Morocco’s reigning monarch, King Hassan II, likens his county to a
dessert palm: “rooted in Africa, watered by Islam and rustled by the winds of
Europe.” – A poetic description for a place which can appear mystical, magical,
and foreboding all at once.
The ferry ride was amazing! There we were, on a luxury boat with first-class accommodations and every other amenity. And I was in my total glory. As we took in the view along the Strait of Gibraltar from upper deck seats, the balmy Mediterranean breezes blew every which way. As they blew, they flapped our unruly locks, smacking us in the face from time to time. Much to our surprise, most of the passengers, regular commuters on their daily routine, chose to sit inside.
When the
ferry docked in Tangier, Colin promptly disappeared into the crowd of everyday commuters, while we stood at the pier sticking out like newly arrived tourists, looking
lost—precisely how we were NOT supposed to look! We soon realized we'd been rather foolish
not to have booked a guide before leaving Seville. In all fairness, this trip being so last
minute, we barely had time to get on the ferry, much less arrange for a guide.
The magical city of Tangier with the fabled Kasbah [Casablanca] in the
background, beckoned to be explored. We couldn’t wait to start sightseeing, but the Englishman’s advice rang clear in my ears and I suddenly felt apprehension at heading out without a plan of
action. Especially, given our lack of knowledge of the language. Our wellbeing and safety, were at the top of my priorities. I was not about to chance that, for anything in the world.
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| the Kasbah, fabled Casablanca! |
We were discussing our next step, when a lanky, light-complexioned man appeared standing in front of us. He was sporting a badge, which caught our attention. Taking him for a customs
officer, we waited for him to speak.
“Hello! My name is Youssef Hassan,
and it is my pleasure to welcome you to Tangier!” he jovially announced in
perfect English.
He was dressed in a neat white polo shirt and khaki pants. And just as Colin Hayworth had done, he at once
also began to emphasize the importance of having a knowledgeable guide to tour
the Medina—not so much out of a fear for safety because their country is
safe by most standards, he said. But more, so that we might experience as
much of the city in the shortest time possible. He proceeded to run his impressive
resume by us—he worked for the number-one tour company in Tangier
and had worked with some of the world’s finest people. Pulling out a cell phone, he opened it to the
picture file and proudly showed off a picture of himself posing with a
broad-smiling Matt Damon. “One of my
recent clients,” he said with a smile. “Mr. Damon was filming the movie, Green Zone, here
last year. I was his tour guide and chauffer the entire
time he was here.”
Hmm, impressive, I thought. We kindly shared in the Muslim’s enthusiasm. “Really?” we answered, nodding happily.
After listening to everything Youssef had to say, we felt we should give him the benefit of the doubt.
Actually, it was more like we didn’t have much choice. It’s better to be safe than sorry, I thought. But Youssef was so convincing, not to mention endearing, that we decided
to take a chance with him. Plus given the circumstances, the roughly $150
he was charging for a couple of hours, seemed reasonable enough. After agreeing on the price, Youssef promptly
led us down the staircase at the pier and out into a ‘taxi area’ several
yards away where a sky-blue battered jalopy was parked. A short man of average weight with olive skin
and coarse hair, who looked a little older than Youssef, had been standing waiting
by the car. Youssef introduced him to us as the chauffer. After helping us into the car, he got into the driver’s seat, while Youssef, who looked
more Scandinavian than Muslim, went around and sat in the front passenger seat.
And off we went with the two total strangers!
"Boy! Am I trusting! To be putting our lives completely
into the hands of total strangers," I thought again as we got into
the faded blue jalopy with the two men. I said a quick prayer in my mind then
lording it over to God, I braced herself.
But as the day progressed, we felt safer, almost to the point of feeling like we were touring the city
with trusted relatives. In reality,
Morocco is quite safe by most standards.
As we drove to all the important sites, all the time Youssef sat at a 110-degree
angle and tried to face us as he rattled off important names and dates. I appreciated that he took pains to turn around and look at us both when he
spoke, making us feel like he really cared for us as clients.
First it was off to the more modern part of the city, and then to the
public squares, the temples, the Grand Mosque, the Grand Soso square, and the
marketplaces in the Medina. Because you
know, a trip to Tangier is not a trip to Tangier unless one gets dragged to the
marketplace where one’s sympathy is played upon into buying something! We were no exception. In our case, a $600 rug that I put on my credit card. Also unfortunate for us, the Kasbah was not opened to the public--much needed renovations were underway to
restore the citadel for tourism. And so we missed out on quite possibly the most important reason for visiting
Morocco. However, thanks to Youssef we covered other important parts
of the city in a time frame of about six hours.
