole. Although it brought back strong memories of backpacking through South America, old and grimy. This was not the Morocco I had imagined. It felt like it lacked anything, sort of like Yangon in Myanmar did. Reflecting on that experience I knew for certain that things would change, if not in other parts of the city then when we headed down to Marrakech the following afternoon. The first meal in Morocco added to my South American fears. Meat and dirt and chips...... I snacked on a few fries and hoped the next day would bring better things.

The next morning after a below average Moroccan breakfast (more concerns were upon me by this time) we headed out to see Hassan II mosque on the waters edge. I had seen a number of pictures and was looking forward to seeing this amazing building. The fog lingered (it is around in the mornings, we were informed by the taxi driver to the hotel the night before and re-confirmed by the one this morning) and our photos were very largely impacted by this weather, but the sheer size of this building was not lost in the physical presence. It is an amazing building. Only built in 1993 and designed by a French architect, it is over 200 metres tall (worlds tallest minaret) and can hold 25,000 people and a further 80,000 if you include the courtyard area. It is the 7th largest mosque in the world.

After this, we jumped back in the taxi and discovered that, yes, we were staying in a terrible part of town. The waterfront area in Casablanca screams wealth in a very obvious way. There were even surfers in the cold water. Morocco was proving to be full of surprises already.

Mint being sold in the Medina

Next it was time to take a three and a half hour train journey to Marrakech. Our fingers were crossed for a feeling of more life and culture. What I would describe as soul to the Marrakech than we had found in Casablanca. Within arriving and making our way to the central medina it was evident there was a lot more going on here, with the hustle and bustle of Asia (although Asia still remains my favourite travel destination to date by a long shot). Next was the mission of finding our Riad (guesthouse) in what is well known as an area to get thoroughly lost in Marrakesh.  I was pleased to have had a bit of a read of my Lonely Planet Morocco at that stage when I remembered that 20Dh (about 2 euros) would get us a guide of sorts to escort us to where we needed to be. As those thoughts hit home a guy tapped on Spikes shoulder.

Riad Bahia

The next hour was spent looking for our accommodation. We had pre-booked on Agoda with the hopes of avoiding a nightmare upon arriving to Marrakesh. This was all in vain as we followed our guide around the medina making phone calls and looking for this mysterious Riad. Eventually the address was certainly located. No sign, nothing to indicate this was any type of accommodation. An elderly Moroccan man finally greeted our guide after a few minutes of knocking. In French. After about 10 minutes of discussion and a phone call or teo it had been established that this was the correct Riad, and that we were the first guests it has had. At about that time I knew that it could go any way from here on. The Riad host spoke not a word of English and us no French. This lead to an interesting first few days. Luckily, before our guide left we established what time the host would have breakfast ready and our general plan off attack for the next few days.

After he shared with us some weird steamed (I think nuts?) one afternoon we had an interesting conversation (or maybe more like anti-conversation) about our accommodation with him. He was trying to say we needed to pay tax on top of our booking. However, we had used this site a lot of times and it is fully inclusive. So we tried to explain with diagrams and arrows that our tax was included. In the end I think he just gave up. Was pretty funny though trying to think of as many different ways as possible to explain, including role playing.

Lunch

You would think that the food in Morocco was full of flavour. Rich with the coloured spices you always see on TV. However, in reality this was far from the case. Coloured with Turmeric was about as far as it went and if you were lucky there was cumin and salt on the table which you could add yourself. It was pretty disappointing that’s for sure. Although I think I picked up a couple of tips for making cous cous better than before I left. I have yet to try these out though as when you eat cous cous every day you get pretty over it. They don’t seem to have much variety in food either which was shame. 

Spain - only the parts where they don't speak much Spanish

Las Rambas

It felt different from what I expected; the airport felt forever away from what could be the Barcelona city. Farmland rushed past the windows with all kinds of crops and within 20 minutes we had reached the heart of Barcelona. Time to whip out a bit of that long unused basic Spanish. Or so I thought.

Northern Spain, that Catalylan state is not home to Spanish at all. Rather the people speak a somewhat related language – catalyan. There was the odd word that I could understand and most people spoke some Spanish, but not on first impressions.

Antoni Gaudi building

After we had adjusted to this (not entirely unexpected – but not such vast differences were anticipated) we settled into to our hotel and sought about making a plan for the next 5 days we had in Spain. There were a couple of touristy must do’s, but other than visit La Ramba, Montjuic  for my first European castle and some great views over the city, the waterfront area and one of the building by  Antoni Gaudi we decided Barcelona wasn’t our scene and it was time to head out (not without sampling a range of Tapa’s and wine of course).

View from the wall in Girona

Our next stop was Girona. Picked largely due to the fact that a) we could get there by train and b) it was a short journey. Girona proved to be a lovely ‘city’ with much more of a town feel too it. Much better value accommodation was appreciated here, although the beds were just as hard and uncomfortable as Barcelona and not so far from the discomfort we had grown accustomed to while in London.

The quality of the French bakeries was outstanding (although nothing of what we had experienced in France of course, but a decent step up from London all the same). With my vegetarian diet not proving to be the easiest in Spain, in fact the food in general being pretty disappointing, I ate more than my far share of pastries. I blame this for the wasteline I have recently discovered, which seemed to appear out of nowhere (undoubtly influenced by the consecutive colds which lead to no exercise in the last month we were in London). Regardless of the cause, the mission to get fit again is reinstated come Australia.

We walked the walls once surrounding once side of the city. From here you have amazing views over the city and a grand cathedral. Girona had been fought over many times, and the Roman and Jewish influences were evident in the architecture.

The wall

In Girona there is a bridge, Eiffel bridge, unsurprisingly designed by Gustave Eiffel who designed the Eiffel tower. It has got nothing on the tower, obviously. In fact it was just a small bridge, one of many which crossed one of the three small rivers that run through Girona. All the same it was pretty neat to have seen more than one of his designs in different parts of Europe too.

Our time in Spain was brought back to reality by the passing of Spike’s Nana in New Zealand. It makes you realise how physically far away from home you are. No amount of Skype and technology can make up or change the fact that Europe is, as minimum, over a full day away from New Zealand.

Before we knew it our time in Spain was over and we were on the train back into Barcelona to catch the next flight, on Air Arabia, to Morocco.

Buying some chocolate treats in Barcelona