Tangier, Morocco

On Thursday morning, we woke up early and took the morning ferry across the Straight of Gibraltar to Tangier, Morocco (pics here).

After coming into port, we took a cab to our hotel, La Tangerina, which was a very charming building in the middle of the Kasbah, the walled-off royal compound. The hotel has ten rooms that overlook the Mediterranean and provide sights over to the southern coast of Spain. It is decorated with art, furniture, and old luggage (trunks, etc.) that remind one of the film Casablanca. Since Moroccan time is two hours earlier than Spain, when we arrived at our hotel, it was time for breakfast, and we were treated to a beautiful breakfast up on the rooftop terrace: fresh-sqeezed orange juice, some type of Moroccan pancake, an airy type of chocolate cake, watermelon, coffee, and croissants.

Next, it was time to explore the city a bit. We expected pushy salesmen and busy markets, but I think our experience went well beyond anything we could have expected.

First, we walked through a distinctly non-touristy neighborhood. I was struck by the amount of broken building materials and trash everywhere on the hillsides. (We actually saw a local man walk out to a hillside with a bag of trash and just throw it over.) We walked through an open food market in the neighborhood, where in about 30 seconds chickens went from happily clucking about to defeathered, gutted, beheaded, and ready for cooking. There were also fish sitting out in the warm air, as well as many beautiful fruits, vegetables, and spices. In this neighborhood, I paid a man with a sewing machine 3 euro (I offered 5, he said 2, and I made him take 3) to mend the strap on my backpack. Now it should hold for the rest of the trip.

After this, we made our way to the Medina, the old city, and went to the more central (and touristy) marketplace. When you enter a market like this in Tangier, almost invariably, someone tries to spark up a conversation with you and figure out which language you speak. That person's job is essentially to talk to you and walk you through the market as if they are assisting you in some way, but really they are trying to push you to their shop. They are quite persistent, and if you ignore them or refuse to comply, they become angry.

In round one, a man walked with us for several blocks as if he was just showing us around the market in the middle of the Medina, the old city. Soon enough, it became clear that he was leading us ever closer to his shop. Upon reaching the doorway, Nathan and I refused to enter. He sold a lot of nice Moroccan souvenirs and nice silver pots and such, but obviously Nathan and I are not looking to pick up anything like that while we are over here. "Why you have the paranoia? Why you paranoid? Why you have the paranoia?"

He wanted us to go up to the "rooftop terrace" to see the view. This is a common tactic. They are not trying to harm you or anything, but they try to get you into an upper room or into the back of the shop where they try to sell you a lot of things you don't particularly want or need while you're in a situation where it is very awkward to leave without spending your dollars or euros. Most tour groups here end in a shop with expensive rugs and jewelry, and it becomes very awkward if you do not drop some cash.

Nathan and I left and started back-tracking the windy streets at a brisk pace, our new friend following us asking, "Why you paranoid? Why you have the paranoia? It's a nice shop!" His brother was following about 20 feet behind. That was a nice touch. Our friend was walking next to me telling me that I'm a nice guy, but Nathan is not. I'm glad he recognized that, at least. He kept telling me that Nathan had the paranoia, and if I kept going with him, it was not going to do good things for me. Eventually we were about a block outside of the market, and I think he could see we weren't coming back, so he turned around to go after the next group. Thus concludes act one of pushy Moroccan salesmen. (And somewhere in there, I was able to eat two cactus bulbs. Basically, they cut away the outer covering and there is actually delicious, seedy pulp inside. You might compare it to passionfruit.)

After visiting the museum (which featured Moroccan men with Miley Cyrus ringtones--Party in the USA!), it was time to find some lunch. We were walking to a restaurant that our hotel had recommended when a man came up to us and wanted to be our guide to the restaurant.

Reed: Thank you, we're just walking, we don't need a guide.

Man: Where you going? You want restaurant? I take you to good restaurant. You staying at La Tangerina? I am night security there. (The odds of this being true seemed distinctly low.)

