The Seto Ultimatum

---

Tarifa or Algeciras?
The reason why I still didn't know where I was going was because of the rather fragmented information I had gathered about ferries to Morocco the previous night. It seemed that there were more ferries going to Tangier from Algeciras than there were from Tarifa, however the ferries going from Algeciras were all in fact going to Tangier Med - a port 40km away from Tangier itself. If I wanted to go to Tangier itself, I would have to go from Tarifa. However, there were only two ferries going from Tarifa - one at 1500 and one at 1700. The next bus to Tarifa was leaving at 1330 which would only get me to Tarifa by 1545 and I knew from previous experience that you should allow yourself 45 minutes before departure to check onto a ferry.
If the bus got there on time I would be fine as I had half an hour to play with - so I decided to go to Tarifa.
On the way there, the heavens opened and it started to bucket down. This ended up slowing the bus, as the driver could barely see ten metres in front of him. If I missed the 1700 ferry, I would be stuck in Tarifa - not a bad place to be stuck admittedly, but I had prepaid a hotel in Tangier.
Around 1545 we had only arrived in Algeciras - Tarifa was still another half-hour away - so I decided to get off the bus. I would have to go to Tangier Med, but I was sure there would be some sort transport available to get to Tangier once I arrived.

I have to say that Algeciras is quite possibly the ugliest town in Spain. The place is all industrial and devoid of character. Lonely Planet warns you of ticket hawkers and sure enough, there is an old man asking me if I needed a ticket outside the entrance to the port. He tells me that the ticket office is closed - and it is. Dammit. I follow him halfway across the road to some ticket offices before I let him cross the rest of the way, while I sneakily cross back to port entrance and enter the port - it looks like there are more legit ticket offices deeper inside the port.
There sure are - but none of them seem too interested in selling me a ticket - when I ask for a ticket to Tangier they merely point me to another building. Do not like this place at all.
Inside the main terminal, I then get talking to a Comarit ticket clerk.
"Habla ingles?" I ask.
"A little."
I then tell him I want to go to Tangier - but not Tangier Med if possible.
And what do you know, he tells me that at 1630 that there is a free bus that will take me to Tarifa in time for the 1800 ferry that goes to downtown Tangier.
There's an 1800 ferry?
To makes things worse, on the free bus to Tarifa there is a billboard every 500 metres telling me that there are ferries every hour from Tarifa to Tangier until 2200. Should've stayed on my original bus...
Tarifa looked lovely from what I saw - I had heard cool things about it too, from it's cool little medina to it's bohemian vibe. You can actually see Africa from here.

The ferry ride was uneventful apart from having to explain what Maori is to the Moroccan immigration officer, and why there were strange words such as "Aotearoa" on my passport. You feel that sometimes immigration officers interrogate you more for show than because of any real suspicions about you - and more often than not they will ask you stupid questions in an attempt to flex their muscles but end up looking like complete idiots.
The ferry ride was also pretty rough - to the point where simply walking around the ferry was a challenge. By the end I was feeling slightly nauseous.

I had been warned about the faux guides, hustlers and dodgy exchange merchants in Tangier, and sure enough I had all sorts of offers from taxi drivers, guys offering to walk me to my hotel and guys trying to guide me to a bureau de change, as soon as I set foot on Moroccan soil. I simply kept my head down and followed my map. The most annoying ones are the ones who try to start proper conversations with you by asking you where you are from, how the ferry ride was and whether it's your first time in Morocco - quit the act, I know that you'll ask me for money sooner or later.
With loads of dodgy guys hanging by the port gate, I could feel a thousand eyes on me as I walked down the port-side boulevard. Carrying all my stuff, I did feel a bit vulnerable.
My map and my surroundings soon started to make sense and before long I had reached the spot indicated by my Google map. Except I couldn't see my hotel anywhere...
I walked back and forth a few times, with a lot of locals eyeing me up. Being Asian, with long hair, wearing shorts, carrying two bags, and wandering the streets of Tangier alone - I guess I was quite conspicuous.
I asked an old man if he could read my map, but he didn't have a clue how to read one so I eventually walked into a cafe to ask directions - you can trust a cafe worker or a shopkeeper not to be a faux guide, as they can't leave their premises.
It turns out Google Maps got the location wrong by about 400m!

