From Tarifa to Seville

Waking up in the Tarifa campsite was cute as.

The floor of the shower block was made of those smooth but slightly bumpy little ceramic terracotta tiles. You know, the ones you tend to only get in Spain? And there were glossy ceramic decorative blue and white tiles all over the joint. Adam and Eve were gorgeously mosaiced in porcelain-like tiles on the respective gendered loos and there were loads of other random decorations across the site (including a big bull?!). I can’t remember what I saw but there was something that suggested there are longer-term residents that stay at the site.

Toilet block

Wacky!

This was the first time we’d actually “camped” in the van and so we were going to breakfast camping style. Tone got up early and showered before waking me. He got the kettle on whilst I showered (using the gas canister in the back of the van, stored under the princess bed, the grill and the whistly kettle). I came out to a lovely cuppa coffee. 😊

The gummy chap from the night before had mentioned that there was a supermercado (supermarket) and so we took a mooch over to see if we could get any milk to have with the corn flakes we’d bought back a few countries ago(!). This campsite was so quirky – even the speed bumps were funny, painted in the red and yellow colours of the Spanish flag.

Spanish speed bumps

The “supermercado” campsite shop was proper old-school – it had a little metal hip-height rotatory thing you used to have in supermarkets to control who was going in and out of the shop. The shop’s refrigerated goods were in the kind of display cabinet you get at a sandwich shop, where you choose your fillings (it’s like they got it from a friend for knock-off price and said, yeah, that’ll do!) and the bread had just come in (hooray!), so we grabbed ourselves a lovely warm, golden, crusty bakery-smelling baguette, some ham, salami, cheese and some very 80’s-looking postcards (featuring questionable fashion, topless women and boxy cars – humph).

We breakfasted out the back of the van, made some sandwiches with our fresh bread and chucked some soup in our thermoses for the road. We’d agreed to head to Seville, bypassing Cádiz, and took advantage of having wifi before leaving to find a campsite just outside of Seville. We settled on one in Dos Hermanos and agreed we’d get there for tonight but wouldn’t bother booking it. We’d have a chilled night once we get to Seville and head into the centre of town the following day.

Our camping set up

We set off from Tarifa around about midday (Ha! Slow rise!! The pace has definitely changed!!) and crossed through Jerez de la Frontera just in time for a bite to eat in the early afternoon. We parked up on a side street and when Tone got out of the car he asked me what that smell was. <3 <3 <3 orange blossom <3 <3 <3 I was so glad he’d asked and that he seemed to like it!!

We found a very authentic tapas bar in the middle of a square that seemed to be frequented by the locals. (For me, this is one of the joys of being able to speak the language; experiencing the more precious, genuine areas of the world, living as the locals do, rather than hitting up the arguable superficial touristy places.)

There was no menu, but a little counter on the bar where we could see what was on offer in the display cabinet. The bartender explained what each thing was in turn (and to be honest, it didn’t sound or look all that appetising – maybe it was just too foreign for our little oh so limited British gastronomical palates!). We opted for a salmon bomb, a solomillo and a Russian salad (this used to be my favourite tapas and I’m delighted Anf has taken a liking to this one too!).

And and I have talked a fair amount about the bull-fighting since our time in Valencia. I’ve explained that toreadors are regarded more highly than the royal family but haven’t been able to answer his questions about what is done with the bull afterwards. One of my friends in Melilla was able to enlighten us and reassured us that it is used, even if just for pet food. In this taberna, on the front doors, were posters of upcoming bullfights in the town. I explained to Anf that, the decade before that I’d visited this place, my friend and I were lucky enough to get an impromptu visit of the local bullring (mainly from just being cheeky enough to venture in to it ourselves!). I asked the waiter where the bullring was and he told us it was far. Maybe not then… We had places to go, people to see.

The salmon bomb was DELICIOUS. Smoked salmon, stuffed with Philadelphia cream cheese, leeks and some other bloody lovely herbs! The solomillo (pork in a very fruity sauce) was equally delicious. (The dude hanging at the bar on his jack jones was cracking out some jaw-droppingly terrible dad jokes about solomillo in Spanish that I won’t even attempt to translate – but it was nice to be amongst locals and laugh with them!) And the Russian salad was just incredible. So incredibly that Anf insisted I ask the waiter for the recipe. Mayonnaise, crab sticks, potatoes. I’m sure there’s more to it than that…

Bellies filled (you seeing a theme here?!), we hit the road. Next stop: Seville.

 

We arrived at the Vilssom campsite early evening, picked a spot near the loos and bedded in for the night.

We decided to get in a beer or two and some crispies to go with our sandwiches. The shop at this campsite was similar to the one in Tarifa, with very little stocked on the shelves and a little bit stuck in time. It was endearing, until we discovered that we needed to pay in cash. Boo! I walked up to the Carrefour down the road, got us some beers and crisps and headed back to the van for our evening feast! We had a game or two of cards and nodded off, ready for a day of sightseeing in Seville tomorrow.