Travel

Where the soundscapes are visualised

Melilla – a story with a shared narrative

Travel

After visiting Ceuta in December, I was curious to visit the North African city which currently belongs to Spain, and has a rich history of crossing various cultures and influences: Melilla, or Rusadir, as it used to be called since the Phoenician times.

Malaga has a special connection to Melilla (pun intended): the infamous ferry which often leaves a tsunami-like wave is known as ‘El Melillero’. I always wanted to take it, but eventually, I decided to fly there with Iberia’s regional connection, for 0 EUR, thanks to the accumulated mileage from OneWorld I was reminded to use up before mid-April.

Springtime is a great time to visit this part of the world, not only because of a very pleasant, breezy weather, but also because of the natural world waking up and blossoming. I haven’t taken as many bird pics as during my recent sea crossings, but I was still very glad to spot kestrels, seagulls and starlings. Also in NSFW situations. Birdwatching in the springtime might get you in such situations.

My first impression after leaving the airport was that the city is somewhat desolate. The migratory crisis, the tensions at the Spanish – Moroccan border, as well as the complex history of this place made me think about post-colonialism, and all the consequences while being there.

I needed the disconnection, being alone and travel to the other continent, even if only 200 km away from where I live, which is mind-blowing, thinking about how close Malaga is to the African continent. Secluded Melilla was a great choice, at the same time leaving me enough space to discover its historic, natural and architectural peculiarities during the two days I stayed there.

Throughout the centuries, Melilla witnessed the influence of different cultures, and religions, which is visible almost at every step you take, especially in the old town part, called Melilla La Vieja.

I took the liberty to wander around the narrow streets freely, and peeking into different museums. I was particularly impressed by the ethnographic and archaeological one, covering the history of Melilla and its sefardi, amazigh, berber and gypsy cultural influences.

The modern art museum, situated in the Casa del Reloj offers a great contemporary exhibition of local artists and I was especially interested in the works of Cosme Ibáñez Nogueron, who comes from Melilla and gained an international exposure thanks to his interestingly obscure paintings.

Although Melilla shines brightly with its sunny light and crystalline waters, there is undoubtedly dark and complicated history to discover. Currently, it seems to integrate the experiences of ecumenism, diversity and cultural richness and I was blessed with the hospitality of almost everyone I met on my way.

Another highlight of Melilla is its Ensanche district, or ‘The Golden Triangle’ of the modernism architecture. The major creator, Enrique Nieto, a student of Antonio Gaudi, designed both the synagogue, the mosque and the churches, alongside with some impressive buildings full of flowery, Art Nouveau façades.

Next to the Golden Triangle, one can rest in the Parque Hernandez which offers shade and relief from the scorching sun in the day. Naturally, Melilla lives by night and there are fantastic bars and restaurants with the local Rif cuisine to try out.

The diversity is visible not only in the architecture, but also with small gestures, like a bench dedicated to trans visibility which means a lot in a place like this.

All in all, I managed to see a lot during these two days and it was a very complete experience. Before heading off to the airport, I spent an afternoon in the heavenly Aguadu beach, just next to the Moroccan border. I decided to see the infamous border wall, and witness the contrast with the beauty of nature just next to it. Returning to mainland Spain I was thinking a lot about the privilege I have to enjoy the delights of this remote city, when thousands of migrants simply can’t.

In between the land of the sunrise to the land of the sunset

Personal, Travel

Last winter I had many friends visiting and wintering in the sunny land of South of Spain. I usually like to show them both Malaga and Cadiz, to experience different landscapes, cultures, cuisine, and most importantly: the light. One of my friends named Malaga the Land of the Sunrise and Cadiz – the Land of the Sunset. It may have nailed my decision to aim to share life between them both.

Also last winter, I made a transformative experience of setting myself free to do pretty much anything. This journey took me to practice open sea sailing and take an official exam. Part of the experience was sailing for 48h from Malaga to the other side of the Gibraltar Strait. There is no such magic in this world as experiencing the sunset, the night and the sunrise on the boat. And despite some tough situations on that particular cruise, I then fell in love with sailing truly, madly, deeply.

