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Spain - Day 11 : Excursion to Morocco

We had slept in, until 8. After breakfast we headed to the front desk. From there a man brought us and an English family to the port of Tarifa. We were curious what would go wrong today so we wouldn't be back on the campsite tonight. There was plenty that could go wrong. At the port we first needed to pay for our ferry tickets. We didn't have enough cash left, but fortunately could pay with card. We each received two forms to fill in our personal data. Those were required to get through customs. Bram got a third one because he didn't have a passport. I immediately asked for a pen but we were told we would have enough time for that on the boat.

 

Together with the English people we walked to the dock. We were allowed on until the customs office, which was still closed. The room we were in looked like it was renovated for 50% a year ago, and then the workers just stopped. I wondered if the customs office would ever open. After half an hour the officers arrived. They checked our ID's and we were allowed to continue onto the boat to Tanger.

It was a large boat built like a catamaran. It looked luxurious, especially considering we only paid 60 euros for the entire day. There was a desk with a sign saying something about passport control. We stood in line but 10 minutes later the first people still weren't finished. That could never be the intention. It was really nice to sit down in a soft chair after 8 days of cycling and look out over the water. We already had been sitting for half an our by the time the boat left. While we saw Spain disappear the row in front of the desk kept getting longer and longer.

port of tarifa

Departure from Tarifa.

harbor tarifa

Tarifa's harbor

tarifa lighthouse

View towards the closed island south of Tarifa
 

We were at sea for a while. The boat went up and down more than I had anticipated. When we were almost in Morocco the line was short enough to not run all the way into the corridor behind us. We joined and waiting for a while. We had been searching for a pen to fill in the customs forms but still hadn't found any. Finally, we reached the desk where apparently important things happened that took a long while. We put down our IDs and the man asked for our boat tickets, which he stamped. Then he grabbed the still empty custom forms out of our hands and threw them on a pile behind him. Apparently they weren't that important after all. Without even looking at us he started 'helping' the next passengers.

 

When we were nearly in Tanger we walked to the boat's cargo hold. There we waited for the door to open so we could enter Africa. First we needed to show our IDs again. The customs officer looked shocked. There was no stamp in my passport. Yeah, that was on the boat ticket, just as for the other 400 passengers that arrive here multiple times a day. We would join a guided excursion together with 50 others. Someone started shouting we needed to go in busses, there were English and Spanish speaking groups.

 

Only in the bus we heard what the actual program would be. First we would get a tour through the city from the bus, then we would enter the city center by foot, eat in a restaurant, visit a tapestry workshop, a herbs store, and then we would have some time off. The bus drove via a steep road around the city to the richest part of Tanger. There we came to a parking lot filled with camels. We were warned not to accept the bracelets the people there would try to stuff in our hands, because then we would have to buy them. Those sales people were bad but nothing compared to the ones we would meet later that day. The camels were nice to see, but were actually dromedary with a fake second hump, so that the tourists wouldn't fall off. We didn't ride them because it seemed cruel. Every time the animal needed to go down on his knees so a, usually fat, tourist could get on or off. Often the dromedary didn't want to so the owner would pull his rope for an hour. The smaller animals were funny. 

Dromedary

Dromedary

Dromedary

The small dromedary and the bigger ones with the fake hump
 

After a while the bus left. The guide told us about the city. There was an old part, the Kasbah, that had been walled for ages. There was no crime there, he said, because alcohol and drugs were forbidden. We would visit it later today. Because it was walled there were a few necessities, which we needed to remember. There were five: a mosque, a fountain, a baker, a school, and a bathhouse (I needed to look that last one up when writing this story).

Tanger

View of Tanger from the bus
 

The bus stopped in a narrow street where we were allowed off. Soon we were in the Kasbah. After a while we left it to have a nice view over the ocean.

Kabash of Tanger

Old streets of the Kasbah.

Kabash of Tanger

We were part of a nice group.

Kabash of Tanger

Tanger.

Kabash of Tanger

Outside the Kabash.
 

It must have been difficult to keep 30 people together in the crowded streets of the inner city but the guide did a good job. The streets were so narrow only two people could walk next to each other. We saw small alcoves where people had sewing workshops and many food stands.

Tanger

In Tanger's busy streets.
 

After half an hour we had already seen much of the city. Now it was time for a Moroccan lunch. We were seated next to a Tunisian bus driver who lived in Brussels. He was married to a New-Zealandic woman. She wore a headscarf and spoke 7 languages, including some Dutch. There was also a family from Norway. Everyone was on vacation in Spain and now visiting Morocco. There were a lot of different nationalities. The man spoke Arabic with the waiters, who brought him a special Tunisian sauce of red peppers. The food was very good. First we had soup with bread, then lamb kebab and finally couscous. We also had mint tea, which I would recommend. The dessert was baklava. It looked like apple turnovers that were undercooked and covered in honey. They tasted very good. In the restaurant a Moroccan band played music while we ate.

spanje 119.jpg

The band
 

After lunch we went to the 'tapestry palace'. To keep the costs down they needed to make some money off of the tourists. We got a presentation in a room above the store. The owner put up a whole show about why hand-knitted tapestries are better than woven ones. While he talked someone else was unrolling some examples on the marble floor. He had practiced a lot. He threw them in such a way that they hit the floor with a loud bang. There were some really nice ones. At the end everyone was encouraged to walk on the carpets. I wouldn't mind having one but they were way too expensive. A typical carpet of 1x2 meters was more than 500 euros.

