Traveling - it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller. ~ Ibn Battuta
Tarifa, Spain and Tangier, Morocco
Algeciras, Spain looks like a hell hole. It was by far the most run-down city I've seen in all of my Spain travels. It could be just the part of the city I was in but even the bus ride out of the city reinforced the thought in my mind "I am soooo glad I am not staying in this town". Honestly, Spaniards seem to take a lot of pride in their homes and their surroundings, but Algeciras... I don't know what happened here.
This is the nest of a huge bird - perhaps a heron. The pole seems to be the preferred height for nesting as I saw a lot of these along my travels
The bus station is right across the street from the train station. Of course I have trouble finding it! Argh! After walking in circles through the parking lot of the train station I "think" it might be on the other side of the round-about. Yes, I eventually find it. I don't have a bus ticket. Could not for the life of me figure out how to purchase a ticket on line. I go inside the station and inquire but am told just to pay the driver directly at stall #12. I have to wait about an hour for the bus. So many smokers.... I can't escape it.
I googled to find out the percentage of smokers in Spain. Well I don't believe everything I read on Google. It said that only 22% of Spaniards smoke and that 20% of Canadian smoke. There is NO WAY I believe those stats. It may very well be 20% of Canadians but from my observations I would guess the smoking rate in Spain is close to the 40% range. What really baffles me is in a group of people, the non-smokers just sit there breathing in the toxins from second-hand smoke. I don't see any of them trying to move away, or the smokers holding their cigarettes in such a way as to attempt to have the wafting smoke go another direction. People smoke at outside dining tables, in line-ups, at transit stops, and in the doorways of businesses.
Your guess is as good as mine as to why the only convenience store at the bus station would sell ladies boots and man's shoes plus a myriad of other items that make no sense at all.
The bus shows up and I load my luggage underneath. I find myself a window seat. Gawd, it's a hilly curvy ride to Tarifa. We pass lots of wind farms and I can see the ocean. Looks beautiful. But the roads... oh my goodness they are curvy and mountainous.
We enter Tarifa and the bus goes right down the main street. My hostal (no clue why it is spelled with an A instead of hostEl) is an easy 10 minute walk in a straight line. Of course... you know what's coming. I take a wrong turn. I go up and down the same two blocks about 4 times and then I clue in that I am supposed to cross the street. My hostal is inside the walls of the old city. Now that I know that, it's very easy to find it.
The entrance to the Old City of Tarifa
My hostal is only a 1 minute walk from the entrance to the Old City. I find it no problem. I get checked in and when Loris, the receptionist, shows me to my room I am surprised that it's an actual room that I get all to myself. I thought I was in a 3-bed hostel but no, it is 3 private bedrooms on the floor and all 3 rooms share one bathroom. Well this is a very welcome surprise. This means for the rest of my trip I now get a room all to myself. No more hostels! Woohoo!
Loris has given me the lay of the land and a map. First thing I want to do is to check out the beach.
The "Old City" is where it all happens in Tarifa. It takes me only about 5 minutes to get to the beach - it's that small of an area. I love what I see but man is it windy. Holy fricken toledo. The sand it whipping me and it friggen hurts! I see the kite surfers that Tarifa is known for. So cool.
* Warning * It was extremely windy so you hear a lot of wind in this video and you can't hear some of what I'm saying. You may want to turn your volume down.
It seems I've finally hit a cold spot in Spain. The kite surfers are wearing wet suits and there's a constant wind in the town but thankfully it's not so bad in town as it is down at the beach.
In dire need of a new sign.
I am standing on a little bridge which goes to a secure military area. On the left side of this sign is the Mediterranean Sea. On the right side of the sign is the Atlantic Ocean. Across the Strait of Gibraltar is the continent of Africa and more specifically the country Morocco.
I walk along the seawall a bit and am afraid of getting lost so I leave the seawall at the next opening. I find my way back to my hostal quite easily. It's quite an easy town to navigate as you can see the old castle from many places and I know my hostal is nearby.
Loris has recommended a few dining options. It's not exactly dinner time yet (9:00 PM things only just get started - I've seen groups come in at 10:00 or 10:30 PM to order a meal), it's only about 7:30. I find the small place and it appears that tuna is their specialty. The waiter explains all the dishes to me. I order the tuna tataki and he recommends I also have the potato and shrimp salad. Both dishes were delicious.