Even though you can prepare for what may be happening at the sea, it may surprise you in all possible ways. Like love or anything in life, I guess. On that particular catamaran crossing, I experienced spotting a pair of booby (yes…) birds during their courtship, huge vessels passing on by unexpectedly, and even falling off one of the crew member to the sea when it got quite rough. Fortunately, it ended up well and the severity of that situation did not discourage me from further pursuing my passion. Especially, that when the weather got better, I had one of the most beautiful experiences of watching the sunset over Gibraltar Rock, spending a night under the stars, and seeing the moon, Venus, and the sun rising from the East. Again, comparing it to some of the best experiences in life.

A few days later, I revisited my favorite birdwatching spots, Tarifa and La Janda, with my friend Marta, who came from the darkness and coldness of Berlin for the very first time to Spain. Together, we were wandering through the Mediterranean Arc trail between Tarifa and Algeciras, passing by the peaceful retinta cows, and overlooking the African continent almost which is only 14 km away from that trail. To rest up, we laid on the flowery grass, sharing a deep, friendship talk.

While walking in Conil, we also witnessed many birds which come by around March time to Europe. It was extremely warm even for the springtime in Andalucia, so birds like swifts, redstarts, and spoonbills arrived earlier than expected. Hoping that 2023 will be a better year for the birds, even though the prognosis is rather dismal.

Focusing on the here and now, and the spectacle of the migration, we were extremely lucky to spot hundreds of (Kentish?) plovers on the short, and a pair of hermit ibises, one of the 10 most endangered species. Several ibises made their home in La Janda, giving some hope to preserving this peculiar species.

Before sunset, Marta and I witnessed a very intimate moment of coexistence of the jackdaws, rock pigeons, kestrels, and ibis around the Castilnovo tower, also the only remnant of the Conilete village, destroyed by the tsunami in the 17th century. These moments, and sharing them with the nearest and dearests make the Cadiz sunsets unforgettable and special anytime I revisit. And make me cherish each sunrise that welcomes me when I return to my equally magical day-to-day in Malaga.

My birthday weekend in Tierra de Cádiz

Personal, Travel

Back to the topic of getting back on track, I recently spent a beautiful weekend in the inland of Cádiz province, triggered by the fact I turned 37 in January. Quite spontaneously, I shared the idea of travelling somewhere not too far from Malaga, on a train, and be surprised whatever happens there, with my closest group of friends.

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After researching the options of staying in a nice finca with a chimney and the stunning mountain views, the proximity from the train station, the culinary and hiking options, my finger pointed at Jimena de la Frontera. One can reach there from Malaga using AVANT or MD trains, with an interchange in Antequera. The timetables are very convenient, as you can easily leave on a Saturday morning and return Sunday evening, to make the most of your weekend. I also liked the way how sustainable and shoestring this plan was.

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I already loved the vibe of this trip when we got together in Maria Zambrano Station, and because not all of my friends knew each other, started mingling and breaking the first taboos already in AVANT train. We were probably those annoying people talking out loud in the mix of Spanish/English and German, grown up type of Erasmus students. And the train route between Ronda and Jimena is just breathtaking, especially when you pass by a very narrow bridge over a river canyon.

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Arriving in Jimena, we actually realised the train stop is in Los Angeles, a village about 20 minutes walk, situated in the proximity of train tracks, with one cafe and several storks nesting. Walking from Los Angeles, you can already spot the white buildings and a castle from 1000 years ago, on top of the village. It is a bit of a steep walk so one-bagging is recommended. We found our vivienda rural or a rural Airbnb quite easily and sat down at the lively street with three bars. We were late for breakfast and too early for the Spanish lunch, but the hospitable owner offered us scrambled eggs with chanterelles, a specialty of Alcornocales, and tasty croquetas with spinach and cheese.

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We engaged over a fascinating topics I will not quote and I could always count on my Spanish friends to share the new vocabulary and phrasal verbs with me. The one I liked the most was about the female friendship by Lola Flores. We then decided to explore Jimena a bit, including its Roman and Moorish ruins and baths (where we found a lipstick, and a lollipop – either geocaching activity or a sign of juerga from last night). Cádiz is so fascinating for its long history, and especially remote places like Jimena de la Frontera, they preserved very special remnants of incredible influences. The village is surrounded by extremely green landscape, to the point you think you are in Ireland, or a place of that kind, not Spain. Wondering how Andalusia would look like without the water crisis.