My first impressions of Tangier was that it was very worn, tired and run-down.
The same could be said about the Hotel Tanjah Flandria, although it's characterless, 50s-style furnishings had an unlikely charm to it.
After checking into my room, I was pretty famished so I thought I go out for a bite to eat and familiarise myself with the city.
As soon as I stepped out of the hotel, I was greeted by a man trying to start up a conversation with me. I didn't know what he was selling, but I knew I didn't want it. I don't know if it was or not, but it felt like a set-up by the hotel.
Handily, there was a cash machine just around the corner but having just left the faux guide behind, I thought it prudent to keep walking and find another cash machine.
The streets were heaving - it was so busy. Like Oxford Street on a Saturday afternoon.
Cafes lined most of the streets and they were choc-a-bloc full of men just sitting down, watching the world go by - most of them just staring at me as I walked past. A group of young men walk past, mocking me with Bruce Lee noises.
I eventually find a sandwich joint and I struggle to read the menu - it's been a while since I have read French menus. A man sitting down having a sandwich then gets up, puts his arm around me and with perfect English, tells me everything that they have on offer. Not that I was intending to, but there was now no way I could walk out of there without ordering something. I eventually got myself a sausage wrap, where the sausage looked very raw on the inside. I had heard of some horror stories about food poisoning in Morocco, but I was so hungry I decided to eat it anyway and prayed that I wouldn't get sick. Including a drink and fries, the whole thing cost about 40 Moroccan dirhams (£1 = 13Dh) - so it was very reasonable.
On the way back to the hotel, the traffic on the street matched the traffic on the footpath and horns started beeping continuously. With the hustle and bustle and all the stares - I felt decidedly uncomfortable here.
The thing I noticed most however was that everyone out and about were men - there were hardly any women anywhere, which reflected the fact that Islam is the main religion here in Morocco. 99% of Moroccans are Muslim.
With all these men about, I can't imagine the nightclubs here would be much fun - for either sex.

Before I had arrived, I was really excited about coming to Tangier.
Back in 1923, Tangier was made an international city under the joint control Britain, France and Spain and thus became a settlement destination for people from all over the world and the traditional point of entry into Africa.
In the 1940s, the political neutrality of the city attracted eccentric millionaires, a cosmopolitan population, artists and writers (the Rolling Stones spent a lot of time here) and most intriguingly, spies and secret agents.
Tangier has seen it all, and it felt strangely cool to be in a place with such a history despite the fact that there is not a great deal left that reflects its storied past.
The first sight that I came across is not really much of a sight, but to fans of The Bourne Ultimatum, it is instantly recognisable - Gran Cafe de Paris, where Nikki (Julia Stiles) gave Desh a new phone. I even knew exactly where Nikki was sitting. I felt ridiculously giddy - I have watched that film at least ten times.
I then came to the Grand Socco, a huge square with a fountain in the middle of it, and the main entrance to the city's walled medina.
Like many old, walled, European towns, the buildings within the medina are closely packed together which is why it was possible to have the rooftop chase scenes in both The Bourne Ultimatum, and the The Living Daylights. If I could re-enact a rooftop chase, that would be awesome. But anyway...Tangier's multicultural history has indelibly left it's mark with some curious buildings and wonderful colours.
I eventually found my way to the Kasbah where the main sight in Tangier is located, the Sultan's Palace and it's gardens. Disappointingly, both were closed, and from the outside, the palace really isn't much. At least there were a couple of great vantage points up the top of the hill looking down onto the coast and across the medina.
Now I usually love getting lost while exploring pedestrianised walled towns, but Tangier's medina was probably the most unsettling that I have ever been to. Every second man is offering to guide me around and some of them just start following you pretending to be a guide. There was one guy in particular who followed me for a good ten minutes and wouldn't take no for an answer - that was slightly scary.
Faux guides would shout at me as I walked past them;
"Sayonara!"
"Arigato!"
"Where you from? Japan? Korea?"
"Ni hao!"
Fuck off please.
The next person that says any of the phrases above is gonna get punched in the face.
Lonely Planet had suggested a couple of interesting museums but I couldn't find them and I didn't care any more - I just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. The maze-like alleyways didn't help, as I kept doubling back on myself and running into the same faux guides, almost vindicating their existence.
At the time it felt worse than Egypt - I was getting hassled from left, right and centre and being trapped in the medina made things feel even more claustrophobic. And to top things off, the medina was filthy, with a constant stench of rubbish, off meat and urine.
But I guess this is typical of a developing country where inequality and unemployment are so high. People are desperate and try to take advantage of tourists because there are no jobs available, knowing they won't be looked after by their government. In the developed world don't know how lucky we have it - we really don't.
I went back to the hotel to regroup a bit - the hotel suddenly became a sanctuary free from stares and hassle. It's sad that it came to this, but then again I'm on holiday and I really don't need to put up with all this shit. I'm glad I'm not a woman though - you'd get leers and catcalls added to the mix as well.
I can put up with a little bit of hassle - but this was just relentless.
I had pretty much seen anything anyway - there really isn't a terrible amount to see and do in Tangier.

