Cape Spartel, Where the Mediterranean and Atlantic meet
Salam Alaikum. . .Alaikum Salam“ Salam Alaikum . People if please.”
Meet Abdel, our Morrocan tour guide who is hilarious without trying. He stands up in the front of the bus, his gigantic mirrored sunglasses covering half his face, except for his mouth, where the left side of his mustache twitches slightly. “People just please, excuse me, I-love-your-attention . . .but-I-love-you-too.” His English spits out at a rapid cadence, “People-can’t-believe-I-am-your-tour-guide-but-everyone-says-I-look-like-very important-like-somebody. Who? You wonder” With broadway flair he rips off his Sunglasses and poses a quick profile shot, twitching his mustache again. “Michael Douglas please.” He shoves his sunglasses on, “And you call me Michael because I love you please.” This was the best trip ever.
Starting from the beggining. . .straight from Ryan’s arrival in Granada on April 24th, he took a taxi to catch a 7 hour bus and ferry ride to Morroco, which earns him the right of claiming to set foot on the tierra of three different continents. . . in one day.) We got in the first town, Tetuan. Morocco, before visiting was a blank slate, which I mentally painted bible-esque scenes, typical Arabian markets, and, of course, desert. When we arrived in Tetuan, it was far from anything I imagine—lets just say nobody had to tell me not to eat the street vendor food. We started in the old town medina, a genuine, narrow old market that was strong smelling of sewage and fish. Michael Douglas’ first words of caution on packing were, “don’t bring please flip flops,” and as we dodged the sewage gutter in the middle of the streets, I can see why. The girls in front of us are all wearing summer halter dresses and flip flops, and by the end of our market walk 4 nicely tanned calves are crusted with streams of. . . whatever smelled rank. We were greeted at the hotel with Moroccan mint tea and Arabian snacks, and finished off the night with chatting and hanging out with other students from the program.
Chilling in the Medina in Tetuan
In the time it took to take this, 5 more chickens were
thrown on the stack. Kebabs anyone?
The next day we went to Tanger (1 hour bus), passing by the president’s lush estate and rugged coastline where the Atlantic and Medditerranean meet. We also rode on the camel in the Sahara. . . which actually ended up being an abandoned parking lot with sand and very sickly looking camels (one of which bucked a student off. . .maybe time to retire that one). The market there was fun, and everything, everything in Morroco was remarkably cheap. Other highlights were visiting a “magic” carpet shop, getting henna tatoos, getting offered hashish multiple times, and enjoying couscous with chicken.
Donkey, the safe alternative.
The third day we went to Chefchaouen , everyone’s favorite by far, a dated mountain village where almost every door and house is painted blue. Ryan and I abandoned shopping in the hordes of Moroccan tourist shops and spent the afternoon on a balcony overlooking the quaint town nestled in the mountains, and taking in the beauty of the very non-desert of Northern Morocco.
Chefchaouen
Shokran!
Salam Alaikum. . .Alaikum Salam
