With my work I have traveled to some interesting countries so was perhaps a little blase about what was essentially just a simple day excursion. To R, despite his former US Navy career and associated travels, it was going to be a mini adventure which he could tell people about when he got home. We walked through the Medina and were quickly followed by the usual guys trying to make a quick buck or two as our guides. This is standard tourist stuff but they can be quite persistent to put it mildly. Fortunately, one of the many languages these guys speak is French going back to colonial days. Most without having attended school - note that linguaphobes! - is French (along with English, Dutch, German, Spanish...) . There is, after all, only a limited vocabulary required in any language to say 'I will take you to the Medina. I will show you the market. I will get you the best prices. Let me show you a good shop. This way. This way.' And so on. I was able to dismiss them with a 'Why? I live here.' in French. Once they sensed the limited opportunity for making a Euro or five they directed their efforts to a better opportunity following us from the ferry terminal.
Do not get me wrong. I am not knocking these guys. Yes they are a nuisance. Yes they can appear to be threatening. Yes they can be unsettling. To those people who bitch about it... it is part of the experience. It is life in the raw. It is not a theme park with actors. Enjoy it. Oh, and while you are at it, at least have the decency to try to speak some words when you are in a foreign country. Even if it is just 'Hello' or 'Goodbye', or even 'Go take a flying f... carpet'. It can sometimes pay unexpected dividends. I am sure R will tell you the experience after his second trip.
Second trip you say? Yes. The first time we were heading up a hill following an unpaved and very uneven steep street on our way to a most amazing Moroccan restaurant. I had been accosted by a small child chanting 'Euro, euro, euro' but my body language was enough for him to realise that I was not a good 'mark' so he had disappeared. I turned to check on the progress of R having forgotten:
a) He is 'portly' (although less so these days due to excellent progress on a diet - keep it up R. You too L.)
b) I live in a mountain village where some streets really should have signs saying 'Crampons required' or 'Oxygen required beyond this point' and the only places that are flat are the car park and the main square. Flat is more subjective than descriptive and you soon learn which table to sit at outside one of the bars so that your beer does not spill or you do not end up with a wedge of beer mats to ensure equilibrium.
Somewhat further down the hill I saw a red faced R (due credit, it was 30C or higher) surrounded by about 15 - 20 children of varying ages all chanting 'Euro, euro, euro'. I will never forget the look on his face. Forgive me R, it was very comical. His expression was a mix of alarm, concern, 'How much frigging further', and 'HELP!'. I reached in my pocket, pulled out some small change, and threw this down the street past him. The children vanished with a series of loud whoops that echoed off the high walls of the old houses and the even older city defense wall.
So you can imagine my surprise when, on their next visit, he actually suggested we go over again. The events that follow are interesting to say the least and were not how I envisaged the day leading.
Once R had suggested this I thought 'OK. I can do with some more turmeric and there were some fantastic tuna steaks (huge slabs actually) in the fish market'. Off we went, cool box in the back of the car. Two hours later we are on the ferry on our second trip. This time R was much more relaxed and we spent a couple of hours just wandering around, grabbed some lunch, and then shopped for tuna, olives, and of course some of Moroccos finest artifacts from Jimmy's . The trip was great fun and we headed back to the ferry terminal.
Now a word of warning to the uninitiated about the ferry terminal. I neglected to mention the gauntlet you run through when you arrive and depart. When you take the ferry to Morocco there are two choices the slow way and the fast way. The fast way is from Tarifa on the super new jet turbine ferry that whisks you to Tangier in about 35 minutes but I have not tried this yet as it is only recently that none EU citizens are allowed to use this route. R of course is American. The slow way (1h 30 min + note the plus) is from Algeciras the route we had to take. An important point is that these boats have 'seen better days' to be polite. Note that it has been some time since the trip I write about here and I understand that many boats have been updated. Additionally, we were being either tightwads or 'sensible' travelers and were traveling on the cheapo ferry. As a result of its age the signs and notices are not the best. You are required to have your passport stamped by the Moroccan police who are on board for this. If you do not get it done you will encounter the reality of your first encounter with Moroccan soil at the ferry terminal in the visa hall. Trust me. It is much cheaper (free) and quicker to get your passport cleared on board.