Big flakes of salt on the tuna
The lounge area of my hostal where you can see the kite surfers, ferries and Africa from the roof top
It makes for a long day with these retail hours.
A 3-hour siesta in mid-day. Apparently the workers go home IF they live close enough to their workplace.
Entrance to someone's home
The quiet streets of Tarifa
I call this "holy goat cheese" salad. I wasn't expecting the entire brick of cheese on top! It was 11 Euros ($16.50 Cdn). So not worth it. 4 cherry tomatoes and some nuts with minimal lettuce.
After lunch, I go back to my hostal and hang out in the roof-top lounge area. It's so beautiful up there. They did a really nice job of decorating it and I've only ever seen one person up there - she seems to be studying for something so I never spoke with her except to say "hi". I enjoy the views and the wind from the roof top deck.
I decide I'd better walk to the bus depot and buy my bus ticket for the day I need to leave Tarifa. The bus depot isn't open on Saturday or Sunday and I just like to know that I have a ticket in hand and not have to depend on getting a ticket from the driver in case something unplanned happens and I can't get on the bus because I don't have a ticket. I time it - it takes exactly 10 minutes.
I want to go to Tangier, Morocco tomorrow on the fast ferry. I just happen to see the FRS ferry office so I stop in and ask about a ticket. I buy it right there on the spot. I can get a guided tour with FRS but I want to go on my own. It's 61 Euros for a return ticket. Very expensive at $90 Cdn. The 9:00 AM is sold out so I have to go on the 11:00 AM. I ask the woman if it's worthwhile going for only 6 or 7 hours and she says it's enough time and that their tours go at 11:00 and come back at 6:00. Okay good because that's a lot of money to spend for only a few hours. She tells me that I need to be at the ferry at least an hour before departure and when returning from Tangier, I must be at the ferry AT LEAST 75 minutes before departure because there will be a lot of people wanting to come back. I have an open-ended ticket just in case I want to stay in Tangier until the 10:00 PM boat back but I feel uneasy about crossing the ocean in the dark and I'm pretty sure I'll be catching the 6:00 PM boat as planned. The lady gives me my hard copy ticket and a white slip of paper and a yellow slip of paper. She tells me to make sure I fill out both slips of paper and that I will have to hand one of them in to Morocco Customs office on ship. Once I'm on the ship, I need to find that office and submit my passport for stamping.
Dinner hasn't started yet. I'm walking trying to find a place to eat.
The Church at the end of the street was my marker on where to turn to return to my Hostal
I don't know what I want to eat this night I wander the streets of the Old Town. Nothing really appeals to me.
I look up a little alley-way and see one restaurant lit up. I decide to see what it looks like. It actually looks very nice - fancy almost. I see they have a big thick reservation book - it's a white linen type of place. I walk in and get a seat because it's only about 8:15 PM or so. The Spaniards won't be showing up for at least another hour.
This pork was so delicious. Tender, super juicy and spiced wonderfully. But look at how much meat is on that plate. Enough for 3 people! The never-ending french fries and dreaded eggplant for veg.
I also had a bowl of Pescatore (soup). It may have been a potato broth, white rice, hamon, and a boiled egg. It was delicious. I'd like to know how to make this soup.
I'm back at my hostal at about 10:00 and don't stay up too late as I want to be up by 8:00 AM as I have to eat breakfast and then get to the ferry. The ferry is really only a 5-minute walk from my hostal. Everything in Tarifa seems to only be a 5 or 10 minute walk away.
I am at the ferry terminal by 9:45. It's jam-packed in there. Must be several hundred people. So many tour groups - you can tell who they are because they're all wearing colour-coded stickers on their shirts. It's so hot in the building that I need to wait outside and I do that until I see the ferry approaching.
I think this would be considered a Catamaran
The ferry takes cars and people but I only saw five cars get off of it. The rest of the car deck was empty.
We have to go through passport control and anything we are carrying needs to be scanned. I never thought of that but of course we are traveling to another country so it makes sense.
Everyone walks onto the boat via the car deck. All luggage is left unsecured on the car deck. The ferry is very nice inside. Almost a cruise ship feel to it with a nice big staircase and balcony overlooking the lower floor. Very nice seats - nothing at all like BC Ferries.
