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Published: April 6th 2007
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Emily and I left our hostel at 6:15 the morning of the 5th to make it to the train station for our 7:15 train to Algeciras. We were much relieved upon arriving at the station to find our friends David and Pat (who had had similar issues getting to Granada) had actually arrived and were waiting for us at the train station. Thus, the four of us headed to Algeciras, ready to start our African adventure. Once we arrived at the port we searched for the ferry that would get us there the soonest, bought tickets, and went to check in. However, when we were almost at the front of the line, the guards turned us all around saying that the boat (for which we had purchased tickets) was full. Thus we ran back down, exchanged our tickets, and tried again. After another minor confusion while we were waiting in line for the second time and the rumor that we might not get on this one either, we made it through and boarded the ferry. Thus, we were officially off to Morocco and I, being the goofy person I am, was bouncing up and down with excitement for the majority
At the Beach
Me and Emily of our journey.
Tanger basically turned out to be everything the guidebooks had promised. We got off the boat to a group of eager Moroccan men offering to find us taxis or guide us around the city. The bombardment was not as strong as we had expected, and no one actually told us there wasn’t a way out of Tanger that day . . . but everyone did seem to think that a point toward the massive line of taxis was worth a tip. We quickly had to master the art of walking with purpose, and found two petit taxis that could transport the four of us to the train station.
Our train to Rabat was the best introduction to a country I have ever had, and an excellent experience for the sociological observer (yes, the nerd in me emerges). All the Moroccans on the train seemed extremely comfortable around each other - almost to the extent that I could have guessed the crowded train car was all one family. Children were running up and down the aisles, and everyone - stranger or friend - was interacting with them as they came by. Of course, the four of
us (being Caucasian and in Western attire) had no hopes of blending in; but everyone around us only gave us friendly glances or smiled in our direction. And when the children would stop by, they would interact with us just the same (except for the obvious language barrier). There was one little girl who clung to Emily for a while, and a little boy who entertained us for a while with a game of “keep the balloon off the ground.” Apparently that game is a cultural universal. There was one awkward point when, after the train had made some stops and the crowd had changed, three girls sat across the aisle from us and proceeded to laugh openly at these silly Americans on the train. I’m not quite sure what was so funny, but apparently we were hilarious. But, other than that, that train ride showed us the general friendliness of the culture.
Upon arriving in Rabat (by this point we were completely exhausted from our entire day of traveling) we set out to find a hotel. Travelblog, the guidebook, and other people we had talked to about Morocco, all said to find a hotel once you arrived. This
had made me a little nervous, but we figured three sources couldn’t be wrong . . . thus we pulled out the list of budget hotels in Lonely Planet and found a hotel by the third try. We quickly found that hotels in Morocco (to use euphemistic language) are quite different from any hotel or hostel we had been in before. But (since we were experiencing this for the first time in a state of sheer exhaustion, and we knew the guidebook would only recommend places that were clean and safe) we found this purely hilarious and hit the sheets hoping we wouldn’t contract any rare diseases.
Of the four cities we visited, Rabat had the most obvious European influence. Since it was once a French colony, there were certain things that made it seem like an African Paris (like the amazing (and cheap) pastry shops scattered all over the city, and the tree-lined boulevards). We spent the day wandering around the city; we stopped at Rabat’s BEAUTIFUL beach (watched some surfers for a while and stumbled upon a dead sheep - ewwww), and then hit the Kasbah and the Medina. These older areas of the city seemed pretty
relaxed, so we were able to meander and take in the sites, sounds, and smells without much hassle from shop keepers. Our other main stop was Le Tour Hassan (Rabat’s famous Minaret) and the adjacent Mausoleum of Mohammed V. This also contains the remains of a mosque destroyed by an earthquake in 1755. The grounds were a stunning display of Islamic art and architecture, and had a great view the ocean.
One of the most fun (and random) parts of the day was our encounter with a group of Moroccan guys who were all about our age. After dinner (and ice cream), we were walking along the main boulevard, Ave Hassan II. I’m not quite sure how it happened, but somehow in passing David and Pat and these 3 guys made a connection about their guitar playing abilities and ended up freaking out about American Rock ‘n’ Roll artists. Thus we ended up walking around with them for about an hour - our Moroccan friends seemed eager to practice their English . . . and talk about two main things: MSN and Nirvana (the former I don't have, the latter is a little before my time . . .
so I just had to smile and nod for a good chunk of the conversation). These guys were extremely friendly and seemed excited to talk with us, and they showed us the king’s palace and a little more of the central part of the city as we were walking. Fun times.
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