Gaze across the blue Mediterranean at Europe while feeling the vast African continent breathing down your neck, and then remember, you’re in Spain. Confused? You wouldn’t be the first. Hidden behind the southernmost of the two pillars Hercules dropped at the entrance to this civilization-cradling sea lies this tiny Spanish enclave you never learned about…
“Travel, set out and head for pastures new. Life tastes richer when you’ve road-worn feet. No water that stagnates is fit to drink for only that which flows is truly sweet.” – Imam Al-Shafi A pilgrimage to the tomb of the medieval world’s greatest traveller and chronicler, Ibn Battuta #nonotfar http://nonotfar.blogspot.com.es/search/label/Ibn%20Battutah?m=1 . . . .…
For many this was the end of the line, a place at the end of Africa to get lost in purple hazes and naked lunches. But long before Burroughs and Hendrix added their hipness, a local boy took the Tangerine brand far beyond the Levant. A medieval gap-year wanderer who saw it as a beginning…
I’ve chased Ibn Battutah’s ghost through Yemen, Syria, Turkey, Libya, Spain and even Cambodia. Each country has provided fleeting glimpses of the medieval wanderer, from his lions in Aleppo to castles in Fuengirola. Have a read about a recent pilgrimage to this traveler’s tomb in Tangier in the Sydney Morning Herald.