When I decided to take this cruise one of the places I was most excited to visit was Gibraltar. Alas, a couple of months ago, perhaps even after final payments were due, we learned that they’d changed the stop, without explanation, from Gibraltar to Ceuta, Spain which is considered to be in “Spanish Morocco” (huh? What’s that? Turns out there’s a wee “chip” in the northern corner of Morocco that’s actually a Spanish territory in Africa). Alas, there were no excursions offered to Gibraltar. Grumble, grumble.
Fortunately, the Landsharkz and their travel agent were resourceful. Geocachers tend to value finding caches in new countries. It turns out that “Spanish Morocco” is right next to Morocco. Seems that our group was the only group on the ship to get to go there, via a ship excursion. Sign me up, even though the excursion would involve border crossings expected to take an hour each. About 30 of us are on this excursion.
We successfully left Spain and entered Morocco, heading for the city of Tetouan. Our guide, Mohammed (the most common first name in the world), was eager to please. He pointed out lots of things along the way — hotels, stork nests, restaurants, mosques, churches, schools, etc. After arriving in Tetouan, we left the bus and entered a rabbit’s warren maze of narrow streets and alleys, complete with a myriad of twists and turns, having nearly all foot traffic save an occasional motorcycle.
Like Tunisia, nearly all of the buildings were white and many of the doors were decorated with rivets, tiles, exquisite doorknobs, and painted. The “streets” were cobblestone so while looking around at the ornate decorations one also needed to be mindful of where one’s feet were landing. There was so much to look at that I didn’t even think about the lyric “narrow streets of cobblestones” until much later, though it certainly applies.
We walked through the streets where we saw homes, shops, people and cats. Lots of fresh fruits and vegetables, some elegantly displayed dates (wish I’d had the opportunity to buy some of them!), candies that looked a lot like Turkish delight, etc. Some clothing stores (women here rent the ornate two-layer dresses called caftans for occasions like wedding), lots of jewelry stores. The butcher zone was, shall we say, rather noticeable in an olfactory way, and rather more graphic than at home. Buyers can choose their chicken who is then slaughtered humanely and packaged for dinner tonight. We saw the exteriors of homes, mosques, churches, a synagogue and the monarch’s summer palace.
I was a bit nervous when we entered a door, walked up about a flight of stairs, and entered a room with carpets. I anticipated a carpet demonstration along the lines of the one that about a third of the group had endured (ok, some had probably enjoyed) in Turkey. This one was not quite as formal, though the carpets were far dustier. According to the proprietor, who was wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap (for those of us who love to hate the Yankees that may not have been a brilliant wardrobe choice, though in fairness it did not influence my purchasing or lack thereof as it is highlighted unlikely I would have considered buying a carpet in any case), everything was high quality though some was of higher quality. Different types of rugs — merino wool, Berber, and something else — made by different groups of artists. All sizes, shapes, colors and designs. After placing 25-30 or so rugs they then “reversed” the process to see if anyone was interested in a specific rug — effectively doing the cleanup before we exited. I think a couple of people bought things, but most of us expressed no interest.
The no interest crowd was escorted downstairs to a shop with a variety of Moroccan items. I immediately approached the section of cedar boxes. I picked up a couple but there were no prices. Our secondary tour guide, whose name I don’t recall but who joined us on the ground in Tetouan, offered to get prices for me. One item was $150 and the other $60 so I declined. He invited me to counter-offer or look at something else. I selected a smaller box and learned the price was $50 so I was ready to put it away. The guide told me to hold onto it then brought me back to a little room on the side of the big room and showed me a caftan to which I said I was not interested, then he tried the ceramic section with the same result. He finally asked me what I was willing to pay for the little box and I replied $20. He said to put it in my backpack, leave the store and hand him $20 outside of the store. Um, Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore, did I just hear that correctly? Between his thick accent and the surprise of the instruction I wasn’t sure I heard correctly and certainly wasn’t going to guess so did not follow the instruction. He ended up putting it into my backpack. He absolutely did not want the money inside the store. I’m confused, but figure that as a member of the group he wouldn’t be setting me up for (much) trouble so I followed this unique protocol. Meanwhile the proprietor of the store is now trying to interest me in rings — that was an easy response, I held out my hands and said that I wear this much jewelry (ie, none). Eventually I get outside, hand the guide a $20 bill, and share the story with Sue (socalifsue) who validated that I seemed to have landed at a reasonable and mutually fair price.