Inside the ferry
Tarifa beaches and wind farms
I don't have a clue where to go to find the the Moroccan Customs but I see a huge line and I guess that must be what people are doing. There is no signage at all. The line snakes around the entire ship - I kid you not. I don't know how long I wait for but probably about 30 minutes or so. Eventually I am at the Immigration booth. He takes one of the coloured slips of paper and stamps my passport and voila I'm admissible into Morocco on the continent of Africa.
The ride over was very nice. It was a beautiful day for being on the water.
On the ferry
Inside the FRS ferry that goes between Tarifa and Tangier. Than mass of people are lined up for Moroccan passport control
When the boat docks, we walk quite a ways and go through some Moroccan passport check - the guy just makes sure you passport has been stamped by the passport control on the ship. Apparently if you don't have the stamp from the ship, they turn you around and put you right back onto the boat you sailed in on.
The Moroccan ferry terminal is huge. It reminds me of being in an airport because it's that big. I follow all the tourists hoping they know where they're going. As we exit the terminal, I ask a guy with an FRS ferry logo on his shirt where I go to change my Euros into Moroccan Dirham. He says "follow me" and he walks me right out to two white vans with the back doors open and each with a sign that says "Cambio". Okay... is this really legit? I mean exchanging money out of the back of a van definitely sounds sketchy. There are two English speaking women in front of me exchanging money. The first woman is double counting the bills he gave her. I ask them how much they are exchanging for they day. I had planned to change only 50 Euros but they both say they are exchanging 100 Euros because if they find something they want to buy they want to make sure they have enough cash. Okay, I think I'll exchange 100 Euros too. I get 1,062 Dirham. I double-count what he has given me too. Meanwhile, while the money exchange is going on, some Moroccan dude is trying to talk me into going on a tour with him. He already has two tourists on his tour and I will be the third. I ask him how much he is charging and he says 40 Euros I ask him the length of his tour and he says two hours. I say 40 Euros? No way am I paying 40 Euros! The FRS ferry guy is trying to talk me into it. My radar is up. I think he's in on it and that's why he was so very eager to walk me right to the Cambio. The Moroccan tout is on me like fly to horsesh*t! All the while I am not being talked into anything. I tell him I am going to go by myself and he tries to tell me that it's not a good idea. I already researched Tangier and more specifically the Medina (walled city) on YouTube and Trip Advisor when I was at home - I know exactly where to go and how to get there. I refuse the guided tour and the two English women are impressed. One says "geez, you are strong. Good for you!" We say our goodbyes and wish one another a good day.
The ferry terminal parking lot is quite large although I sure don't see very many cars just tons of people. I have a tout on me the entire time trying to persuade me to go on a tour - again! I just keep walking and saying "No!" He doesn't leave my side until I walk through the barricades exiting the ferry terminal.
The first building I see when exiting the ferry terminal
Part of the Medina (old walled city)
Just ahead of me I spot a guide with two tourists. I presume he's taking them exactly where I want to go so I follow behind. Sure enough, just like I had read on Trip Advisor, you start up the hill and before you know it it's like you're in another land (and really you are in another land).
In hindsight I see that I didn't take any video in Tangier. I think I was too overwhelmed and engrossed in what I was seeing to think about it.
Yes, payphones still exist
These leather items looked as if they had been hanging there for decades. Either that or they had already been worn by someone
Even Tangier has a rainbow walkway
It's just all men. I saw very few women this day
He is hand crocheting onto a garment
So many cats in Tangier. They're obviously all street cats. This poor kitten looked so mangy and looks like he's been through the wringer of life already. I saw butcher shops feeding raw chicken scraps to the cats. Heck, I even saw a cat wander into the Immigration line-up (inside the Tangier ferry building) and past the officer while I was waiting to get stamped out of Morocco.
The entrance to the Medina It's very tiny and cars do squeeze through there.
I saw this man come out of his house. He put on his hood, walked with a cane and was hustling it somewhere in a hurry. Notice the old tire just propped up there. It's definitely a dirty city with junk left lying in the streets
It's a very hilly city. Lots of TV dishes and rarely any Wifi
All sorts of olives
More olives
Flowers for sale
The freshest nougat I've ever eaten. Notice all the bees in there too?
