As the bus was heading down the road into Tarifa, I looked over and couldn’t believe the view I had. I was sitting on a bus in Spain and through my window I was staring across the Strait of Gibraltar to Morocco, Africa. As we hopped off the bus, we watched the sunset from the beach before heading to our hippie surfer hostel. Tarifa was a beautiful coastal town full of surf shops and coastal activities, specifically kite surfing as it is crowned the kite surfing capital of Europe. Following a day of relaxing on the beach and wandering the narrow roads inside the castle walls of downtown Tarifa, our bad luck streak commenced that we will forever refer to as “The Curse of Tarifa”.
The streak started with a really fun night at a local Spanish carnival. Following an extreme octopus type ride, we decided to try one we had never seen in the U.S. (probably because it has no rules or seat belts). It consisted of a large circular platform with a ring of bench seating along the outside edge facing the middle. As the ride began to spin, the platform would also move in a partial gyroscope fashion. Since we were free to walk around during the ride, I was occasionally able to jump at just the right time to give me a super jump. Unfortunately, one of my super jumps went a little too high as I came crashing down, landing on my side (picture above) resulting in a cracked/fractured rib. Curse of Tarifa 1: Tommy and Marge 0. We still had an incredible night at the carnival, even if we out-aged most people by 10 years.
Before we left Tarifa, we wanted to plan a day trip to Gibraltar before taking a boat to Morocco. After our two hour bus ride to Gibraltar, we realized we forgot it was an English territory and we needed our passports. Curse of Tarifa 2: Tommy and Marge 0. So, we hopped on a bus back to Tarifa, got our passports, and headed back to Gibraltar. That only took 6 hours of our day, so we were left with 3 hours to explore the Rock of Gibraltar. Taking the cable car to the top of the rock we were met with an unbelievable view and several furry friends. Within 20 feet of getting off the cable car we encountered our first macaque monkey. As we ran through the old ruins like kids navigating a new playground, we couldn’t get over the view. We were standing on an English territory overlooking Spain to our right and Morocco to our left, across the Strait of Gibraltar. After about an hour on the top of the rock we realized we had to book it back to catch the bus to Tarifa. We are getting use to cutting things close as we have yet to make it to any train or bus more than 9 minutes before it leaves, running and jumping on just as the doors shut has become normal to us. Halfway back to Tarifa Maggie tells me her passport is missing and we were supposed to be getting on a boat to Africa in the morning! Curse of Tarifa 3: Tommy and Marge 0. As if a lost passport wasn’t bad enough, Maggie had broken out with some type of skin infection that was spreading across her arms, legs, and back. Curse of Tarifa 4: Tommy and Marge 0. We decided first thing in the morning we would head back to Gibraltar to look for the passport (for the 3rd time round trip) and then try to find a doctor.
The next morning, following another two hour bus ride to Gibraltar we began retracing our steps. We checked with the English passport security, Spanish border patrol, and slowly worked our way back to the bus stop asking every shop we had passed during our sprint to catch the bus the day before. At the last restaurant before the bus stop, a worker who spoke broken English got across “I heard a police officer found a passport yesterday in the area”. A glimmer of hope! He pointed us in the direction of the local police station. As we arrived we used google translate to explain what we were looking for since they didn’t speak English. After they understood the one gentleman said “no”. With drooping heads we were about to leave when the other officer began to speak in Spanish to the other and stopped us. He walks over to a grey box in the corner of the room and pulls out an American passport. With fingers crossed we prayed it was Maggie’s as he opens the small blue book that is so vital to our trip and he says “sorry”. In my head I began planning our trip back to Madrid to the U.S. Embassy with the poor girl that looks like a Dalmatian with pink spots all over her as the police officer turns the passport around to show us Maggie’s smiling face. Probably not the best time for a joke like that, but we were so excited and relieved to know we had it back. First problem down, now to take care of the unknown skin problem spreading on Maggie. Curse of Tarifa 4, Tommy and Maggie 1!
As we got back into town we stopped in a pharmacy to ask for help who directed us to the doctor’s office. Walking into the doctor’s office I wasn’t sure if we were entering a haunted house or a medical facility. The florescent lights flickered in a dim lit room as we cautiously followed the hand written sharpy sign “Urgencia” with an arrow pointing to the counter next to the abandoned gurney with a blue sheet draped on it. It didn’t help that someone was watching a horror movie in the attached room so we could hear the blood curdling screams as characters were killed off one by one. The gentleman at the counter spoke no English. Thank you Google Translate! After reading my translation about Maggie’s mysterious spots and symptoms he eventually communicated we had to go to the bank to pay. After we paid, we could then return the following morning to see a doctor. By the next morning Maggie’s spots had grown in size and spread across more of her body. We paid at the bank and the teller stamped Maggie’s medical form and we headed back to the haunted house, I mean doctor’s office. This time the atmosphere was a little more welcoming. We were relieved when we saw a doctor who spoke clear medical English and even though she couldn’t pin point the issue or cause she prescribed an oral medicine and cream to help. A couple more days resting up in Tarifa and Maggie was cured! Curse of Tarifa 4, Tommy and Marge 2! After a 5 day delay, it was finally time to jump ship to Morocco! I don’t think I will ever look back at this city without laughing. We had a crazy string of good and bad luck, but at the end of the day, we were in Spain, so we couldn’t complain.
P.S. Tarifa might have gotten a 5th point on us because I have been battling a stomach bug for the past 15 days that very well could have started on our last day in Tarifa.