Eventually we meandered our way to our lunch spot. I’ve been on enough day tours that include an “authentic” lunch to be quite cynical. I was pleasantly surprised by the meal. As we entered the restaurant three musicians were playing for us, one on a drum and the other two dancing and playing what appeared to be two-note metal hand cymbals with a set in each hand. We started with a tasty vegetarian soup that might have been made with lentils or another legume and that had some tiny noodles in it. Then a beautiful salad served on a nice platter for the table — I was at a table with five others — that contained cucumbers, bell peppers, grated carrots, tomatoes, and a few other items. This was followed by a tangine of couscous, chicken and vegetables — a bit more cooked than I’d prefer but quite tasty and the cooked carrot was especially delicious. The meal concluded with a cookie that seemed to be a cross between a meringue and a biscotti accompanied by hot mint tea (yes, I had a sip, no I didn’t have more). There was also entertainment — the musicians returned, a fully clothed belly dancer (the only female who we saw all day including guides, shopkeepers, musicians, everyone involved with customs and immigration, et al), and an older man who danced with a tray of lit candles and tea balanced on his head.
We then headed back to the bus. I couldn’t resist asking how much a bag of shelled green peas was. But $5 seemed much to high in that economy and there wasn’t time to bargain so I reluctantly passed. Everyone seemed to have their hand out for tips. Having learned earlier in the day that local rents were the equivalent of about $50 per month for it didn’t seem necessary to tip in large amounts so I chose who to reward. I figured my guide had gotten a good commission on my purchase so no need to further compensate him, for example.
We’d taken the coastal route into Tetouan and the “freeway” back so the drive to the border was quicker. We’d been told to expect it take an hour to cross the border. Ever the scientist I decide to check this estimate for accuracy. The process was, one might say, excessively overly redundant and I for one wonder how they could have made the process even less efficient if they’d wanted.
At 1421 (aka 2:21pm) we reach the Moroccan border. Person #1 boards the bus and looks at some of our passport photos. He leaves the bus and the gate is opened barely wide enough for the bus to get through. The driver goes through the gate then stops. He leaves the bus and moves two sets of spikes out of the way to avoid damaging he tires. Person #2 boards the bus and looks at each of us holding our passport open to the photo and collects the passports. Person #3 is on the exterior inspecting the bus including the compartment under the seats that can hold luggage. Person #4 gets his dog out of its kennel to smell much of the exterior of the bus. Clearly the handler and the dog are a team and the dog seems eager to work. Then person #4 had a discussion with Mohammed and the driver, though the dog might be confused since it’s still on the leash (ie on duty) yet sitting in the kennel (ie, not on duty). The conversation ends, person #4 removes the leash and closes the kennel so the dog is clearly off duty. Eventually passports are returned, a few at a time; the bus moves forward before all of the passports are back which is a bit uncomfortable as I was one of the last to receive mine back. Interestingly, there are several other people sitting on a variety of chairs throughout the area, perhaps the job is a “bring your own chair” situation. Somewhere in all of this I begin coughing a lot, a bit awkward but I felt incredibly supported by friends who came to my rescue to the extent that they could.
Three cheers, we are now officially in no man’s land and it’s 1452. The bus moves about 100 meters toward Spanish re-entry. Person #5, a Spanish police officer boards the bus, checks everyone’s passport photo and leaves the bus.
We move toward the EU re-entry at 1457. Person #6, a different Spanish police officer collects everyone’s passports, checking yet again that each photo and person appear to match. At 1504 passports start coming back for the final time; it took 5 batches which is probably similar to each of the other three times we’ve done this procedure today. Mine is returned with batch 4. Now Person #7 walks through the bus while Person #8 looks under the bus and at the suitcase area.
We complete the process and re-enter Spain at 15:18. Total elapsed time: 57 minutes.
The bus finishes the last few minutes of the drive back to the boat and we actually arrive three minutes before the 1530 all aboard time (though since we were on a ship-sponsored excursion the ship would have waited so we were not in danger of missing the boat).
Wouldn’t want to do this type of activity every day, but really glad I got to see a corner of Morocco. Definitely a place I’d like to return to explore one day.
And I still really want to visit Gibraltar.
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