Rockin Moroccan

Tangier from the hill

We started off the day still unsure of our plans.  As the internet was down we still did not know if Aziz had received our message.  We had intended to take the early ferry across, however, Susana at the receptionist desk, reminded us that Morocco is 2 hours behind Spain.  Knowing that Moroccans start their day late, there was no sense in getting to Tangiers while the city was still asleep. 

Cab ride with Omar and Omar

We asked Mireia, our new found friend if the internet was working. She said that service was still out.  No WIFI!  Luckily, Mary Lou, behind the desk offered to let us use her computer (which for some reason could connect to the internet) to check our email.  We had received a reply from Aziz.  Yes, he could meet us today!  We still wanted to travel further into the country, but our blog poll and our budget told us we were to do a day trip to Tangier.  We looked up the ferry time table and saw that there was one leaving at 1:00.  It was 12:45.  We jumped into the car and headed up the road to Tarifa.  As we pulled in close to the ticket counter, we lucked out and found parking just outside the port.  Running, we arrived at the ticket office, just in time, for the man behind the counter to hang up the “you are too late” sign. We walked to the next booth and found that there was another ferry departing at 2:00.  While we waited, we called Aziz to let him know our new arrival time.  He said that was fine and either he or one of his associates would meet us at the port.  We boarded the ferry and set off over choppy seas to Africa.



The medina

The 1 Mosque picture
from the cab ride

Immediately, things felt a little different.  As we arrived in the port of Tangiers we exited the ferry and made our way through the guides waiting for customers.  An old man came up to us and said “Aziz?” We nodded and he pointed beyond the customs area indicating that Aziz would be waiting for us on the other side.  When we reached the area he had pointed towards we did not see anyone who looked like they were waiting for us.  As we stood there confused, another guide walked up and offered his services. He said that Aziz was not there and offered his cell phone so that we could call him to verify this information.  Luis spoke to Aziz, who apologized and said he was unable to make it.  He suggested that we should go with the man whose phone we were using.  Stating that he was honest, we figured it would be best, since this was a new experience for us.  So we did - reluctantly.  We had booked a tour with Aziz because his tours go beyond the typical places.  Suddenly, here we were, stuck with exactly the kind of tour we didn’t want.  Oh well, it was too late now.  

Entrance to the Kasbah

After agreeing on a price, we set off with Omar.  After telling him no several times, he wore us down and convinced us to get into a cab.  He claimed it was necessary to be able to get to know the “beautiful” outskirts of the city.  The cab driver was named Omar too.  We drove rapidly around the congested streets.  Omar, the driver, drove rapidly between buses while Omar the guide rapidly pointed out the “rich foreigner’s” houses.  

The view we mostly had

At one intersection, he barked at us to jump out of the cab so we could see the grand Mosque.  Thinking he was going to show us around, we climbed out.  Luis snapped a picture, suddenly, Omar was yelling for us to get back in the cab.  At a second stop to take pictures, Omar became a little too friendly and put his arm around me.  I felt uncomfortable and pulled away.  At the time I was unaware what Luis then said to him.  Luis told him not to touch me again and that Mexicans were very jealous and that he better not do that again.  Luis got that pissed off look he seems to get when he is mad.  I think Omar got the hint.  Omar got kind of quiet for a while after that. 

View of the port

Omar seemed very proud of the fact that Tangiers was an “international city”.  He repeatedly pointed out the American Section, the Italian Section, the German section (which apparently there must be 2 or 3 of as it was pointed out multiple times) and all the areas that foreigners lived in. He barely provided any historical information, even when we passed the King’s summer palace.  Omar asked if we wanted to see the camels.  We repeated our mantra.  “No we did not want to see the camels. We want to see the historic parts of the city”. To this he replied “ah there is no history here”.  Heading back down the hills above the city, we drove past the food market.  The next stop was the old city? Omar kept saying, this building is 150 years old, 200 years old, 450 years old – Which was it? We are still not sure. He probably didn’t know either.  He walked us through a market.  Through narrow stalls of rotting vegetables, fly ridden chickens and plucked pigeons.  At several points he would leave us to wander around alone.  However, as soon as we would stray from his “associates” booths he would suddenly fly out of some corner and steer us back.

