The flash apartment we rented seemed incredibly noisy. The wind was howling through the stairwell and making such a racket. This was amplified by the very high ceilings. Karl started looking around for the noise, I insisted that it was the wind. Karl pulls the fridge plug from the wall and the noise winds down and stops. Damn it. First the rifle and now this. I was happy for the peace and quiet, but annoyed that twice Karl had been right and I was wrong, in less than 2 hours. What kind of woman was I? Incidentally, a day or so later someone asked Karl his favourite place in Spain and he was torn between Madrid and Cadiz. I can safely say that this was actually a decision between seeing Steven and ripping me twice in two hours.
The streets of Cadiz were similar to all old quarters; a chaos of people, terrace seating, terrible footpaths that appear then vanish, bicycles and vehicles. Elaborating on this, there are local cars who speed around ignorant to any other purpose of the streets, mastering their tailgating skills. Then there are tourists, blindly navigating the paths, doing three point turns around corners, accidentally turning up one way streets or worse, pedestrian only streets, struggling with the GPS losing signal in the maze of streets and high rises, misplacing them or giving up totally. The motorbikes tear around, and the delivery trucks stop at the front of whichever shop they want to make a delivery, oblivious to the banked up traffic and honking horns. Then factor in random protests and ceremonial marches. We insist on booking accommodation in the centre of this chaos so arrivals are always that much more adrenalin fuelled. Especially if you factor in the kind of "conversations" married couples have about directions and driving...
At the beach we saw a homeless man sleeping under the jetty. Karl was drawn to the shade for Matisse so pulled up right beside him, then abandoned us and went swimming, I was nervous at first, having three passports, two credit cards and a wad of cash to disguise, amid the vulnerability of a small child that could easily be snatched for ransom. I felt like Heath Ledger from Two Hands, except I wasn't about to bury Matisse and the other riches and hedge my bets on a swim, despite how tempting the water looked. So, I was pretty stoked when he got up and went down to water, I was busy prying cigarette butts and other awesome treasures from Matisse's ironclad grip so I didn't notice that he walked to the water edge near where Karl was swimming, then stood and took a piss into the ocean. But that wasn't enough to satisfy him, he walked up and down the beach, pissing here and there intermittently until his bladder was truly empty. Then he returned to his nest.
We have become very familiar with underground car parks this holiday, we have the systems sorted. But when we were leaving Cadiz, we accidentally drove past the exit ticket machine. We were trying to reverse back a few meters to put the ticket in, but the car behind us was arrogantly steadfast. Karl tried reversing, but the other car wouldn't budge, it was reverse tailgating. He waited to prove his point before reversing slightly, and using exaggerated facial expressions and arm movements to make it crystal clear how inconvenienced he was. Ironically, Karl dropped the ticket when he was trying to insert it and had to get out to pick it up anyway. Suffice to say, I found this hilarious.
We were feeling brave, so we ventured outside the castle wall of Cadiz to take in the stretching beaches, they were incredible. I was so distracting by their dazzling beauty that I forgot to see if the outskirts were really a ghetto or not, plus this gives me an excellent excuse not to have to retract my earlier comments. Would hate to have been wrong three times in one morning. Here are some pictures of the beach.