I woke up just before the wake up call at 7:00am. I quickly ate my last apple while getting ready and repacking all of my stuff that had somewhat dried. Downstairs I met with Alan, the tour guide. He was man in his early 50's with wild hair. None of the other kids had stayed at the hostel so Alan and I walked over to the ferry port in the rain. I was carrying the food bag as Alan had his large backpack and small front bag. Arriving at the ferry port, we went up the stairs and I met the rest of the group. I am the only boy on the trip. There are 15 girls, 13 of them who are living in Granada and two from Madrid.
We hung out in the café of the port and I ordered a pan con tomate and a zumo de naranja and ate it by myself before getting up to sit down next to one of the groups of girls. We talked about travel and it was obvious and personally fascinating to be able to see the differences in the study abroad programs and how much I've grown and changed in the last six months. All of the girls are living in homestay families and will be in Spain until May having arrived in January. We must have waited for about 45 minutes before Alan told us that the fast boat from Algeciras was cancelled. He then said, what I considered to be a tittle of a movie or song, that we would take "Taxis to Tarifa" and that I would go in the first to talk with the ticket office and customs officials.
In the taxi the rain was pounding. I asked the driver if the rain would clear and since the weather was bad in Algeciras, wouldn't it be worse in Tarifa, the windsurfing capital of the world. I called Alan to make sure of what he wanted me to do. We arrived in Tarifa at 8:50, 10 minutes before the boat was supposed to leave. I quickly ran in and talked to the ticket lady and the customs official to ask if they could wait. After a lot of back and forth, we eventually were able to board the "fast boat" to Tangier. One of the girls had forgotten her passport in Granada so we were still waiting to see if she could even go to Morocco. I guess she received a faxed copy of the passport from their study center. On the boat, I went out on the deck to look at the ocean before coming back inside for a brief orientation. The boat was apparently stuck in the harbor and after 15 or so minutes a man came out telling us the ride was cancelled due to bad weather. That meant we had to get off the boat and wait in the cafe of the Tarifa port while a bus from Algeciras came to pick us up. It wasn't a total waste though as I talked to the girls.
Once we arrived in Algeciras we bought tickets for the "slow boat" that was leaving at 1:00pm. We boarded the slow boat that lived up to its name by taking a total of 4 hours to cross the mere 8 miles between Algeciras and Tangier. I think I can swim faster than that. I found a seat by the window and continued talking to the girls. They are all from New England area and all of the them go to Boston College and Stonehill University with the exception of one of the girls from Madrid who goes to USC. Once the boat was underway, I went out on the deck. It was windy and wet. There were some shady characters. I felt like Jason Bourne on the boat to Naples. One of the girls came out and we talked on the deck as we passed Gibraltar. I randomly talked to a Moroccan boat worker about religion and politics in Spanish.
Back inside a little blown by the wind, we had to wait in line to get our passports restamped as we had received a stamp in Tarifa. We then all regrouped to pay Alan, which would have been fine except that he made the collection of 3 grand so obvious I'm surprised we didn't get jacked right there. He is married to a Spaniard and served in the Peacecorps so I want to talk to him, but his operation skills are a little weak. Due to our delay we missed all of the morning activities in Morocco. I was a little annoyed although I new it would still be a good trip.
The rest of the boat ride was long, tedious and I was getting quire frustrated considering in the end we missed the entire day including the camel rides. The boat took about 3 1/2 hours to arrive in Tangier and due to the rough weather and ride many of the people on board were sick. Arriving in Tangier, none of the walk on passengers were allowed to the leave the ship for almost an hour. I was getting really annoyed and ready to start pushing my way out, jumping overboard and swimming to shore. We eventually got off and met up with our driver of the private van. He was a more patient man than me as he had been waiting for us since 9:00am in the morning. I would have left a long time ago.
We piled in and drove through Tangier after exchanging currency, dirhams, and buying a couple of cases of bottled war to avoid the Moroccan equivalent of "Montazuma's Revenge." We were about 8 hours behind schedule and had missed the visit to the women's center, which would have been interesting and also the camel rides, which although I've already ridden in Israel I wanted to do again.
Driving south along the Atlantic Ocean we stopped for a dinner and a walk through the medina of Alminiras. Alan put in an order for 18, including the driver, for tajin at a restaurant. We then walked through the old city with its beautiful architecture, white buildings, and cobble stone streets. Picking up a wandering tourguide who spoke a little English, he showed us some local spots like the public bread bakery. The city was nice, a Spanish resort town. Every year in July all of the walls are painted white and artists from all over the world come to paint murals. The walls are repainted at the end of the festival.
The restaurant was nice and the food quite good. I felt a lot better after eating and was excited to head to Rabat to stay with the homestay families. We then drove for 3 hours in the rain, with Alan telling us Peace Corps stories. I nodded off for a bit. Waking up, we were talking about the homestay situation. We would divide into groups of three. I would partner up with two girls, the ones from Madrid who I found quite cool and I would stay at the house that accepted both girls and boys.
Arriving in Rabat, we got out into the pouring rain. We then walked past our meeting point for tomorrow morning. We turned a street and entered a Moroccan house with lots of people in it; our homestay families. Ashraf, a hipply dressed, young 30's man, was my home stay dad. We walked with him a block and entered his two story house. The house was quite beautiful with colorful tiles and a the colorful glass lamps over the lights. I'm not sure what he did for a living but the modest house was juxtaposed by a 54 inch plasma HD TV hanging on the wall of the living room and room where the girls would be sleeping. He was in the process of adding French subtitles to pirated American TV shows. We met his wife, Wesla, a young woman who was also modernly dressed and wearing a head scarf. They were both very kind and I felt bad to refuse food, but I'd just eaten. They showed us our rooms. My bed was the wrap around couch. They also had a dog, which surprised me. The girls were really tired and went to bed. Ashraf and I stayed up for a bit and I showed him pictures of my family and he showed me an old photo album. He is Berber and speaks English, French, Berber, and Arabic fluently. He is learning Spanish.
I fell asleep listening to the rain pound on the roof.
No comments:
Post a Comment