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We then started celebrating early in the afternoon, much before our planned dinner at the Restaurant La Cuenca. I chose it for its local vibe and vegetarian options (being inclusive of our friends dietary restrictions) and we were still all blown away by its authenticity. We probably came way too early, as around 20:30 there were still people ending up their almuerzo. It looked beautifully chaotic and as if the party will never stop. After a short deliberation, I ordered the best wine on the card and we had way too much food, joining the local bacchanalia.

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After the dinner we were so jolly and engaged in absurd wordplay games and dark stories, elaborated by ourselves and inspired by the remoteness of the village where you could still wonder about the times where wolves and wolverines were venturing out. Nowadays you can only spot the Griffon Vultures, which need a close monitoring and extra food supply, these days, due to the lack of wolves. Not to mention that Alcornocales Natural Park is a famous birdwatching spot, especially for the raptor species and during the migration.

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The next day we chose to hike in the direction of Hozgarganta river, and la Marchenilla. The closeness of the nature depicted itself in a stark view of a goat recently given birth and its baby goat already standing on its feet and enjoying its earthly presence. Not to mention sheep, geese, ducks and such, the encounter with the goat family was definitely *something*.

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We came back to Jimena late afternoon after having a picnic by the river, and mentally preparing to come back to our daily loop in Malaga. Experiencing disconnection was easy in Alcornocales, and I already dream about coming back, and exploring other villages on the train track. Our last view over the horizon, and the Gibraltar Rock showcased itself, like in many other special moments – at least for me and my friend Weronika who shared already a few beautiful winter days over years with me, here on Costa del Sol.

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I honestly loved to share these moments with my fellow passengers, Weronika, Alicia, Rosa, Xiomara and Adrian. Thank you for that beautiful weekend, you made it remarkable.

Cabra – where the owls sing

Travel

Ending up my day early at work, I was really looking forward to discovering yet a new place in Andalucia, a town called Cabra in the Córdoba Province. The November edition of the Andalucia Bird Society took place there, hosted by the known local bird watching guide, and a great animal and nature lover, Antonio Pestana. I was equally excited as my dear friend, Krzysztof (not to be mistaken as ‘Tristan’) visited me that week, and we planned joint birdwatching and road tripping around Andalucia in search of the rare species shortly after the Field Meeting.

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I was particularly intrigued by the evening activity, which started off around the dusk, when Antonio greeted about 10 ABS members in the Hotel Mitra Crisalida, and guided us to the location near the Cross of Aben Abad, known for the presence of the Eagle Owl, alongside with the Little Owl, and Barn Owl. As the sun and the temperature was going down, the owls started off their chants. Antonio Pestana shared then really fun onomatopoeic stories about the owls in Spanish, calling the Little Owl the most selfish animal (singing ‘mio, mio, mio’ all the time), and the bargaining dialogue between the Barn Owls (‘voy, voy’ = ‘I go, I go’) and Nighjars (‘paga, paga, paga’ = ‘pay, pay, pay’) in the summer. Apart from the owl sounds, we could notice large flocks of Songthrushes which are sadly subject to hunting activity around this time of the year, as well as Starlings. When the sun went down we could briefly see the owls taking off to hunt for their prey but most of the ABS members, used to the summer temperatures, were freezing cold as the European cold stream was notable in Cabra, too!

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In the evening some of the ABS members met up for a dinner, and some, like myself, went to discover the wonders of Cabra, which is a very interesting town full of tapas bars, stunning castle, churches and squares. Funnily enough the name ‘Cabra’ does not come from the Spanish name for a ‘goat’ but for one of the Moorish founders, Al-Qabri. The town has been heavily destroyed during the Civil War in Spain but thankfully, preserved its rich history and Moorish influences. As a sightseeing bonus, on the way back to the hotel, I even spotted a Little Owl hanging around a road sign! Too bad it was too dark to take a picture of her.

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In the morning, we met up for breakfast and greeted familiar and new ABS faces before we headed off to Bailon River Canyon. It was extremely cold for most of us, so I felt grateful to myself for bringing a pair of gloves, and a winter hat. Down by the Canyon, we could mostly spot Starlings and an interesting Iberian Orix family. They seemed to be ready for mating or fighting, who knows. The spot was stunning itself and we could also see some birds of prey from the distance.

