BEING SEEN

Two continents, a warm sea, and a cold ocean collide together here, so there's always some kind of wind going from someplace to someplace else. This is the southern tip of all Europe, and it used to have a high suicide rate, cause of the howling wind, the howling wind.

Now, the roads in from every direction pass huge flower beds full of white electric windmills. The Kite-surfers moved in too, making Tarifa their european capital, and starting chic surf gear shops all down the high street.

There's a shop with a resident golden retriever, and the nice owners are trying to stop him bugging me for strokes, but I'm weak! I can't resist him, or these fantastic red designer sneaker boots.

You look in the Rough Planet for bars and restaurants, and it turns out all the best ones are closed down for winter. Not the Misiana, there's decor to die for, and apparently it's *THE* place to be seen in Tarifa.

So we're sat on an oversized green gnarly tree trunk sofa, drinking a cerveza grand, a Carlos I brandy, a Bacardi Coke, and *BEING SEEN*.