I hadn't really had any proper Moroccan food yet so I braced myself for one last adventure away from the hotel to get some dinner. I have to say that Tangier really comes alive at night - there were people everywhere.
On the way to back to the medina, I decided to walk down a side street for no particular reason. When I got to the bottom of the road I passed something that seemed familiar - a corner garage called "Garage Velasquez". The road that bent around the corner and down a slope looked familiar too - and then it hit me. This was where Neal Daniels got blown up by a car bomb in The Bourne Ultimatum! I suddenly recognised all the spots - where Desh parked his scooter with the bomb in it, where Bourne (Matt Damon) lay on the ground after the bomb went off, the hill that Bourne ran down in pursuit of Desh. As ridiculous as it sounds, after everything that had happened today I suddenly had a smile on my face - spotting this location had made my day. Jesus...
Anyway, Restaurant Hamadi didn't appear to be open and according to a man on the street, it wouldn't be open until 8.30pm, which I thought was a bit weird.
"Francais?" asked the man.
"Non!"
He then suggested another restaurant and motioned for me to follow. Here we go...
I hadn't thought of an alternative and I wasn't going to wait an hour for Restaurant Hamadi to open, so I thought I might as well follow him.
The guy seemed friendly enough and he seemed to be buddies with the owner of Cafe Kasbah. I guess this is how it works - mate brings customers to his buddy's restaurant or hotel and mate gets a cut.
Anyway I am sat down, and the owner doesn't speak much English so his son comes to serve me. He tells me that I will get a four course meal including a Moroccan salad, a pastilla, my choice of a tagine or couscous, and some Moroccan pastries to finish.
"How much?" I ask.
"One-hundred and twenty dirhams", he replies.
I was already sat down and I hadn't a clue where else to go, so I thought I might as well go for it - I wasn't exactly sure how much I should be paying for a meal and it turned out that this was on the expensive side, although not exorbitant.
The pastilla was nice - it is basically a pastry filled with chicken and various spices and nuts - much like a pie. It is then sprinkled with icing sugar and cinnamon. A fusion of savoury and sweet, I thought it was really good. The salad was nice (similar to a greek salad) but the tagine was very average - it was pretty much just boiled vegetables and chicken that doesn't taste anywhere near as exciting as it looks.
As I finished my meal, the boy then said he would take me to the Berber markets once I had finished. It sounded interesting, but I decided not to get pulled into having to give him a substantial guide tip and politely declined. He wasn't happy with a 10Dh tip but he wasn't getting anymore, after which he suddenly stopped being friendly.
Besides, there is a large Berber population in the Rif Mountains where I am sure there are some Berber markets - and that is where I am heading tomorrow.

Beslama,
Derek

---

Photos

Rooftop Chase
View across the medina. A chase across those rooftops would've been awesome.

A Blue Fork In The Road
A colourful choice of paths inside the medina. Which one would get me out of this maze?

Grand Socco
Big square and main entrance to Tangier's medina.

Medina Gate
One of the old gates into the walled medina in Tangier.

European Buildings
Old charming European buildings that serve as a reminder of Tangier's international past near the port.

View Over Port Of Tangier
A little disappointed I couldn't get around the side of the wall on the right to take a better photograph of the old port.

Grand Mosque
Located inside the medina.

Gran Cafe de Paris
Where Julia Stiles left a phone for a CIA assassin in The Bourne Ultimatum.

Sultan's Palace
It was disappointingly closed while I was there.

Medina Streets #1
A street inside Tangier's medina.

Medina Streets #2
I'm sure that Bourne, Desh and Nikki ran through here during the medina chase in The Bourne Ultimatum.

Garage Velasquez
Site where Neal Daniels was killed by a car bomb (exactly where that 4x4 is in this photo) in The Bourne Ultimatum.

Cafe Kasbah
Where I enjoyed my first real Moroccan meal on recommendation from a guy off the street.

Pastilla
Delicious "pie" that is traditionally filled with pigeon and sweet spices.

Kasbah Gate
The inside of one of the gates into the kasbah (citadel).

Mosque Entrance
Entrance to a mosque in the medina.

Kasbah
Building just inside the kasbah that looks significant but is probably not. Probably part of the Sultan's Palace.

Tagine
Disappointingly bland chicken tagine.

The Pursuit Begins
Hill that Matt Damon stumbled down in pursuit of Desh the CIA assassin after the bomb went off.

Glass
During the rooftop chase scene in The Bourne Ultimatum, Bourne had the presence of mind to grab towels off washing lines to wrap around his hands so that he could place his hands on the top of the walls he was jumping, which like this wall, were covered in broken glass.

Ferry
On board the ferry from Tarifa to Tangier.

Petit Taxis
Coloured a garish but cute ultramarine with a yellow stripe across it, it was easy to identify taxis in Tangier.