No white gold for Tangier brides
I wander the streets, look in a lot of shops, and say "no thanks" a bajillion times to people trying to sell me something. I do, however, buy a few things from men who did not pressure me or push me. I bought a kaftan for 6 Euros, a bracelet for 8 euros and a new carpet for my living room which will be couriered to me. Disappointingly though, I am fairly certain I bought the wrong size of carpet. I think it may be too big but will hopefully be able to make it work. I am fairly certain my current living room area rug is 5 x 7. He laid out a 5 x 7 and it looked so very small that it made me question if that was actually the size I needed. I changed my mind and said maybe it's 7 x 9. I ended up buying a 7 X 9 handwoven carpet but as each day passes I am fairly convinced I needed a 5 X 7 rug. Argh!
I buy a black leather purse from a man. He speaks good English so I ask him if he can recommend a place for lunch. He takes me outside and points down the hill, then I'm to take a left and then a right... oh geez. But as luck would have it, an old man who looks exactly like Ghandi passes by. The old man has a buzz shaved head, round glasses and walks with a cane and is wearing a robe of sorts. The "purse man" asks the old man to show me where to eat and tells him to take me to the fish shop and if that is busy then to take me some place else (that I don't understand). The old man tells me in very good English to "follow me". He asks me where I'm from and then proceeds to tell me all that he knows of Canada. He shares a lot of information with me about different cities in Canada. All the while he is walking super fast and I'm trying my best to keep up with him. At one point some people get in between us and I see him hustling with his cane in hand making a bee-line for somewhere... he does look back and and sees I'm not behind him and he stops to wait for me.
He turns left, then right and then left again and we're at the fish shop. Not exactly the type of restaurant I had in mind. This is a fish stall of sorts that cooks up the fish for you . In the back behind the kitchen are some tables and chairs that may sit a dozen people at the very most. He speaks one of the many Algerian/Moroccan languages to the men working the fish counter. He tells me there is no place to sit so he will take me to the other restaurant. Hold on - they make room for me. I ask the old man what I should order and he points out two types of fish. I just point at one and say "I'll have that". I walk through the "kitchen" and have a seat. The old man hovers and says "can I have a tip"? Oh, okay. I give him some money (can't recall how much it was but he seems okay with it) and he says goodbye and leaves.
Lunch arrives. The fish doesn't look like what I was expecting. Honestly, it was almost all bones and skin, very little "meat" on it at all. Oh well, I ate the fries and the little bit of fish. I even ordered a coke. I haven't had a soda pop in several years. It tasted so good. I ate one olive. Didn't taste like the ones in Spain. I didn't eat the bread as I was thinking about how many flies have probably sat on that bread today.
Lunch (fish and chips)
Dessert was good
By this point, I really need to go the bathroom. I ask the restaurant guys where I would find a bathroom. They tell me "coffee shop" and point. I head that way and ask four teenage girls if they speak English. They say "no". I say "bathroom, el bano, water closet" and one says "in the coffee shop right there". Oh, I do see something but wouldn't have guessed it to be a coffee shop. I walk in and they look at me as if to say "can I help you" and I reply "bathroom". He points me to a corner. OMG! It's literally a square box with a door, a filthy disgusting mess, the floor is wet. No toilet paper. No trash can. No hook to hang your purse. No soap, AND it's right in the coffee shop, like not down a little hallway or in the back -- it's just right there smack dab beside the guys making coffee. In the amount of time it took me to use the facilities, the light turned off three times and I was in darkness! Seriously, I was so grossed out by the whole experience. Good on the coffee shop though for letting absolutely anyone and everyone use it. Yuck!