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Our next stop was set around the road to Cueva de los Murcielagos, passing by a picturesque town of Zuheros, nominated as the one of the most beautiful White Villages in Spain. There we left off our cars for a short walk where we could greet the pair of Griffon Vultures from a close up location, as well as Stonechats, Common Redstarts and Robins. We were particularly curious about the beautiful bird, a Black Wheatear which is a special friend and specialty sighting of Antonio Pestana.

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To meet up with the Black Wheatears, we moved on from that location to Cabra South, nearby the emblematic Balcón de Andalucia, Ermita Virgen de la Sierra and followed Antonio to his special spot for Black Wheatears. They did not seem to pass by for a long period of time, yet we could see Red Kite and Griffon Vultures once again. When we almost gave up on the Black Wheatear’s sighting, they suddenly appeared, posing to our photographs with their beautiful black tails with a white spot. We also enjoyed greatly them calling each other and hanging around a close up location.

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Happy about the sightings, stunning locations and a great guidance of Antonio Pestana, we all cheered with a glass of vino fino, produced by Antonio’s family and moved to a local venta for lunch. The afternoon activities were dedicated to the Barn Owl Project which I sadly missed, as I moved on to another location, in search of more birds that afternoon.

Ceuta – on the other side of the sea

Travel

Longing (saudade) and curiosity go hand in hand, in my opinion. I remember that experiencing the combination of both, started quite early for me. When as a child I looked at the sea, I was wondering about the distant lands which are far beyond the horizon.

I could not see what is behind the horizon but nowadays, I live in a truly special place, which is the closest strait between European and African continent. When the day is bright, even from my terrace, I can see the Atlas mountains and wonder, if Malaga mountains can be seen from the other side equally well. 

Recently, I decided to cross the Gibraltar strait and visit Ceuta, an autonomous Spanish city on the African shore. Previously, it belonged to many other countries, including Portugal, Reino Nazari, dating back to Romans and Phoenicians. The influences and the long history is visible almost at every step you take on the peninsula.

The name Ceuta derives from Septem > Septa > Sebta describing the seven mountains on its territory. Its architecture is dominated by the fortifications and Portuguese influences, so much so, that I could easily forget I am still in Spain. Also the city centre is so steep it somewhat reminded me of walking around Lisbon. 

The city walls are very impressive, and you can visit them as well as the rich, complex history and art museum of Ceuta. What I found the most impressive though is the microclimate and the natural variety in the greener parts of the peninsula. Also, as I visited Ceuta in December, the city centre was beautifully decorated around its main monuments and attractions, such as Puerta de Africa, Parque Maritimo and Plaza de España. 

You can get to Ceuta from mainland Spain on the boat, ferry or using a convenient helicopter, connecting the city with Malaga within only 25 minutes! The passage itself is an adventure, especially in the winter when the weather may get stormy. It was stunning to pass by the Gibraltar Rock and leave the European shores behind, and then to cross multiple vessels and migratory birds in the Strait. 

Arriving to the African shore, you can already experience higher temperatures and humidity, and hear some very new birds around, including bulbuls, hiding around the bushes. I truly recommend a walk around the peninsula and the Hacho fortress where you can smell the blossoming flowers, trees and observe the colonies of Audouine seagulls, nesting around the green shores of Ceuta. 

The circular route will take you around the Santa Catalina isle, Punta Almina lighthouse to San Amaro park which is home to rare bird species, stunning trees and art. Now, since this is not a political blog, I will abstain from commenting the tensions around this location.

Of course, this is a complicated place for multiple reasons and while I am allowed to travel freely around the location, many cannot and lose their lives on the way to the rich Europe.

I choose to cherish the multicultural side of the place, of many religions and backgrounds living next to each other, hopefully in respect and dignity towards each other. And that includes, feeling safe as a woman, travelling solo. 

 

Tarifa – in between Europe and Africa

Personal, Travel

Last month I returned to Tarifa for a couple of days, where I have already ventured out a while ago, in search of its (pirate) treasures. Also, this time I managed to rent out a beautiful rural apartment in El Pozuelo, a nearby village which is close enough to the historical old town, and sufficiently far away from the civilization, to wake up with the sound of bird songs, and go to sleep hearing the flapping wings of some larger birds like egrets, or cranes.