 

After the tapestry palace we headed over to the herb store. Here we received a lecture about all types of herbs and lotions. This guy could talk even better, which kept it from being boring. He had a nice story about orchid oil. You needed to put that on your temples if you had a headache, on the front of your head if you wanted to sleep, and on your hands if you had scars there. The first thing he showed was rose cream. A boy about 15 years old walked around to put a bit on everyone's hands. He started with Bram and then me. The first round he just pulled your hand and put some on it whether you wanted to or not. The second time we got something on our fingers. 

Then we moved to herbs to cook with. The boy nearly stuffed them up Bram's nose. We were laughing and the boy thought it was funny as well. While the owner was telling a story about the next type of herbs the boy was already laughing next to Bram, waiting to stuff even more herbs up his nose. We also couldn't stop laughing. At the end every tourist got a plastic bag. Here they were also crazy about those, but more about that later. All the herbs and lotions that had been discussed passed around again. If you wanted something you just needed to raise your hand. I didn't buy anything as we would have to carry it for the next 1500 km. Some people bought for over 100 euros, nice profits for the herb shop.

 

After the herb store we had some time off. That was when we were really bothered by the merchants. We couldn't stand anywhere without at least 4 people trying to sell us some junk. If you didn't look at them or did as they asked they would swear at you. We visited some more stores to select a souvenir. Most of it was junk. In one store I found a tiny carpet that wasn't as expensive, which I bought. Then we still had some time left. We sat down on a terrace to drink some more mint tea, like real Moroccans. We couldn't really relax there either because the merchants didn't want to believe we wouldn't buy anything. I had come up with tactic that worked quite well. You needed to buy something and wrap it in a bunch of newspapers so it didn't have a defined shape. If someone would then ask if you wanted to buy something you show the package and tell him you already had one.

sales people

Four merchants per tourist

swiss girls

The terrace, this picture was made with Swiss precision.

moroccan sales people

The merchants

Mint tea

Mint tea
 

After our drinks we were brought to an open area so we could be counted. On the way there an old man started talking to Bram, while showing a small bag of white powder he held together with his cane. So there was drugs in the Kasbah after all. We needed to get back on the bus which drove us 200 meters back to the port. While we were in the bus the guide noticed he had lost four people. Fortunately we found them again soon. We needed to wait a bit more before we were allowed on the boat. That was a good moment to decide which of the four we liked the most, Bram and I both agreed which one that was.

tarifa tanger ferry

The boat that would bring us back to Europe
 

We were pleasantly surprised everything had gone well thus far. We hadn't missed the boat, didn't lose our passports in Morocco, and made it back for the return boat. I had carried all my expensive belongings (wallet, phone, gps, and camera) in a plastic bag so nothing could get stolen. I hadn't lost that either. On the boat we got hungry and bought a chocolate bar in the tax-free store, which was more expensive than a normal one. Even for a chocolate bar we got a plastic bag.

 

That reminds me, I had promised to say something about those. In Spain we always got our groceries in a bag. Without even asking they start packing everything in bags. As soon as the first is filled the start with the next one. We didn't need all of that plastic because as soon as we would leave a store we would eat everything. Even if you bought one baguette, which was already wrapped, they put it in a bag. In total we must have received a hundred bags this vacation. Sometimes we would try to avoid it by saying 'no bolsa por favor' but then the personnel would look confused or even insulted. How dare we insult their bag ritual.

 

Our passports were hardly checked upon entering Spain. From the port we needed to walk back 5 kilometers to the campsite. On the edge of town were supermarkets. The first one was closed, it was already 9 o'clock. The second one was still open, so we got some food for tomorrow. We had dinner in the campsite's restaurant again.

 

After a long walk we ordered paella. This time they had all the ingredients. After 5 minutes the lady returned. Sorry, she had again forgotten the got bread. That was why we hadn't been able to eat it yesterday. We asked her to just make it without bread. She asked if we wanted to drink something so I had a beer. Bram didn't need anything. After much insisting she gave Bram a glass of water, which she insured us was free. Ten minutes later the paella was ready. We each got a small pan with rice and seafood that tasted very good. During dinner she stopped by to refill Bram's glass. 

After again scaring the cat away, re-pitching my tent, and finishing the bottle of sangria, we went to sleep. This might have been the first day off out of all our cycling vacations on which we didn't cycle.

route11.jpg

The route of day 11.
 

Distance cycled : 0 km