A wild windy tale from Tarifa

 

There’s no denying the beauty of Europe’s biggest wind farm. Sleek and majestically aloof, scores of windmills dotting the hills above Tarifa, Spain’s southernmost point, turn their heads to face Africa. It’s only 9am, but already the mighty structures are beating out a circular rhythm. You’d expect them to make some kind of noise – a hum or a whir – but there’s nothing save the whistling of the Levante.

After the dreary, cheap sameness of the Costa del Sol, it’s a great relief to be in the lesser touristed Costa de la Luz. Even the big, new road that traverses the southern coast, paid for by British pounds that pour in to Andalucia by way of package-tour holidaymakers, has petered out. The now narrow road climbs into the hills leaving the stretch of white stuccoed villas, fish’n’chip shops and crowded beaches behind and giving prime views of Gibraltar’s Rock and the straits that separate Europe from Africa. On a clear day, as we’re repeatedly told, you can make out the white pillbox houses on the Moroccan coast, but with this wind, the view of Tangiers is a murky haze of heat and dust.

Where the Wind Blows, The Sun-Herald, June 10, 2007

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