On my way to the rural apartment, I already met a friendly, fellow birdwatcher who helped me spot a beautiful pair of sanderlings foraging in La Jara river. During this 3,5 km walk I then repeated at least twice a day, I would always keep my camera ready for action, just in case I saw a worthwhile situation to document. October is still such a great month to witness different migration routes in this extraordinary place, just 14 km away from the African shore.

During my stay there were numerous goldfinches gatherings around the Atlantic meadow, before they passed the Gibraltar Strait in search of the warmer temperature, food and water in Africa. Although this bird species is considered an all-year resident in Spain, I could witness that some goldfinch flocks dare to take the passage. Similarly to some other passerines and larks.

I worked pretty intensely during the week and in order to recharge after / before work, I did long hike trails along the shores of the Gibraltar Strait, a magical place where one can see and hear the boats passing by, and look ahead to spot Tanger and Ceuta on the other side. If you are lucky, you can even spot a dolphin or a whale, while for them this passage is often deadly, due to a large number of vessels.

And I realized how the natural landscape always impresses me, especially in the morning and in the evening, when the animals can be seen in the most active situations. Here is a flock of cattle egrets collaborating with the Iberian cow herd. Sometimes, starlings would join them.

It looked like as if, for each cow there was about 2-3 egrets commensals and they would closely mimic each other. I have never seen egrets as close, which gave me a great opportunity to take some very detailed pictures while observing that co-op in real time.

Tarifa is not only a natural paradise (in danger!), but also one of the most strategic locations in Europe, highlighted by the presence of the bunkers and maritime towers from the distant past.

Los Lances lagoon at this time of the year is a fascinating birdwatching site with hundreds of waders of different sizes cohabiting. The lagoon commensals specifically benefit from tiny shrimp species, a local specialty of the Cadiz cuisine for humans, too.

I could speak so much about the magical sunrises in Malaga, and sunsets in Cadiz – that is probably why I am spending so much time in between these both locations, thanks to the benefits of remote working from different parts of Spain. Practically, you can wake up in Malaga and go to sleep in Cadiz, which would be a dream come true.

Finally, I visited La Isla de las Palomas (also known as the Island of Tarifa) thanks to the Andalucian Bird Society field trip. Currently, this Southernmost Continental Europe peninsula remains as a military object and is only subject to Guardia Civil’s admission. Our guide for the day, Javier, identified three types of migratory bird routes: from Europe to Africa (passerines, goldfinches, kites and even a stunning Eurasian Black Vulture), from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean (Balearic Sheawaters, Gannets, Puffins), and vice versa (Cory’s Shearwaters – known to me so well from Ilha das Flores).

The day passed by with some stunning sightings (e.g. mom and baby gannet making their way to the Mediterranean). To top this fantastic trip up, in the afternoon, before leaving to the next stop in Cadiz, I could witness a mysterious haze which overtook Tarifa for a few hours, turning it into a movie scenery, with a very original soundtrack of the ship horns.

El Día de Sopas Perotas

Music, Travel

I started off the first weekend of October in the most peculiar, and absolutely fantastic way, at the same time. Woke up with the loud birds and the magic morning sunrise of Malaga, and headed off to catch C1, and later C2 train to go all the way up to Alora, together with my friends who love both DJing and nature. And on that day we would focus on the nature… in theory.

The trip was sponsored by a very thoughtful initiative of the Spanish government, to grant free commuting train ticket from September 2022 until the end of the year. The only requirement to get the ticket for free is to use up the ticket for a minumum of 16 trips, after which 10 EUR of the initial fee is reimbursed. This way, people are incentivised to use the public transportation instead of their own vehicle. Which in the current inflation and gas pricing climate, makes even more sense. Well done, Spain!

On our way we did not plan much, just to see the beautiful pueblo blanco, its surroundings, ermitas, a castle and have some tapas. What we found out though, stepping out from the C2 train, was a GREAT fiesta. This time dedicated to a soup: a famous sopa perota, typical from the mountains of Malaga, made out of vegetables, white wine and bread.

