6. Morocco: Algeciras, Tangier to Rabat

Map from www.nationmaster.com  our route has been added in yellow.

Morocco

 

“My friend. You want to smoke chocolate?”

Algeciras-Tangier, Morocco, Oct. 19, 1982

(HELENA) Well, here we are in Africa, and I must say it has been quite a jolt.  No problems this morning leaving Algeciras .  We changed enough travelers checks to pay for our night’s lodging, buy a bit of food and buy our passage on the boat.

The trip over took 2 ½ hours. We could see Gibraltar, but never close enough to see the famous view of it. The boat was not too full (I'd hate to see it in the tourist season) and had all sorts of people. There were quite a few women in their long coats with slit sides and scarves over their heads, but their faces were not covered. There was also the usual quota of tourists from the USA and elsewhere.  The boat was rather strange because the lower deck was full of airplane-type seats, Duty-free shops, and bars. We mainly stayed above deck where it was very chilly but we had a view.

The jolt came the minute we left the customs building (they hardly looked at our packs, just asked if we had weapons) when a young man came up to Dan to offer him assistance with finding a place to stay. Now, as Grandmother knows, that often happens in Spain, but there, "no" means "no". Here, once you've even acknowledged a person they stick to you until you're forced to be rude to them. Dan finally got rid of that guy, only to be accosted by another. I think some five guys did that within ten minutes.  It's quite usual for them to say "Oh, I'm not a guide, I'm a student." They're just so insistent!!! In the end a guy showed us our pension, but only after Dan insisted that he would give him nothing. This guy's main selling point was that this pension has an "American" name.  Yep, here we are in the Pension Miami (Dan says: The guy only thought it was the selling point).

We had our usual lunch and then went out to explore a bit. Wouldn't you know, it's a holiday, so banks and the tourist office were closed.  We changed $US 10 into 61 Dirhams. I don't know that I've ever had such a traumatic walk through a town. We definitely agree with our Africa On the Cheap that tourism has quite ruined some things in Morocco. Oh, there were lots of picturesque narrow streets and interesting dress, but we were constantly having young men and boys come up to "help us", and they'd always insist.  It's hard to explain, but these men and boys in the street always seem to approach you with something devious in mind. This time I can honestly say that Dan is the one to tell you because they always latch onto him.

Moroccan men in their djellabas

 We decided to come back to the room to rest. We ended up doing our very inexact Spain travel accounts. We figure we did our two weeks on an average of $US 8.00 per day per person including the train trips. Strangely enough, we felt cheered up after our bout with sums and decided to look for a good, cheap supper.  That is much easier to do here than in Spain. We had some hot "Morocco soup" and an omelette with fried potatoes. On our way back to the “Miami”, Dan turned when he saw a sort of familiar face. What a surprise to see Cecily, one of our South African friends. We had no idea we'd be seeing them here because people with S.A. passports aren't allowed into the country. It turns out that Martin couldn't come, but she has an Irish passport. When we met her, she was with a British family she'd met on the way over. One of the famous "guides" had managed to direct her to a hostel and she was being forced to tip him. Since we can sleep three (a double and a single) in our room, Dan invited her to share with us. That was over three hours ago, and ever since we've been talking up a storm and trying to write a line every now and then.

Tangier, Morocco, Oct. 20, 1982

(DAN) We certainly had a much happier day today. We wandered around town all day and were accosted many times, but it is no longer so offensive and we are deve­loping techniques: #1 The Spanish tourists must be the worst tippers because though these "students" or guides automatically speak English to us, if I insist on speaking Spanish they soon get lost.  #2 Stop dealing with them immediately and get increasingly rude until they get lost. One is afraid to ask anybody directions because they are liable to start following and expect a tip. All the while they are subtly insulting, especially the children (little boys).  We didn’t get any good pictures because as soon as a camera appeared you would get inundated with volunteers.

Although we were told that Spanish was more prevalent in northern Morocco, we have found Arabic or Berber (not that we can detect the difference), French, English, and finally Spanish to be the order of prevalence. Many of the older and maybe poorer people seem to be the Spanish-speaking, the rest French. The corps of volunteers by far prefers to use English, some of it quite colloquial, cuss words and all. Today I was offered drugs on the street no less than six times, in very good Eng­lish. They come out of the smaller streets and kind of walk past at an angle. Their attitude is much more pleasant than that of the would-be-guides, the glances full of conspiratorial understanding, and they are usually overjoyed with the quality of their merchandise. Two dudes called to me from an alley and actually lit a match when they said, "You want to smoke chocolate?" Cecily, Helena and I were eating lunch in our room, when our neighbors (French) across the hall knocked and said, "Would you like to share a joint?" (I guess a joint is a unit of smokable ‘chocolate’.)  Then there are the money changers... 

In spite of all this the three of us had a good time until Cecily took the ferry back to Algeciras at 3:30. We walked all over town watching the people, seeing the sights, but mostly talking about the problems in South Africa.   They are at the end of their trip and should be in South Africa when we get there, unless they have been able to emigrate before then.  We already look forward to seeing them, and according to Cecily, Martin’s parents are incredibly gracious hosts.

