God I love a container port! We’ve basically walked the entire circumference of Cadiz in the last few days and the culmination of our labours is to walk around the port area on a rather warm day. The objective of the mighty striding is a dockside bar called Manolo’s; it is of course closed, but we are not downhearted as we shall simply turn round and walk back along the walkway that circles the whole city past the docks that the first explorers of the ‘New World’ set sail from.
We wonder what our history would look like if they couldn’t have been bothered to undertake the voyage into the great unknown – like Manolo couldn’t be bothered to open his fucking bar today…
On a trip to Rotterdam some time ago our generous hosts asked us what we’d like to see; Delft? The Kinderdyke? The Maritime Museum? The Indonesian restaurants? No. I want to see the container port. Now.
Why do you never see any containers being moved or unloaded? What happens to them when they’re empty? Like pallets, does some bloke take them away for a tenner?
These are the things that trouble me at night.
On the way back we pass two young chaps, one of whom is giving the other a handjob. They can be seen in the photo of Ashly in the top right hand corner, under a Tamarind tree. I send the picture to the local police as I’m sure they will act upon such a public outrage and have these young perverts hunted down and strung from the tallest tree.