Perota is an adjective describing the inhabitant of Alora, just like maño – maña describes someone from Zaragoza. For centuries, mountains of Malaga have been a rather hostile place to live, with equally hot summers and harsh winters, so the dish had bring enough calories for hard working folks. There is a beautiful homenage to La Faenera, a working class woman carrying heavy buckets, in one of the main streets of Alora.

As I’m writing this, a few day has passed since the Soup Day in Alora, and I am on my way to a completely different destination, Barcelona, on a high-speed bullet train, passing through Alora, Antequera and other familiar places in the mountain range – wondering how stunning it is that Spain combines so much modern advancements and tradition, at the same time.

On the Soup Day, we also witnessed a fascinating journey to the history of Alora, dating back to ancient times where there were no refrigerators and the food, or wine was stored below the ground, in a thickly isolated containers, now available to admire passing by the peculiar Mirilla Pepe Rosas.

My friends also introduced me to the typical, rhytmic music of the mountains of Malaga, los verdiales, famous for its rhytmic crótalo, tambourines and energetic singing and dancing. As we followed the local Panda de los Verdiales of Alora, we thought about the all-encompassing need of humans to unite in the rhythm. Be it verdiales, jungle, or house music. As I attended an open air techno party the day after, I kept hearing verdiales in the background of my thoughts.

It was not all about the sopa perota – there were local stands with wine and olive tasting (the one and only olive from Spain with a DOP signature, aloreña), pitufo con lomo a la manteca colora’a (don’t ask what is it, it’s simply tasty as long as you don’t know!), art work from women’s associations, typical pottery for the soup and much more. Day-drinking from 10 am also sounds like something one could easily do on such a day.

Instead of hiking, we ended up going with the flow of the Soup Day – from stand to stand, interacting with friendly and funny strangers, and even Canal Sur Noticias. That later my friend’s mom watched.

We were so impressed with the town, its artwork at each step, stunning landscapes and peculiar history. Yet, we did not manage to try the famous soup. The line for 6000 portions went on for hours, making it a great excuse to party, listen to music and spend a lovely, warm October day outside.

What was so special about it? Sharing moments with your friends, spontaneously discovering traditions which have been preserved and celebrated by the generations, in a perfect sunny weather, not too hot anymore. Going to a place A and ending up in a place Z. And that in such a traditional, rural town, there was a safe LGBTQI+ space, same as the elderly, youngsters, guiris, a guy without a T-shirt, or anyone else. This is what I love about Spain: the feeling of belonging, the relaxed inclusion of whomever you are, as long as you’re respectful of others and the place you’re in. There are still so many things which are lacking, more public transportation included, but where we are now, it is not bad either.

Autumn bird migration in La Janda

Travel

After spending most of the summer up in Poland and Germany, like a migratory bird, for various reasons (not nesting though), I finally came back to Spain in September. After a sticky, humid summer, September brings pleasant temperatures while still allowing to indulge oneself on the beach and plunge easily to the sea. There are other reasons why I love this season in Andalucia so much: I can still do snorkelling and wave ‘hi’ to fish, while there is still a lot of birds up on the skies and in the remains of humid, salty marshes.

These birds are either on its way to Africa, or preparing for a wintering season here in Spain. The only sad note to self I made is that the swifts are long gone, after a very hot and unpredictable summer, and they no longer wake me up with their energetic hunt for the insects. And as a matter of fact, I then notice the painful presence of mosquitos. Even more important to prepare the nest box and save the swifts the next season!

Since I missed the summer get-togethers of the Andalucian Bird Society, I was very excited to see everyone again for the Autumn Migration meetup in La Janda and Barbate Marches. As I arrived almost late by bus to the village of Tahivilla, and quickly ordered a proper breakfast in Hotel/Restaurante Apolo IX, it was so nice to see familiar and new faces excited for the day ahead of us. We had about 11 cars altogether and decided to divide into two smaller groups to ensure optimal birdwatching conditions. I joined the group led by Frank O’Hair and we started off by the route ‘up to the stinky farm’ (aren’t all farms a bit smelly, by the way?).

We stopped several times by La Janda canals to notice the absolute birding wonders. As the mornings tend to be cloudy due to the Atlantic Ocean’s presence, we first spotted colourful red legs of a red partridge, followed by a bunch of stonechats, corn buntings, wood warblers, zitting cisticola, and redstarts. In the misty air, we noticed crested larks, hoping to see Calandra larks too. Instead, we saw a cheerful group of Spanish sparrows, residing in the bushes. As the sky became clearer, we spotted birds of prey: black-winged kites, common and lesser kestrels as well as griffon vultures, at their cruising altitude, not too bothered about anyone else, not even crashing into a flock of glossy ibis.  