R: No, thank you, we're just walking. We don't need a guide.

M: Why you do this? You disrespectful. You no walk that way. It's Ramadan. It's dangerous. (Then he kept trying to take us down another street to a restaurant.)

R: Why is that way dangerous?

M: Jankies. (Junkies--likely drug addicts here for access to opium.)

R: Look, you need to understand that when we visit other cities, no one tries to take us around. Aren't we free to just walk around?

M: You are not free here.

Nathan: We're just looking around.

M: "Just looking around." Don't you do this to me. I am not a fool. I am 57-****ing years old. I spend 15 years in the Sahara. You understand? Why you say this to me, "Just looking around"? I know you. You are just here to smoke the hash.

N: Excuse me?

M: "Just looking around." You just looking around, like Obama wants to look around Iraq. Is that it? You want to know what it's like, so you come here? You just looking around Iraq, and you want to look around here? Why you treat me like this? Let me tell you, you treat us like ****, we going to treat you like ****.

(Meanwhile, I start thinking, "Hmmm . . . this is not going well.")

N: Let's just go back to the hotel and ask for directions. We'll just head back to the hotel. (The man called his bluff a bit, and he stuck with us until about 10 feet before the door, where he really tried to get us to stop and then turned around and rushed back down the street.)

M (to Nathan): Don't you give me this. You treat me like ****. Why you do this? If I see you again, I cut your eyes out. I know your face. I will remember your face."

Understandably, at this point Nathan had pretty much had it with Tangier. Now let me be clear, we were not ever really in danger. The hotel manager said she has had problems with that man before, and she has yelled at him for telling people that he works for the hotel. She also told me that the laws here are extremely protective of tourists and that there are severe punishments for stealing from or harming a tourist. For example, stealing anything from a foreigner visiting Morocco gives one an immediate 5-year prison sentence. She assured us that nothing could happen to us, but you could imagine that we did not feel wonderful about going back outside right then. We opted to hang out on the roof for the rest of the afternoon, and then we had a great Moroccan dinner at the hotel.

Unfortunately, the wonderful stories do not end there. Before dinner, I was sitting near the hotel office to use the wifi and write a bit about Seville, and some local kid spat on me through the open window. Charming.

The day ended well, however. On the roof, we had a delicious dinner of salad, regional vegetables (carrots and something that was likely related to eggplant), and Moroccan chicken cooked with olives and onions. Also, we had heard the prayer calls ringing from the towers throughout the day, but now it is Ramadan, a month during which Muslims do not eat until sundown each day. The final prayer call took place during dinner and lasted for roughly 25 minutes.

Tangier was certainly interesting, but in light of how we were treated, I cannot recommend that any of you visit in the near future. Perhaps I could use this post as a public service--you can view the album and then if you ever wonder what Tangier is like, you have some cool pictures and you don't have to go and get hassled, threatened, and spit on yourself.

Now to be fair, the cab drivers and our hotel staff were absolutely great. Also, I have met Moroccans in Europe that are extremely nice. I do not think our experiences fairly represent the nation or its people. I think Tangier is a bit of a rough city, Nathan and I are two 25-year-old men, and locals thought they could either intimidate us to sell goods or test their bravado against us. Also, I can understand some animosity toward America within the Muslim world. However, the pushy sales methods, the threats, and the disrespect of spitting on a person you don't know are all, in my opinion, totally uncalled for. You just don't treat people that way under any circumstances. I'm aware that we're very blessed in the western world and that life is a bit harder here in Morocco, but at this point I just cannot say that how we were treated outside of our hotel walls (and within "spitting distance" of its windows) was in any way all right. And while I cannot recommend traveling to Tangier in the near future, to be fair, friends of mine have had better travel experiences in southern Morocco.

Early this morning, we caught the ferry back to Spain and then took the train to Granada. Tomorrow we will tour the Alhambra, which was the pinnacle of Moorish architecture in Spain. I hope everyone is doing well at home.

- R