For the last week, I've been meaning to blog about last weekend's trip to Morocco and Gibraltar. Unfortunately, I had a test this week and instead spent all of my time studying for that (grade still unknown).
My Swedish friend Ida and I decided a while back that we must go to Morocco as it was so close to where we are. To be only a few hours from Africa and an Arab country and not go would be a shame. As time is also winding down on how long I am in Spain legally and can thus come and go freely, this trip had to be taken soon. Thus, we went last weekend.
In Spain, the concept of time is totally different than in the States. For example, our train left at 6:50 a.m.. Although this would be considered somewhat early for a Saturday morning in the States, this is still, to a degree, considered Friday night in Spain. By that I mean, the streets are still filled with party go-ers and those walking home from the bars (which close at 7 a.m.). I tend to think of Spanish time as 2-3 hours later than American time. So, a 6:50 a.m. departure would be similar to a 4:50 a.m. departure in the States. In other words, no one could believe we were getting up that early and there was virtually no one on the train.
In regards to the train, it was very nice and somewhat space shuttle like. Sliding glass doors on motion detectors, lots of white plastic furnishings, very clean. I like it a lot better than traveling via bus although the buses are also clean. They, however, don't have bathrooms or vending machines. After 4 hours on the train, we arrived in Algeciras, Spain.
View Larger MapAlgeciras was the port city in which we'd planned to catch a ferry over to Tanger, Morocco, Africa. We'd researched all the ferrys and determined which one was least expensive. Upon our arrival, we had exactly one hour until the ferry departure time and did not know exactly where to buy tickets. Thus, we had to hurry.
After a little walking, we eventually found an independent ticket salesman who sold for the desired ferry. The online price we'd found was 33 euros but, according to this gentleman, the price was actually 59 euros. "Ok, fine," we thought. Give us the damn tickets. We have a ferry to catch. Thus we bought our tickets and left to make our way to the ferry. Unfortunately, there were no signs as to how to get to the ferry and it was a bit of a walk. We had to ask directions which was challenging with the language barrier. Eventually, however, we made it to the ferry and through customs effectively.
I had hoped that, while on the ferry, we'd be able to sit outside for at least a portion of the one and a half hour ride (and by one and a half hours, they meant more like 2 hours 15 minutes). Unfortunately, this ferry did not have outdoor seating (our evening ferry did but it was much too cold). It did, however, have comfortable seating in either couch or table with chair form and a small cafeteria.
While on the ferry, the information desk made an announcement that we should be sure to get customs forms and fill them out. Like good travelers, we did. Unfortunately, there was more to this process, we would soon learn. When exiting the ferry, an official checked our passport. It had been checked at Algeciras and we'd had no problems. In Morocco though, there was a problem. According to the guy at the dock, the police on the ferry were supposed to take our customs papers and stamp our passport. What? What police on the ferry? Since when do you get your passport stamped while in the mode of transportation? No matter, we had to return to the ferry. We were told to go to the information desk and wait for the police. The man at the desk said it would be 10 minutes. A few minutes later, a man walked by, and after a brief exchange in both Spanish and English, we discovered that he was the police and was just getting ready to leave the ship. No one had told him that we were there waiting. Had he left without noticing the two confused blondes, we would have been stuck on the ship the entire day.
Because he was getting ready to leave the ship, the policeman did not have his passport stamps. He said we would have to go down to his room on a lower deck of the ship. Yes, this sounded shady. We're in Africa and the guy who says he's the policeman says we must go to his room to get our "passports stamped." When we got there, he opened the door and let us in. He told us to sit down on one of the two beds. He then started to lock the door. Our jaws dropped. Then he said, "I just joking! Ah ha ha!" Yeah, not funny, dude. He really was a nice guy (approximately my age) and got us set up lickety split.
Our port in Morocco is the new port of the city of Tanger. Unfortunately, this means that it is a 30-40 minute bus ride from the port to the city. If you're keeping track, that's a 20 minute walk to the train, plus a 4 hour train ride, plus an hour to buy ferry tickets and walk to the port, plus a 2+ hour ferry ride, plus a 40 minute bus ride. Yes, I used almost all possible modes of transportation in only the first half of the day.
Arriving in the city of Tanger was crazy. It was like something seen in a movie. As we tried to exit the bus, we were smothered by locals wanting to be our tour guides. These people did not abide by American etiquette regarding personal space. No. It was 20 men smashed against themselves and us vying for the right to be our tour guide. Somehow, as we got off the bus, we did so with a family from England and were shoved the same direction they were, toward a tour guide who was speaking English. He was licensed by the government, had the associated paperwork, and was wiling to show our "family" the city for 20 euros. As it was mass chaos, our new British/Swedish/American family agreed.
It actually turned out to be a very good deal. Our guide, Achmed (last name unknown) showed us all around the city and kept the aggressive vendors at bay. He took us up to the Kasbah (castle) and to the Medina (market). We stopped at a spice shop and another store that sold traditional Moroccan crafts. We were there for about 2 hours and that was the perfect amount of time as it was a very intense place.
One thing I did notice in Tanger was that all the local women (every single one I saw) were wearing traditional Muslim garments including a veil (hijab or hiyab in Spanish) and had their bodies totally covered despite the heat. Both men and women frequently wore the traditional Moroccan slippers with pointy toes similar to what one would picture on a genie. One unexpected thing was the countryside of Morocco. It looked like Ireland. It was very green with low rolling mountains.
After our tour, Achmed took us back to the bus so we could return to the port and thus to Spain. Apparently, there was some confusion about the time and when we attempted to leave the customs building to board the ferry, we were told our ferry did not depart in 20 minutes but rather one hour and 20 minutes. To this I responded, without thinking first, "Oh shit!" The guards at customs really enjoyed this and repeated it many times over the next hour and 20 minutes. (I would like to take this opportunity to thank my mom for giving me this mouth and thus providing the men of Morocco with laughs for several hours).
The ferry ride back to Spain was not calm. Oh no. When one looked out the windows, one would see the lights of the nearby city, then the ferry would pitch so much that the windows would sink so low that one would see all black. At this point, however, I think I was too tired to get sea sick.
It was also at this time that we noticed something on the ferry ticket receipt. Although our tickets had been 59 euros each and should thus total 118 euros, my credit card was actually charged 146 euros. Many bad words came out of our mouths after that discovery. Jerk!
We were very tired when we arrived at the port 2 hours later or at approximately 11 p.m.. We did not know where our hotel was located and thus, upon exiting the port authority and seeing a taxi, decided we'd just let him take us there rather than walk around looking for it. When he told him the name and address of our hotel, he said, "No problem, it's close to here." (Actually he said, "No pasa nada. Es cerca.") We got in the taxi and drove to the end of the driveway of the port. The cab driver then proceeded to tell us, "Look there, it's just across the road. You can get out here" Yes, the bastard drove us to the end of the driveway and charged us 5.50 euros for it. Thanks, buddy. You could have just told us to walk 100 yards due north and we'd run into our hotel.
At this point, we checked in to our hotel and were exhausted. We'd been trying, for the last several weeks, to plan a trip to Lisbon for Easter. It'd been presenting us with several problems regarding transportation. After the challenging day we had getting to, from, and around Morocco, we decided to abort the mission to Lisbon. Morocco had costed more than expected and we were tired of the challenges. We were glad we went but we weren't ready to do a big trip again in two weeks, especially one that was going to require multiple trains and buses to get there.
In all, I'm very glad I went to Morocco. In some ways, it was what I expected. In other ways, it was completely different. And for Pete's sake, I've been to Africa!
Coming up next . . . Gibraltar . . . a little bit of England on the Spanish coast.