A more dramatic scenario happened to a honey buzzard, notoriously mocked by the group of lesser kestrels. How come you can tell a lesser from a common kestrel? Lesser kestrels vary by the size, colours but also by its behaviour. They live and breed in larger groups than the common kestrels, and they seem to use a group strategy to scare off larger predators. On that day we also saw a number of Montagu’s and marsh harriers, often hard to tell especially when they’re juvenile. And on top of that, there was an impressive Spanish imperial eagle, relatively well to spot in La Janda.

Our next stop was next to the pump, which offered a great observing spot for cattle and little egrets. Dozens if not hundreds of them inhabited the neighbouring trees where we had an opportunity to observe their cohabitant behaviour and plenty of juvenile examples. Other wading and impressive species noted around this location included storks, cranes, and spoonbills gathering before crossing the Gibraltar Strait. We also noticed the ongoing presence of jackdaws, raven, collared dove and a wood pigeon, varying slightly in their mourning calls (by one syllable).

Before we paused for a packed lunch picnic next to the shaded area of the canal with two kingfishers and plenty of swallows, we saw a lovely greylag goose couple surrounded by the egrets taking off. At the lunch spot we did hear a penduline tit (Twitter notification sound!), gallinule (aka swamphen) and a hoopoe. After our lunch we briefly met with the other group, which reported fantastic sightings in the Barbate Marshes area and we exchanged some birding tips for La Janda.

They were soooo right: Barbate Marshes were such a treat to our eyes, starting off with a plethora of common ring and Kentish plovers by the shore and soon, spotting a pair of Eurasian curlews resting at one of the isles. Further up we had a lovely view over the greater and lesser flamingos, and an isle full of gulls, including Audouin gull, black-headed gull (with a white head around this season), slender-billed and a yellow legged gull, all of them in one place. I still envy anyone capable of telling a juvenile gull species from each other, definitely a note to self and a 2023 challenge to work on!

The sounds of black-winged stilts got us to look into a part where they cohabited with gracious pied avocets and lively sanderlings, little and Temmick’s stints, dunlins, turnstones, ruffs and common redshanks, sandpipers and snipes. At the end of our day we also counted a lesser and common tern and a common buzzard hovering above us.

The day ended up looking at the spoonbill showing off her beak from various perspectives, which itself is fascinating. We were also very perseverant looking for a little owl, allegedly residing in the local tamarind trees. Instead, we managed to see a female black redstart and a pied flycatcher before we called it a day. We said our goodbyes and left passing through a cattle herd coming back to their farm.

I dreamed of birds that night, and the day after my eye sharpened so much for them, or I was just nicely hallucinating. Staying in my beloved Conil de la Frontera I took the opportunity to run my usual 5K at the beach shore, alongside the juvenile, gregarious ringed plovers. They were faster, and I let them score. It was a great weekend, location and both human and natural company to recommend to anyone at this time of the year visiting Andalucia.

Tracing back to the North

Personal, Travel

Summer is so beautiful up North, and this blog witnessed many times the short intensity of the season, which I explored in different locations over years. Living all the way South of Europe, it is exciting to pack light and experience the hot and sunny weather also thousands of miles away. This is the tribute to my recent trip to Poland, where I re-visited the Northern landscapes, starting in Pomerania, travelling through Warmia, Mazury, and ending up in Sejny, bordering with Lithuania and Belarus. 

I have returned to Suwalszczyzna region regularly over years thanks to my partner and his family. Each time I discovered something new, and mysterious about this remote, green region spotted with lakes. Since there is no airport nearby, we mostly choose travelling by train to get there from main cities of Poland, as I find it very relaxing to window-watch the landscapes and its inhabitants. Summertime is also a great season to spot birds of prey, waders, among the emblematic bird of the Polish summer: a white stork. It is interesting how welcome are storks, while egrets or ospreys are not. It may be a good metaphor about how certain refugees are welcome in Poland, while others are not.

