Heading to Morocco sounded good in theory, but of course we hadn't taken into account the Andalucia Express...... or the wrath of God/Allah.

We left Cordoba 8.00am (in the rain) and got to the train station in plenty of time for the one direct train to Algeciras (where we would cross by ferry to Tangier). The one direct train, however was... you guessed it, 'Completo' (how anyone travels in this country in Summer I don’t know..). This meant that our three hour journey was now going to be around seven hours, with a four hour stop over in the centre of the known universe, Bobadilla.

This town consists of approximately three houses, a train station and one cafe across the road from the train station. This town was apparently so boring that the train station was the social centre, at least according to the dozen or so kids that drifted in and out, just to hang out. And it was raining.

After two hours, the fast train pulled up. It was still completo, and even had guards situated at every door ready to beat down any gringos trying to sneak on. After three, another train arrived and deposited around 60 people who had opted to sleep in rather than spend four hours in Bobadilla (they don't know what they missed!). Among them were the only other two gringos we had seen for miles, huddled together and smoking cigarette after cigarette.... but more on them later.

We all finally trudged out on to the platform around 4pm to catch the train.

Which was delayed. By an hour and a half.

Finally, the grossly misnamed Andalucia Express arrived (all two carriages of it) and we piled on to enjoy another meandering train ride through the grey, rainy wilds of southern Spain.

We finally arrived in Algeciras train station. The guide book had nothing flattering to say about the town, however we were planning to stay a night and tackle Tangier in the morning. In the train station however, we again encountered our smoking friends as well as another two gringos, an American couple arriving about 25 years too late for the Marrakech express.. They all seemed to be heading over that night, so we decided what the hell. The ticket vendor hurriedly sold us tickets to the 8.00pm ferry (it was now 7.30pm), assuring us that we would be in Tangier by 9.30pm, and took our money before we had a chance to see the weather outside.

As soon as we did, it became fairly obvious that we wouldn’t be in Tangier by 9.30pm. In fact, in our battle against the gale force wind and torrential rain, it was doubtful that we would make the ferry terminal (about 300m away) by 9.30pm. But we persevered and managed to get totally lost. On our way, we encountered a couple of saturated, queasy looking Americans who, on closer questioning, revealed that it had just taken them 6 hours to cross the Straight of Gibraltar. We also stumbled upon a very battered looking car that seemed to have just come off a ferry that two people were furiously photographing, no doubt for insurance purposes (we were later to confirm that the state of this car was a direct result of the aforementioned 6 hour trip across the Straight).

We also found the ferries. And the boarding gates, that towered high above us. However it fast became apparent that there was no one else around and this wasn't the way on to the ferries. It was now 8.00pm and the gale force winds continued unabated. We eventually found a deserted staircase leading the a gangway above, which we climbed. The gangways resembled some kind of disaster zone, with metal roofing squares being tossed about by the winds and rain pouring in through the holes.

There was only one way to go, and it was to the terminal. So finally, after an inadvertent trip through a deserted customs office (much to the bemusement of some customs officials) we found the departure lounge. And ran into our gringo friends again.

It was now 8.30pm, but we soon realised that it wouldn’t really have mattered what time we arrived, even if we'd caught the fast train..... all ferries were grounded (or watered perhaps?) and had been for the day.

It was back off through the gale force winds, though this time it was a tail wind, and as Cuz will appreciate this vastly improved our time efficiency.. we made it back to town in 34 seconds. Thankfully Algeciras was not quite the weekender destination that Cordoba or Toledo were and we found accommodation.

Morocco would have to wait.