And now for something completely different — Tangier

We’re this close, we HAVE to visit!  As the Tarifa owner kindly let us leave our bags behind at the apartment and stay an additional night on our return, we can just take backpacks.  There was absolutely no available parking down by the ferry terminal but a quiet street close by had just the spot.  The FRS ticket office was on the way, so we popped in and a cheerful and helpful lady printed out our internet tickets and even filled out the Moroccan health and safety forms for us … we just have to adjust to speaking French now!

On board, all organization went out the window, however.  Even though we had gone through customs before hand … shown our passports at least twice … it was still required that all passengers line up on board and present the various forms (2 each) and passports yet again, for stamping this time.  We lined up but nothing moved for 20 minutes — then queues formed in at least 2 other directions, all pushing at once towards just two booths.  Complete chaos with frustrations rising … and only amplified when groups of local Moroccan ladies pushed ahead of  mothers with young children and elderly people with walking aids.  None of the crew seemed interested in alleviating the situation.  We barely got through the line up before arriving in Tangier 75 minutes later.

There was a light sea mist coming into port which somehow just added to the allure and mystery of the place.   Passports got dragged out again as we disembarked (yup … we do indeed have an official stamp).  Curiously, all luggage had to go through security x-rays once more… although how anything  suspicious could have materialized on the trip over, I’m not sure.  There were cruise passengers manhandling trolley-loads of suitcases through the machines and hauling them out the other side … I looked over at the person supposedly monitoring the screens, to find him engrossed in his cell phone!  What’s the purpose?

We had three hours to kill before our check in, so we took a chance with a serious young man named Mohammed, who appeared to have official tourism credentials (yes, yes … I know), we booked him for a two hour tour around the city and walk through the Medina and Kasbah … just to get our bearings.  We’ll return at our leisure tomorrow.  Mohammed’s English was exceptional (he’d gone to university in London) and he was a wealth of  knowledge and history. We toured some of the Medina shops — local artisans  who had formed cooperatives to preserve traditional handcrafting … weaving, pottery, silverwork  and leather.  One modest-sized shop was stacked floor to ceiling with hand woven bedspreads in every size, colour and thickness… piles of gorgeously soft silk and mohair scarves and shawls — the colours and patterns mesmerizing. It would be so easy to triple the volume of one’s luggage with purchases … but perhaps we should have gone for the ‘Orrence of Arabia” headdress!!

Tour guide Mohammed checked with apartment host Mohammed regarding when to meet up — and we have until 4:00 pm … time for some food.  The Vandalucia was everything one would imagine in Tangier … up a marble staircase encased in intricately tiled walls … Moorish arches giving tantalizing views into other rooms … padded benches with silk-tasseled cushions … carved wooden lamps … and discrete pictures of King Mohammed VI in his trademark sunglasses.  The owner guided us to a table and suggested a sampling menu of traditional foods.  To start, little dishes of green and black olives, some zaalouk – made from aubergine and cumin, spicy lentils, and a dish of very hot pepper sauce (I wish I had a picture of Glen’s face after trying!) -a basket of bread for dipping.  A delicious Harira soup made from simmered chickpeas, followed by a small salad of beets, tomatoes and greens.  After that a savoury flaky pastilla of crispy filo pastry filled with spiced almonds and dusted with icing sugar (some contain pigeon meat, but I don’t think this one did).   Next were the main dishes .. chicken tajine and vegetables simmered in the traditional domed pot along with preserved lemons … and a delicately spiced chicken couscous

topped with juicy, plump raisins.  Glasses of mint tea to wash things down.  A huge plate of fruit materialized — mandarins, grapes and pomegranates … and to finish, lovely sticky honey-dipped pastries sprinkled with sesame seeds.   All the while, a live band of three gentlemen serenaded the diners – one played an Oud, there was something resembling a stringed ‘violin’, and a drum.  Often the owner joined in, and even our waiter sang along (he’s wearing the red jacket). For those of you who are Fawlty Towers fans — think of an older Arabic version of Manuel.

All that food,  ambiance and music for a paltry 35 euros – around $40 Canadian … for two!  I’m so full I won’t need to eat for a week.

That evening we braved the bustling streets — there’s more vibrancy and tempo than in Spain.  Pedestrians are definitely not molly-coddled here.  Pedestrian crossings are marked in red and white stripes, but very few of them have lights.  It’s a case of grabbing your chance and crossing in a group, if possible … and even then, cars will impatiently nose their way across in front of you, or screech to a halt just feet away.  Honking is the norm for every situation. We’ve noticed two types of taxi … Grand and Petite.  The cream-coloured multi-seat ones will often wait for multiple passengers travelling to the same destination, and the fare is divided equally among them.  The turquoise Petite cabs are for single fares, and therefore slightly more expensive, but more convenient.

Then there were the sidewalk cafes … dozens of them lining the major thoroughfares … almost exclusively inhabited by men.  Morose-looking individuals sitting in a long line, backs against the wall, staring out at the street as they nursed their small cups of strong coffee. What would happen if a woman suddenly went and sat down, I wonder?  Oooo …  the temptation was almost irresistible!

We returned to the apartment as darkness fell.  The temperature perfect for sitting on the balcony to watch the full moon rise.