The levante has been blowing for days. It keeps us all inside and dusts the town in a fine sand. Kites are grounded. Bars are quiet and restaurants don’t bother with terrace tables. Noisy fronds flap horizontally from leaning palms along the street that descends into Tarifa from the highway. It’s like a ghost town, complete with howling.
Wind has names. According to where it comes from it is the levante – a gentle wind that rises around the Balearic Islands in a Mediterranean stupor and then reaches gale force in these Straits, the sirocco – a hurricane of sand from the sahara, the ostro – a warm and rainy Adriatic breeze, the libeccio that pummels Corsican summers, the poniente that blows in through the Straits from the west and keeps the kitesurfers aloft, the mistral of France and its southern shores and the tramontane which blows in over mountains from the north like a cold barbarian. More