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| local men mingling in the square |
Youssef took us on a detour that led us into the hub of the
old city, as we traversed through more and more alleyways and narrow streets, and deeper
and deeper into the heart of the Medina.
Dark questioning faces peered from behind half-drawn curtains. Half-naked children interrupted their street
play to stare at us innocently. And women wrapped
from head to toe in bright colored caftans, eyed us curiously as they stepped
aside to make way for us. We would ever forget this trip!
Where is he taking us? We’ll never find our way out of this maze, I thought.
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| in the Medina |
Youssef was actually taking us to a restaurant he had told us about
earlier—apparently one that probably belonged to a friend or an
acquaintance of his. Because here, more than
in other cultures, “one hand washes the other.” We were in for the surprise of a
lifetime. This meal would go down in the
books as one of the best during our trip.
The savory meal, complete with tagine (a delicious and hearty, highly seasoned chicken stew in a pungent red sauce), a
side dish of seasoned local vegetables, couscous and pita bread, was a celebration
in itself. As we indulged our taste buds to the
highly traditional Moroccan meal, we were disappointed that Youssef could not
join us. Another disappointment was having
to pair such a sacred meal with an orange Fanta, instead of the local
Casablanca beer. We felt somewhat guilty about
indulging in such a spread, when we knew that the entire city of Tangier was fasting and
praying—Ramada was underway. But Youssef and the friendly restaurateur insisted we enjoy our meal without any guilt—they would have their own light
meal at midnight, after the last prayers of the day were said. After we were comfortably seated in a
corner of the restaurant, Youssef bid us goodbye and was off, assuring us he would be
back for us in about forty-five-minutes or so. Once
the meal was served, both the waiter and the proprietor also disappeared. And we were left to savor our meal in
private, as we were the only patrons at that time.
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| love the tile work.... |
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| the restaurant is all ours... |
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| part of our Moroccon meal.. |
As promised, almost an hour later Youssef returned to take us to the marketplace. He definitely had a plan of action—after
taking us to several specific shops, he took a sharp turn that lead into a
two-story establishment that sold only rugs and carpeting. I felt obliged to return the favor of the
delicious meal, by contemplating buying a couple of small area rugs. However, I was in no way prepared to dish out
$600 for a room-size rug to another of Youssef’s acquaintances. I felt for it! When I claimed I didn’t have enough cash, the proprietor assured us that they accepted all
credit cards. Did I have a choice but
to buy the rug? I don’t think so! All kidding
aside, the rug weighed close to a ton!
“Seriously!” I muttered, “What is this thing made of?” To which the owner replied: "a special
blend of plastic and other materials", and then proceeded to test its strength
and durability. He lit a match to it,
spilled liquids on it, and put it through every other rigmarole.
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| where we bought the infamous rug... |
On another note, the over-zealous, tourist-loving proprietor kidded me, “You know, you could live like a queen here. Your beautiful daughter, she is worth any
amount of camels and so much more.”
We’re guessing that he uses that line on every mother that frequents the
place. Being the kidder that I am, I followed
with, “Could I really get a hundred camels for her?”
“Oh, much more than that!” the man answered.
Emily happened to be wearing an ecru-colored silk dress with flower
appliqúes. Whether or not he was kidding, I deduced the reason the Muslim thought of her as a bride was because of that dress she was wearing. That definitely not being Emily's intention to
call attention to herself, she stood out like a diamond in the rough. “Wow,” I whispered to my daughter
jokingly, “Me thinks your dress made a real impression on him.”
Emily was not amused.
After posing with the proprietor’s nephew on the terrace, with the
Kasbah in the background, we were off with Youssef carrying the rug. Who will carry it from here on? I asked myself. I soon realized my biggest
mistake was buying the stupid rug in the first place, and secondly not having
it shipped home.
“Damn! Maybe I should have tried
lifting it, before getting suckered into buying it!” I chided myself.
Another day, another adventure of a lifetime! As for the ill-timed purchase, definitely a big
blooper, considering that we, mainly I, would have to haul the damn rug for
the remainder of our trip.
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| on the terrace - Kasbah in the background... |
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| night falls on Tangier |
| with our friendly guide.... |
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| around town.... |
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| down alleyways we go.... |
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| the modern Tangier |
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