Tangier - My Introduction to Morocco
Written: Jun 06 '00 (Updated Jun 06 '00)
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Product Rating:
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Pros: Not as threatening as some publications led us to believe.
Cons: While it isn't threatening, Morocco is not the best place to go for a relaxing vacation.
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| kifwebe's Full Review: Tangier |
We finally arrived at Tangier, backpacks in tow and well informed about the caveats of travel in Morocco. Our ferry from Spain had been delayed, and we would arrive in Morocco over 3 hours after the scheduled time. Up to this point neither of us had ever experienced a culture so vastly different from our own, which filled us with both excitement and fear of the unknown. We had heard just about every horror story and urban legend related to travel in Morocco by now, but we hoped to debunk those as we had done earlier in Sicily, the unexpected highlight of our trip up to this point. It would be my first expedition on the African continent, and although culturally it would more closely resemble the Middle East, the prospect of visiting Africa filled me with exhilaration.
My girlfriend and I stepped off of the ship into the dark, empty port. The hair on the back of my neck was standing at full attention and my heart pounded erratically. I tried to look as if I was at ease although I'm sure it was an ineffective attempt. A casual glance at Sarah let me know that she was going through some of the same emotions, but she managed a smile and a deep sigh.
Luckily we had befriended a couple of cheery British travelers on the ferry, Dan and Scott, who had been to Morocco before. They were headed to Marrakesh that evening, and graciously volunteered to be our tour guides for the evening. This would definitely make our transition much easier, and I for one was grateful for their company.
We passed through Moroccan customs, and headed toward the exit to the port, all the while listening intently to Dan's stories about his previous trips to Morocco and the many adventures he experienced over the years. He assured us that Moroccans were friendly, especially the Berbers who while making up a minority of the current day population, were native to the region. In fact, the two of them were returning to Morocco to stay with a Berber family who they had met a year earlier, and who had invited them back as their guests. Apparently it was quite common for Berber families to share everything they had, even if by western standards their accommodation and possessions were meager. It was nice to hear of their generosity, which was far from meager by any standard.
As we exited the port, Scott smiled and said, "Now it begins," which prompted another nervous exchange of glances between Sarah and I. Passing through the gates, we were greeted by what seemed like hundreds of taxi drivers, all fighting each other for our business and insisting that without a cab we would be mugged and robbed, if not tired by the time we reached our destination. We were both impressed and surprised to hear a prevalence of English, and Sarah and I followed in the wake of our newly found British friends, intent to let them make any and all executive decisions for the group. We passed by each taxi driver, politely declining their services and rapidly approaching Tangier's medina, the oldest and most "Moroccan" part of town.
The streets were bustling with activity. Street vendors were in full force, and Morocco was beginning to grow on both of us. It was something of a sensory overload with overwhelming smells, which alternated between freshly baked bread and pile after pile of donkey manure, and sights ranging from children playing in the streets without shoes to women in traditionally conservative dress. We felt as if we were on center stage, as our huge backpacks, strange clothing, and light skin stuck out like a Hawaiian shirt at a black tie event.
We were cautious in our exchanges with the locals, careful not to decline services in a condescending manner or with an angry tone. Then I, in my inexperience, made the mistake of mentioning to a would-be guide that we were all hungry. He insisted he knew the best restaurant in town, and that he could take us there on foot. It was nearly impossible not to take him up on the offer, and after a silent conference amongst our group we shrugged our shoulders and decided to follow.
He was a middle-aged man, very kind in nature despite his persuasiveness, and never let a smile leave his nearly toothless face. He was aware of Morocco's recent crack down on unofficial guides, and made it clear that he would lead us to the restaurant and leave us for the evening to enjoy our dinner. We had no reason not to believe this, and listened to his stories as we wound through the confusing maze of streets in Tangier's medina. As it turned out, he informed us that Morocco's King Mohamed VI was in town for the day, which explained the unusually intense buzz of activity.
He was actually very pleasant, and was full of life. He was very proud of his country, and had many questions about the U.S. We were a bit uneasy at times because some of the streets he chose were a bit dark and seemed a little threatening. We remained alert, but he knew the streets better than we ever would, so by this point we had placed our trust in him.
We arrived at the restaurant, and although he made no inquiries about money, we thanked him and gave him a bit of money for his trouble. At that point we felt that the service was worth it, because the restaurant seemed nice and the restaurant owner greeted us with huge smiles. The prices were very reasonable, on the order of $1.50 per entrée, and by the time our food reached the table we gobbled it up with pleasure. Being a consummate American, I ordered a Coca-Cola with my tagine, a traditional stew of potatoes, carrots, and other seasonal vegetables, which I requested without the traditional lamb meat. It was quite delicious, and we whiled away over two hours getting to know Dan and Scott, who we were more than happy to have met.
By that time, they were about an hour from leaving us in Tangier. Their train was to leave from the station at 10:30 that evening, so our conversation would have to come to an end. We paid our bill and headed back out into the streets of the medina, still bustling with activity. We felt a lot more at ease in Morocco now, and were looking forward to exploring it for the next few weeks.
Dan and Scott suggested that we head directly to Marrakesh as soon as possible, since it was in their opinion the treasure of Morocco's cities. We had read about Marrakesh and the famous Djemaa El Fna, the square at the heart of its medina, and its acrobats, storytellers, snake charmers, and mystics were at the core of our intrigue for the journey that stood before us. When the four of us came up with the idea to share an overnight sleeper car to Marrakesh, Sarah and I decided to follow their advice and start our adventure there. Our only fear was that after seeing it our excitement for the rest of Morocco would wane, and we would lose our motivation to continue to explore its vast treasures. Nothing could have been farther from the truth, but at that point we had no way of knowing what was in store for us. We were just happy to have had such a smooth transition into what we had read would be a harsh and unfriendly place. Our introduction to Morocco assured us that we were definitely embarking on an adventure, but that it would be a safe and enjoyable experience.
Recommended:
Yes
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kifwebe
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