Once you disembark... welcome to Morocco. NOT. You are immediately hassled by the 'officials' (they wear a rather dubious ID badge on their Fateh cloaks or Thobe) . If your passport has not been cleared you will be taken to the visa hall (read further for the 'leaving Tangier' part). A word of advice. Only do this once on your trip. It is significantly cheaper i.e. you pay the guide a sum of money that has not been discussed yet, you have to be psychic about the amount, you pay the guy to stamp your passport, none of this has 'officially' happened, and you do not have to pay any of them anyway. Well actually, if you do not then nothing will happen or there will be a problem with your passport causing a significant delay. Live with it. Bite the bullet. One other thing, I kid you not, in most financial transactions or when you spurn the attentions of the city guides on your first uninitiated visit, or barter the price down too hard when you buy something, you will hear the word 'Jew' in amongst the mix of English/Spanish/French/German/Dutch/... that they mutter, deliberately but politely, slightly over their breath. Live with it. Everyone is entitled to an opinion even though it may not be to your liking. It is not Disneyland.
If you have sensibly had your passport stamped your official guide will immediately become either an instant city guide or lead you to a favoured city guide and a share in the potential profit of the day trip. Here you do not have to pay (see above) and if the guy instantly becomes a city guide he is probably a scam artist anyway. Don't. Of course not forgetting ... see above.
Back at the ferry terminal.
R and I are carrying our purchases in multiple plastic bags. You would have thought that, with so much hemp growing in he country, there would be a veritable glut of give away bags that are not only eco-friendly but also highly prized with the smoking fraternity at a later stage in their Fair Trade existence.
We enter the embarkation area.
Once again, this was a while ago and I do know that the very progressive King is making some impressive changes to a country that, after years of colonialism, has inherited a country with many social problems. One of the projects he is initiating is the building of a new, state of the art, ferry, cargo terminal, and cruise ship port combination. It is also rumoured (here, here, and here.) that the tunnel will get built one day...
Once you enter this area there begins one of the most interesting experiences of your life. You are besieged by a horde of Moroccans intent on assisting you with your exit visa process. Having experienced this several times I believe the process goes something like this:
1. By some unwritten code you have suddenly appointed one of the men.
2. You are an essential part of the whole drama.
3. At no point are you anything more than a bit player.
4. You have no lines.
5. You have no active involvement.
6. Time stands still while at the same time having a 'Stephen Hawking Moment' and moving most strangely being currently located in Morocco.
7. Strange in comparison with the normal 'rat race' pace (for 'rat' please substitute 'sloth') that is the buzzing city life of Tangier. A pace and place equally at odds with any known universal laws.
8. You hand this complete stranger, with a mouth arrangement to challenge any dentist, your passport.
9. You open your wallet and take out a sum of money that this man has already calculated on the muttering scale as being appropriate for the task you have assigned him.
10. You take out some more because you think he may have been muttering.
11. You hand him your ticket.
12. You break into a trot as he darts off to the ticket office.
13. Your ticket is taken in to be stamped for the next departure.
14. Apparently, the guy who stamps these has rickets or some other alliterative medical complaint.
15. His mother is in hospital.
16. He cannot afford a coffin for his departed wife.
17. There are of course the children.
18. You will need to get to the front of the queue quickly or you will miss the ferry (leaving in at least one hour).
19. Your wallet opens.
20. You once again break into a trot.
21. You find yourself standing in the Visa Hall and thinking of Kafka for some reason.
22. The man responsible for the queue is the brother of the guy in the ticket office.
23. Your wallet opens.
24. You find yourself in the customs shed and are introduced to the sister...
25. The sight of her donning rubber gloves makes you reach for your wallet.
26. Your luggage clears customs.
27. ... and so on.
Note that about 99.9999999>% of Muslims, who are true to the Koran and its teachings are actually ordinary people like you and me. Just trying to get by but under slightly more fiscally challenging circumstances.
As a minor point of note I have read the Koran, worked in Pakistan, and have several good friends who are Muslim and followers of the prophet himself (PBUH - or however it is meant to be written).
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