The rug I bought
I stop to browse at some little carpets. They're nice but there's no way I can bring that weight home in my luggage eventhough I have the space. The man speaks good English and when I tell him I don't have the weight left in my luggage he tells me to follow him. He takes me upstairs in his shop and shows me all the packages that are addressed and being shipped to North America. He and his helper start showing me carpets and carpets and more carpets. In the end, when he tells me the price and I convert it to Canadian dollars I tell him that's it's way too much money as a Canadian dollar is costing me $1.53 to buy a Euro. He knocks down the price $300 and charges me in Canadian dollars. When I agree to buy it, he whispers to me to pay the helper 20 Euros for his time. Huh? I should have refused but I did give the helper 20 Euros. I mean, perhaps he doesn't get any wage except for these "tips" for the work of him pulling carpets and refolding them and laying them out all day long, I really don't know. But on principle I think the store owner should have paid the guy and not expect the customer to pay the guy. I mean 20 Euros for 30 minutes of work is a damn good salary in Morocco or even in Canada.
Just a few months ago I said that I really need to replace my living room carpet. I've had it cleaned about 5 times over 10 years and it's started to fray on one end and looking pretty warn. Well, I end up buying this carpet for $100 more than I paid for the carpet I am currently using which I got on sale 50% off back in the day. It's a bit of money but I'm not going to find a carpet like this at home for what I paid for it directly from the dealer. I didn't think to ask about duty... time will tell when it gets delivered what I get dinged for duty. [NB: when the carpet arrived in Vancouver I had to pay $150 Cdn. duty].
I am tired of Tangier. It's been too much of a culture shock for me. The language barrier, the filth, the "sell, sell, sell" in my face all day long, the disgusting bathroom, I've had enough. I want to go back to the ferry. I have about two hours until the boat sails but I'm ready to go back now. I start down the hill not knowing where I am but know that as long as I go down hill eventually I'll reach flat land and should be able to figure out where the ferry terminal is. A young man (perhaps 18 or 20 years old), speaks to me in English and says "are you going to the ferry"? I reply "yes". He says "just follow me". I start following him, he looks back to see if I'm still with him... now my radar is up. Is he taking me to a shop to try to sell me something? He is very friendly and talking very good English. We reach a lookout point that I have already taken photos from earlier in the day. He says "if you come up here you can see the ferry". I go up only a few steps - okay I believe him. I tell him "I know the way from here, thank you very much", thinking he's going to ask me to give him some money but he doesn't. He just says "goodbye, have a nice day" and I feel shitty for thinking he had an ulterior motive.
I am super early to the ferry. The security guy lets me inside the building and tells me to have a seat until it's time for me to go to Immigration. Oh yah, I forgot that I would need to be stamped out of Morocco. Eventually, he gives the all clear and the handful of us that are in the waiting area proceed upstairs to Immigration and passport control. Immigration doesn't say a word to me, grabs my passport and the coloured slip of paper and stamps my passport. I've never felt so glad to be moving on.
I'm happy to see Tarifa once again
Some reading on the ferry
The ferry is jam-packed. We are on a much smaller boat than the one going over. This boat is only one floor and there doesn't appear to be an outside deck. It's really delayed. We left Tangier a half hour late and with the time that I was at the ferry terminal in advance, it's been like a four hour journey until my feet hit Spanish soil from the ferry terminal in Tangier.
The boat docks and once again we line up for Immigration. Geez, this day trip has been hours of lining up for Immigration, security, boarding and unboarding.
I go back to my hostal momentarily but really need to eat something before bed. I am beat. I feel like Tangier chewed me up and spit me out. Literally! I really just want a bowl of that delicious soup that I ate last night so I go back to the same restaurant. I tell them I'll just sit at the bar as I only want a bowl of soup. I do need two glasses of wine, however!
In the morning I pack up all my stuff and go out to find a bite to eat before I head to the bus depot. I want to be at the bus station no later than lunchtime. I find this nice cafe a street over from the hostal. Oh... I wish I had found this place sooner. I ate a delicious breakfast with a ton of fruit on top of a crepe.
There is a crepe under all of that fruit
I go back to the hostal, grab my suitcase and check out. I pay 50 Euros for my last two nights' stay (the first night was already paid for). That was a cheap room and a good room. I'd definitely recommend Hostal Africa if you're ever in Tarifa.
I walk the 10 minutes to the bus depot. It's hot out and barely a breeze which is odd for Tarifa. I find some shade and the bus is 20 minutes late It doesn't come til 12:50. I get a window seat and take in all I can of Tarifa as I will never come back here but I sure did like this little town an awful lot.
Next stop, Seville!
NB: I have not proofread this yet but want to post it before it "disappears" or too many days pass before I can get to it.
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