The Casablanca Experience?

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The plan today is to take a trip west on the local hop-on-hop-off bus over towards the Atlantic coast. I ask the gent at reception where it leaves from, and he tells me that he can sell me a ticket … well a sort of a ticket … he tells me I have to give him 20 dirham, and when I get to the bus stop I need to pay the other 110 dirham to the driver. He says he hasn’t got any change for the 50 dirham note I give him, so he’ll give me my sort of ticket, keep my 50 dirham, and give me my change when I get back. I wander along to the bus stop, where it seems everyone else is only paying 110 dirham in total; none of them have given their hotel receptionists anything … and I’m sure that when I get back later in the day receptionist guy will have finished his shift, so I’ll never see my change. Sigh. I keep reminding myself that it’s all just part of the Moroccan cultural experience.

The bus heads off along the coast and then tracks inland up a steep hill. It seems that this is where the old money wealthy of Tangier reside, and it’s a big area, so there must be lots of them - luxurious apartment blocks, enormous mansions, a swish looking country club, and a huge and very well guarded palace where the king’s local representative apparently resides. It’s all set in a thick evergreen forest, which we’re told runs right through to the coast and is crisscrossed by an extensive network of hiking trails. So much for traditional visions of Morocco - barren desert, everyone slightly impoverished …

We reach Cape Spartel and its apparently iconic lighthouse which supposedly marks the exact location where the Atlantic meets the Mediterranean ….. and a kilometre or so down the road a sign … which supposedly marks the precise point where the Atlantic meets the Mediterranean …. I wonder who gets to decide exactly where two water bodies meet, and, more importantly, what they do if there’s a dispute? The Greeks and Romans apparently regarded this as the end of the world, beyond which there was only the “Dark Sea”.

We head south along the coast past some pretty spectacular looking beaches, before reaching the end of the line at the entrance to the Caves of Hercules. We’re told that these are a “must visit” attraction that often tops lists of the best things to see in the whole of Tangier. It seems there are actually two caves, and the major difference to the casual observer would seem to be the lengths of the queues to get in. I join the shorter queue and soon find myself in a … well I suppose it is a sort of a cave, in that it’s an enclosed space inside rocks, but I’d take a bit of convincing that some guys with picks and shovels didn’t have a big hand in its creation. And what’s in here … well that would be miscellaneous plastic-looking paraphernalia including imitation statues of Ancient Greek gods, and an artificial waterfall, all to the accompaniment of a group of guys in traditional dress singing (?) and playing musical instruments. It’s all ridiculously kitsch, and wouldn’t look at all out of place at Luna Park. That was a bit underwhelming.

But it’s OK, the other queue‘s an order of magnitude longer, so that must be the major attraction. The queue moves at glacial pace, but it’s OK, I’m salivating at the thought of a long network of tunnels linking multiple chambers deep inside the earth, filled with other-worldly stalactites and stalagmites. Huh? What’s this? One smallish and largely hand dug chamber, with a hole in the wall where you can see through to the ocean … and that’s it? Where are the stalactites and stalagmites? And for that matter where are the lights, any lights at all that might help stop you from stubbing your toe against every step. I think I preferred the Luna Park Cave. That’s taken underwhelming to a whole new level.

I decide to ease my disappointment with a wander along the beach. That’s better. It’s not just one beach, it’s a string of them separated by headlands, and they’re all absolutely spectacular - long wide expanses of fine golden sand, and the surf’s rolling in hard - they’d definitely give anything we’ve got back in Oz a run for its money. That was a bit unexpected. They’re a bit different to the beaches we went to in Spain. The sand‘s yellow instead of grey, which somehow looks a bit more attractive, well to me at least. The furniture ensemble of choice in Spain was an umbrella and a pair of sunlounges. But it seems they prefer sitting to lying here, so it’s an umbrella, a plastic table and three plastic chairs … so an impressive fifty percent increase in the number of people they can squeeze under each umbrella. I don’t seem to be spotting too many topless bikini clad maidens here, or any bikini clad maidens at all for that matter. Not linked to the previous point, but if you get a bit bored it seems you can go for a ride on a camel or a miniature horse; I don’t remember seeing a lot of those in Spain either. And everyone’s playing soccer. I was reminded yesterday by a gent trying to sell us carpets that tiny Morocco finished fourth in the 2022 World Cup, and the same gent was also fairly bullish about his country’s women’s team’s chances in the World Cup that’s currently in progress back home. Everyone’s certainly getting plenty of practice down here on the sand.

Back in Tangier and we head out in search of dinner. They say you can create your own atmosphere, but I think we struggled with that a bit last night when we ate in at our hotel and we were the only people there. We end up in a seedy looking waterfront establishment that feels more bar than restaurant. But bar is good, we can get beer. They don’t have an English menu, but proprietor person is more than happy to translate the French line by line. The food is indeed excellent … well it tastes excellent … we can’t see it because all the lights go out just after we order and never come back on. And it’s all accompanied by some very soulful music. Issy says it feels like we’re in Casablanca … whatever that feels like ….

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Photos

Our hotel
It’s big on Tangiers celebrities. We’re not sure, but we think this might be Winston Churchill

Comments

[RENanDREW]

Assumptions we make
We were on this sandy beach in April and it was deserted... we assumed going to the beach wasn't a popular pastime in Tangiers. The old adage 'never assume' and asses is probably right :)