Making Naan

Way too much food

Omar took us to Medina.  This was interesting as we wound our way through quiet narrow streets.  Every now and then Omar would push us towards some small alley to show us a good “picture”.  All along the way, Omar received numerous phone calls.  We now realize that he was probably calling ahead to let his friends know some shoppers were coming.  Our next stop was lunch.  This was despite the fact that we said we didn’t want to eat.  Suddenly, we were ushered into a restaurant and told what we were going to be eating.  The meal began with bread and olives, followed by a salad for me and soup for Luis.  The salad was tasty and Luis thought the soup tasted just like one his mom makes.  Next came cous cous with vegetables for me and Chicken tandoori for Luis.  We finished the meal with some baklava.  Over all, we thought the meal was quite tasty but a little expensive.  Omar had to get his cut. 

The food market

The kasbah

Then it was off to the spice market, handi-craft market and rug shop.  All of which we said we were not interested in.  At each stop the routine was the same.  Omar would introduce us to his “friend”, then we would be invited in.  The rug shop was the first stop.  We were led up the stairs to a room, told to sit and handed some mint tea.  The mint tea was actually very good.  A man sat next to us telling us about where each rug was made and what the symbols meant.  His assistant energetically rolled out rug after rug until the pile was about a foot off the ground.  Throughout the entire presentation we reminded the man that we did not want any rugs as we were traveling and had no place for one.  Then Luis told him that Omar was unlucky to have chosen the non-wealthy tourists.  He proceeded to bring out smaller and smaller rugs until they were the size of a handkerchief.  By this point Luis had finally broken the ice and the sales pitch stopped.  We proceeded to have an interesting conversation in which we learned a lot about the Moroccan attitude towards life. By the time Omar came to collect us, his friend was patting Luis on the back, smiling and wishing us a good journey.  Omar seemed upset that we did not buy a rug and he did not earn his commission.  

View from the rooftop

From the roof

Omar then took us to the ceramic shop. Surely he thought we would buy something here. Within a few minutes Luis had again broken the ice and was involved in a deep discussion about the commonalities of all people.  Completely bypassing the sales pitch, this man beckoned us up a set of stairs and showed us the view from his roof top.  He pointed out the mosques, pigeon coops and many other things typical of Moroccan life.  While we stood on his roof enjoying the view the call to pray echoed around us.  After about 45 minutes, Omar came looking for us, wondering what was taking so long.  He seemed a little upset that we were involved in conversation instead of negotiating to buy something.  “Ok on to the spice market” he said.  By now he was becoming frustrated.  He seemed perplexed as to why we did not want to buy anything.  I’m sure his wheels were spinning trying to figure out how to push our shopping buttons.  We followed him to the spice market where we sat through a sales pitch in the most rapid Spanish I have ever heard.  Unable to follow along,  Luis did all the talking.  I watched Omar visiting with his friends.  

The old Medina walls

Probably the neatest thing we saw

Next stop, the handi-craft market.  This turned out to be a souvenir market. Much like the curious shops in Nogales, Sonora.  We had absolutely no interest in Moroccan slippers, scarves, wooden trinkets, or lamps.  At this point, Omar threw up his hands and told us to wander around while he went to the café.  No doubt to smoke some Kif, which we had been offered several times by armless disheveled men.  We left the market area and walked to the plaza to people watch.  After about 45 minutes, Omar appeared again and said he was taking us back to the port.  We returned to the ferry about 15 minutes early.  This was fine by Omar since he was not making his commissions as we were not buying anything.  And fine by us, because we had had enough of Omar and his crappy tour.  Omar finished by showing us pictures of his 4 daughters and asking for an extra tip.  We commented on how beautiful his daughters were and told him we had no more money to give him. 

The streets we walked
 through sans Omar

A "typical" street

Though we were somewhat disappointed, we were happy to have set foot on the African continent.  We boarded and were soon on our way back to Spain.  The ride was much rougher on the return journey as the wind had picked up.  Arriving in Tarifa, we located our car and headed back to the hotel.  The trip was certainly not what we had hoped for, but all in all, it was an insightful experience.  We were intrigued that the people of Tangiers were not interested in their past, rather the future of Morocco as an “international city”.  Interestingly we also did not experience the culture shock that we had expected.  Perhaps living close to the border and visiting the Mexican curious, has made Morocco seem less foreign.  Next time we will skip Tangier and go deeper into Africa.