While visiting the Foundation Borderland in Czesław Miłosz’ Manor in Krasnogruda, besides witnessing some impressive art exhibitions of its residents (currently hosting Ukrainian painters and poets), we could see how children are discovering the stunning, local nature through their senses. Because of its remoteness and forestal density, the region hosts hundreds of bird species, and this educational centre teaches even the youngest children how to distinguish, and protect the fellow inhabitants. 

On our way through the region, we visited Wigry National Park, full of well-prepared hiking and bike trails. Last year we almost completed a 70 km ride, failing only to immerse our bikes onto a full-on downhill ride through dense forest. Nearby, there is a famous old monastery of Wigry, with a fascinating exhibition of a daily life of its monks, including the catacombs where some of the buried ones are on display.  

Wandering through the woods, one may also find the memorials of the past. Inhabitants of various origins, religions, which settled in and then vanished throughout the past centuries. However, the traditions prevailed in language, gastronomy, and remnants of the architecture. Thanks to the work of the Foundation Borderland, we could witness the Klezmer Orchestra, performing at the White Synagogue of Sejny. Their sounds brought joy, sadness and all the emotions at once. 

Sailing on different types of vessels and boats, swimming in the refreshing, ice-cold water of the deep, post-glacial lakes, we enjoyed this short trip a lot. And quite recently, given the updates from the well-known ancestry platform, I found out that my intertwined family roots may be tracing back all the way to the borderland of Poland, Lithuania and Belarus. 

Moving sand, ebbs and flows

Personal, Travel

Last month I visited Poland for an extended period of time and a series of family reunions, wedding celebration of my friends, and spending quality time after all. The timing was sensible too, as a lot of important matters happened in my family during this period. Even more so, I was so happy to stay with them for a few days in the magical place: Słowiński National Park on the Baltic Sea coast.

In June, it was still a fairly reclusive place and I managed to walk more than 30 kms on the fantastic trails next to the dunes, sea and divine forests. Słowiński National Park is a vast coastal area including the surrounding lakes Łebsko, Gardno and Dołgie, which were created from the bay areas by the ‘moving dunes’ formed by the currents, winds and erosion. There is nothingness and so many things to see at the same time. Like a perfect meditation.

Walking towards a 16 km beach trail to Rowy, you can spot remnants of the forest inundated by the moving sands and there is evidence of having at least one village, Boleniec, covered entirely by the migration of sandy dunes. I managed to explore also the forest trail towards the lighthouse of Czołpino. It offers fabulous panoramic views towards the Rowokół mountain (known for Pagan rituals), the sea and all of the surrounding lakes and forests.

Słowiński National Park means a lot to me: it is a place where my father used to take me as a child and there was literally no one in the area, as it was a remote, post-military terrain with a lot of protected areas. I saw the beauty of nature, my first bird sightings and the Baltic coast covered in the snowy and icy layer, too. It was a magical place for all my family where I spent a good portion of my summer holidays and always felt the mystery of the abandoned villages, fantasising about the life under the sand.

This made me think about the nature of life and death, and the passage of the sand, as in the time capsule. Nowadays one can wander around the swampy Łebsko lake and discover the restored village of Kluki where all the roads end and the lake water ebbs and flows to the historically preserved housings. There is nothing left from the time where the native inhabitants, Słowińcy, used to live there – only a heritage museum. Now, it’s been over 11 years that my father passed away and I didn’t dare to revisit the place which connects me so much with his memories. I felt very connected and complete going there once again, reconnecting after the grieving period.

I also managed to visit Słupsk, a town where my parents met and we had a lot of friends, so I naturally spent time with them during my childhood. Now most of them are gone, too, but the town is flourishing with culture, lively city centre and I did not feel sad for most of the stay. Naturally, it was always a beautiful town but riddled with problems.

I was really impressed how green, cheerful and beautiful restoration it underwent from the time that I remember the town as post-industrial, unemployment-ridden town not living to its full potential and fantastic location close to the sea, national park and lake district where eagles, owls and wading birds nest during the summer. I do believe the recent

I only spent four days in the area, and still realized how many memories rest within my brain for this special place. The memory of the smells of the pine forests, the feeling of the sand under my feet and blowing to my face, and the music of the sea wind, choppy waves brought up the best, childhood happiness time to me, what I needed now.