There is a lot to say about my time in Morocco, and it was hard for me to choose where best to start, so I guess the most logical place would be Tangier. Tangier is a coastal port city at the northwesternmost corner of the country, and it is where I started my journey through Morocco. I arrived here by boat, which I boarded in Tarifa, Spain about an hour earlier. The boat ride through the Strait of Gibraltar was rough to say the least, and at one point it is safe to say about three of every four people on board was succumbing to seasickness. Luckily, I was not one of those people, however, this would have likely changed had the boat ride been much longer.
Before disembarking from the boat, you must first visit a small room where immigration police will stamp your passport. When arriving at the port, you go down the ramp and into a sort of parking lot, mostly clear of people with the exception of a few soldiers who will check that your passport has the proper stamp. Once you leave this parking lot, you will be confronted by many cab drivers, all of which will hit you with the same line “my friend, my friend, where are you from? Where are you going?” This will be the first of many times I will hear this same phrase on this trip.
As I had chosen a guesthouse not far from the port, I decided to walk. Despite seeming close on the map, the old part of the city where I was staying was actually about six stories above where I was, so I had to find a long ramp to take me up.
The walk ended up being more strenuous than I had expected, but at least I appeared to be on the same level as my accommodations. The next challenge would be navigating the maze of tight, dimly lit alleys to find the correct doorway. This would be a common challenge in Morocco, as many of these ancient cities were intentionally built to be like mazes, where invaders could be easily ambushed while navigating through.
In a way, ambushed is exactly what happened next as a man started following me with the same line as before “my friend, my friend, where are you going? My friend” I knew he would want money for any help he may have been able to provide me, and I hadn’t yet made it to an ATM. Additionally, I had already downloaded the map to my phone, and knew I was close, so I politely refused his advances. It wasn’t long before he turned from “my friend, my friend” to yelling a variety of aggressive vulgarities. To make matters worse, the map on my phone started losing its position, likely due to the high walls on either side of me. Despite no longer having reliable directions, I kept walking as the man was still aggressively following my every step. Luckily, it wasn’t long before I noticed a sign on one of the mudbrick walls for the guesthouse I was searching for, and within another minute I had reached a courtyard and a door with the correct number on it.
After I dropped my bag off at the room, I had a nice chat with the receptionist, who gave me directions to an ATM, and provided me with a map.
I spent the next few hours walking around the old city, which I found to be busy, but full of character.
I also had a chance to meet some other locals, which thankfully were much friendlier than the first.
I hope you enjoyed reading my post, and that you will join me for the next part of my journey in future installments. All photos were taken by me unless otherwise sourced.