Tonight we went back to the "Restaurant Economique." This time we got couscous[1], which is a delicious stew with beef, onions, and carrots that is placed on top of a very fine bulgur.  It cost about one US dollar apiece. We simply did not find solid, cheap food while in Spain. We also got a kilo of small tangerines for about $0.30. A final positive note is that this evening Helena and I walked over into the large, modern part of the city and were virtually ignored. The tourist parasites are only on the water front and in the older part of the city. It is sad that the old part with such a rich history is reduced to its present state. Tangier was at different times "sister city to Carthage;" a Roman colony; conquered by the vandals; part of the Byzantine empire; springing point for the conquest of Spain; under different Arabic sects; a Portuguese colony for a century; pirate center (Barbary Coast); Spanish Protectorate, etc., etc.

Tangier beach and old town

Tangier-Rabat, Wednesday, 21 October, 1982

(HELENA) It is hard to know where to start and end today because we have seen so many new things. I guess we'd better forget the idea of writing less as the trip gets old. Dan and I got up at 5:00 this morning in order to catch the 6:00 train from Tangier to Rabat. We were a little surprised to see that it had rained quite a bit in the night, but it was nothing compared to the amazement we felt as the day went along. Here we were in what we sort of expected to be dry, hot Morocco. Instead, it was cold and wet[2]. Have we ever been glad we brought along those heavy rain jackets. We rode the first little bit with a very young couple dressed completely in "western style". At Ksar-el-Kebir we were joined by three young men, also dressed "normally". We got a little acquainted because Dan asked one of them if these heavy rains are normal (they are). The five of them moved to another compartment because we couldn't close our window and it was uncomfortable with the cold and wet coming in. We were then joined by four women (all in long robes with a scarf tied over the head and one with a veil up over her chin), their six children, and mounds of luggage, oh, and a lone man. It was funny to see the way we'd look at each other surreptitiously, but they had a friendly attitude. Dan and I were quite comfortably settled in our 3^rd class compartment with room for 8 people, but no door or heat when our former companions came by to say that we had to change trains in the next town (Sidi Kacem). We hurriedly gathered our stuff and got out into the pouring rain. We just stood around in the leaky waiting room untill a train to Rabat showed up.  It was earlier than expected and we rushed out thinking our train was about to leave us.  No, it turned out to be the 1st and 2nd class to Rabat.  3^rd class had to wait for the “milk run”.

We eventually got on our train (with the help of someone who was going all the way to Rabatville).

(Ed[3]: This does it up to the present moment of 10:25 pm, November 2, 1982. We have been pleased that the two installments received from Morocco have arrived in good time, 5 days for the first and a week for the second. Last night as I reluctantly left to go to an orchestra concert, Jack and Price were watching the old movie, "Casablanca". It held a special fascination for us as we knew that according to the itinerary Dan and Helena were in Morocco at the time.)

One neat thing happened on this stage of the trip.  A woman got on and sat down in the corner. Some man in the corridor handed her a green-skinned orange.  She had a veil over her nose and it was strange to see her hold the orange up to her nose; she seemed to do it almost with desperation. After a while she put the veil down around her neck, peeled a little bit of the orange, and continued to hold the peelings up to her nose. She offered the rest of the orange to a young woman in western dress (a stranger to her) and she in turn peeled it and passed the sections around to all of us. During that time there was a beautiful woman sitting across from us. She obviously was not well off, but she really was something. She looked as if she had applied her eye make-up very well, but I don’t think she had any on[4]. 

About the countryside: First we went through some low mountains and out onto land that looked like the Altiplano. We went through wide, flat valleys. Because of the rain there was a lot of standing water. We saw some good dark soil and one part was the Altiplano--with palm trees. For a good ways we saw very large eucalyptus tree plantations which we were told  were used mainly for making charcoal. Some of the villages were walled with cactus fences, 6 or more feet deep. We also saw a lot of orange groves. (One thing for sure, bananas must not be grown here because they are quite expensive, nearly $2 per kilo.)

Once in Rabat, we tried to follow the Lonely Planet suggestion on a place to stay and ended up at the “France Hotel” with a room comparable to the one at the “Miami” with our own bathroom.  We will need to find more economical accommodation and maybe use the Turkish baths that are supposedly common.  It is inside of the walls of the “Medina" (old town- market). The wall itself is atmospheric with the keyhole-shaped Arabic arches.

The France Hotel seen through the old town wall into the Medina

Scene from our window down into the Medina, no women selling.

 

This afternoon we went to the French consulate to see what visas we could get. They can only give Haute Volta[5], so tomorrow we’ll have to keep on looking for other consulates. We also went in to price air fares from Casablanca to Dakar. Because Morocco and Algeria are currently at war over Spanish Sahara[6], there is no direct land crossing between Spanish Sahara and Mauritania[7]. Nor, for that matter, can one cross the border between Morocco and Algeria.  This means we have to find an alternate route to Senegal to continue our overland travel.

As usual, a cup of café con leche (milk with coffee) tempted us, one of our best cups yet. One thing that really stands out is the cafes full of men (and only men) usually drinking a glass of mint tea. It was already dark, but Dan thought it would be nice to see the sea shore. Beautiful! We could see the waves coming in with such force that they would seem to hang in the air before crashing down.

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[1] The first time we were aware of this staple, though now it is on the radar of any self respecting yuppie.

[2] Winter means rainy season in a Mediterranean climate.  We suffered again in the part of South Africa with Mediterranean climate.

[3] Our mother was typing this journal up as it arrived by snail mail, and distributing carbon copies to a few friends and relatives.

[4] I wonder 30 years later if it was kohl.

[5] Now Burkina Faso.

[6] A former Spanish colony of coastal Sahara desert opposite the Canary Islands.

[7] A conflict that is not fully resolved 30 years later.