Tangier

On the morning of August 19^th, we had to get up pretty early to catch our morning ferry to Tangier. Neither of us had ever been to Africa, and we were excited to experience a country as foreign to us as Morocco.

Due to a minor mistake on our part and some technical difficulties of the ferry line, we had to recalibrate our plans a little and leave from a port about 15 minutes farther away. It was a bit chaotic, but for some strange reason, it almost makes me feel better when we have to adjust our plans. When things go too smoothly, it starts to worry me. I soon learned that things going too smoothly would not be a concern in Africa. By the time it was all sorted out, we at least had our boarding passes – which featured the right date, the wrong time, the wrong port of departure, and the wrong port of arrival. Silly me – this made me a little reluctant. But our lovely ticket agent assured me over and over – in Spanish only, and smiling like my concern was child-like and adorable – that we would be fine.

And we were. Apparently, they print boarding passes just to exercise their printers. When I handed over my boarding pass at the ferry, the guy didn’t even look at it. Wrong port? Wrong time? Wrong destination? No problem. I probably could have boarded a ferry to New York City as long as I had a cocktail napkin with a dolphin doodled on it. I’m going to bring my golden boarding pass to the states and see if it works as a skeleton key there, too. I’ll try it out at the movies.

I digress. (Sorry, Maureen. I have to do something on these trains.) So anyway, we boarded our ferry – which was actually quite nice – and in a quick hour or so, we were on another continent. This time, we stayed in a hotel rather than a hostel. We didn’t really want to take our chances in Morocco, and I’m glad that we didn’t. The hotel, La Tangerina, was great. It was located within the walls of the old fort – or “casbah,” and it had a really cool feel to it. It was decorated like a beach house out of the 40s or 50s. (I’m essentially making that up. I don’t know what a beach house in the 50s would look like, but it felt like somewhere James Bond would crash.) It was clean and relaxing and the people were helpful. After about an hour in Tangier, I was going to recommend that anyone considering a visit should stay at La Tangerina. Unfortunately, by the late afternoon, my personal recommendation changed: anyone considering a stay in Tangier should reconsider altogether.

Yeah. I said it. I know that it’s really trendy to like Morocco these days, but I’d counsel against Tangier. I had spoken to many people who had visited the city, and the story was always the same. Most of tourists that I knew were troubled by the aggressive sales tactics of the men throughout the town. Even though I was prepared for it, our experience was no different. To gloss over the details, the men that we encountered throughout Tangier ranged from unfriendly to extremely unfriendly to disturbingly aggressive and threatening. (Several of them speak up to eight languages, and when really angry, they seem to know the F-word in all of them.) In my opinion, they seemed especially aggressive because we were young American men. Simply put, they spoiled the experience.

I am still glad that we went, however. It definitely was an experience to remember. It was valuable to see how people live in the developing world – as you can see in the photos – and in a Muslim country. We were there during Ramadan – an Islamic holiday – so most people were fasting from sun-up to sun-down. And we heard the five-times-daily call to prayer that rings throughout the city.

We also saw some lively scenes in the local markets. We walked through what was essentially a farmers’ market as all the venders shouted, displayed mounds of produce and spices, and haggled with one another. You can even pick out your own chicken – just like American’s pick out lobsters. That live chicken then turns to pan-ready poultry before your eyes though, so be prepared to hang onto your appetite. We also walked through markets that sell everything from fine rugs and wares to cheap, “I swear they’re Amrani” sunglasses. It was a colorful experience.

We rounded out the site-seeing with a visit to a small, but interesting Tangier museum in a former Sultan’s Palace. The Palace was somewhat small and a bit run down, but it was still cool to see. And that evening, we had Moroccan chicken and vegetables on the hotel’s rooftop terrace and drank Moroccan mint tea for dessert.

So though Tangier was interesting, it was the first city on the trip that was simply not for me. If you want more details, feel free to ask me. And if you’re planning to visit, we should definitely exchange notes. But for now, I’m excited to be off to Granada and, gladly, out of Africa.

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More pictures of Tangier: