TRAVERSE 76 steps into the courtyard with orange trees and I was suddenly aware that I was in another continent . Different vegetation and culture … Arab ; Islamic ; squat toilets ; busy markets ; people dressed in long cloaks , heads covered . Another world on Europe ’ s doorstep . But still European weather and the next day , the rain was so bad it prevented me from moving on .
the problem was diagnosed by friends as far flung as Delhi , Australia , Sark , Bristol and Cornwall . They thought it was either the coil or the condenser . The symptoms fitted with a faulty coil . I arrived in Jerez which was at its wettest for decades , settled in a pretty posada and found a mechanic to sort out the bike . My poor Spanish was enhanced by pointing at pictures in the manual . They understood ! A new Toyota ‘ bobina de encendido ’ did the trick . No more racing , cranky engine at the end of the day . The steering had become rather wobbly by this time .
The days spent with my daughter at the flamenco festival were outstanding as well as sunny and dry . After much dancing , tapas , performing horses and sherry , she flew home . I wanted to explore now it had stopped raining .
At Tarifa , the jumping-off point for boats to Morocco , I exchanged maps and travel stories with a motorcycling friend on his way back to the UK after a six-month tour of Africa on his Trans Alp . He inspired me to see what it was like , too .
As the ferry approached Morocco I felt that mixture of apprehension and excitement that comes before entering a new country . No matter how experienced you are , it ’ s always a thrill . The border crossing was straightforward at Ceuta and I was issued with some bits of paper to keep until I left .
My bike insurance had just expired and I didn ’ t buy any for Morocco which , being non-European Union , was not covered by my insurance anyway . As usual I hoped for the best and rode along good roads with views of the lush mountains , dry for all the fifty-four kilometres to Chefchaouen . At the Hotel Bonsai , I rode down the
TRAVERSE 76 steps into the courtyard with orange trees and I was suddenly aware that I was in another continent . Different vegetation and culture … Arab ; Islamic ; squat toilets ; busy markets ; people dressed in long cloaks , heads covered . Another world on Europe ’ s doorstep . But still European weather and the next day , the rain was so bad it prevented me from moving on .
In the medina ( marketplace ) with tiny streets which on a map would look like a heap of spaghetti , I immediately got lost . A man who sold his own hand-knitted hats , gloves and jumpers offered to close his shop for the afternoon in order to warm me up .
“ My name is Love ” he crooned . Had he known I was wearing three jumpers , two vests , leggings under my jeans and plastic bags on my feet inside my boots , he might not have offered . I declined but he did cheer me up !