Early on Saturday morning, I bade a hearty farewell to Pablo at Sevilla´s bus station, then prepared for the next leg of my adventure. I bussed from Sevilla to Algeciras all Saturday morning and met up with the Austrian couple (Barry and Beth) there in the afternoon. We all three agreed that we wanted to move fast and see as much as possible before heading back to Spain in four days time. We had heard that Tangiers was a tourist trap and not particularly safe for unseasoned travellers, especially at night, so we headed almost directly from the ferry port to the train station and were in Asilah, a relaxed coastal holiday town about three hours south of Tangiers, by about 11pm. We found a friendly camping ground and fell asleep almost moments after setting up the tent, about midnight, for sheer travel exhaustion.
The next day we awoke surrounded by literally hundreds of campers holidaying in Asilah from all over Morocco! Busy families, grandparents and cousins were all busy around the water taps and bathrooms having their morning mint teas and breakfasts. Barry came back from the bathroom really excited and announced that we didn´t need to buy water because all the locals were drinking straight from the tap! I had to burst his bubble and explain that the locals had adjusted to the tap water in their childhoods, but that we would be too sensetive and could get very sick. We walked into the town centre that afternoon and looked around the food markets, enjoying the bustle of life and the relaxed atmosphere. We also explored the country style 'bazaar' shops for which Morocco was famous and took in the culture a little. I bought a toy oud, which is a kind of small, Arabic style guitar that is commonly found across North Africa. Barry bought some leather slip on shoes. Beth tried on some outfits but didn´t find anything that fit. At dinner we each decided that we only had time for each of us to choose one wish we wanted to fulfill whilst in Morocco: I said I wanted to buy comfortable sandals in a proper ´souk´ (marketplace). Barry wanted to take a surfing lesson in Rabat, Morocco´s capital. Beth wanted to eat really good, home-made couscous. As Beth and my wishes were not place specific, we all decided to hop a train to Rabat that night.
The train journey was an experience in itself. The general rules are:
- sit if you can find a seat.
- put something down on seats you want to keep if you get up for anything
- don´t get involved in any Moroccan arguments (well, heated debates ...). You can´t possibly win! Just sit back and enjoy the entertainment.
- bring you own water and snacks. Also, bring some extra water for the elderly lady faint from heat exhaustion and second hand smoke inhalation in the corner next to the window that doesn´t open.
The train can sit at the station waiting to take off for between two minutes and an hour, but rest assured the regulars don´t know exactly when it will leave either. There are no signs or announcements, or sometimes stations, where the train stops. So you had better have some idea of how far/ long you are supposed to be travelling for and if there are any train changeovers half way through. You could try asking someone who speaks English, but chances are they will try to give you helpful directions even if they actually have no idea.
The whole train journey seemed to be a fairly social, meet and greet affair. This turned out not to only make the five hour train ride (supposed to be three) a whole lot more interesting, but meant that when the train did finally stop in the middle of nowhere and everyone jumped off the train, the people we were sitting next to took pity on our confusion. In very broken English, one man told us everyone had to get off and wait for another train to Merakesh, which would arrive in a few minutes, or for a later train to Rabat, which would arrive in about twenty at a differend bend in the tracks. He apologised that he was going to Merakesh so could not stay to make sure we got on the train to Rabat alright, but then asked around for someone going to Rabat who could show us the way. He talked to a few people in Arabic and then directed us to follow a small family with a lot of luggage who spoke no English at all. Although it turns out that this little family were not actually going our way at all, the train inspector who was checking our tickets just as the train was about to head off to Fez did. He was able to point us to yet another train nearby that was on its last call. We jumped off the second train, ran fast and were pulled aboard the moving third train by an open door full of helpful hands. The final proof that we were on the right train this time, however, only came two hours later when we actually pulled into Rabat´s main train station on Avenue Mohammed V at about midnight.
We wandered through the empty streets of uptown Rabat, past the shop windows with prices that surprisingly matched most Spanish prices I had seen. The streets were palm lined, decorated with neon lights, comparatively clean and all but empty! We saw almost as many uniformed police around that night as people in the train station. We meandered towards the Medina looking for hotels to stay in, but we were out of luck. The first few places were too pricey. The next few were full. Some hotels had no windows or showers, whilst others were full of cockroaches. Finally, at about 2am, we found the Hotel Gaulois which had single rooms for about 13 euros a night. The Hotel Gaulois boasts a shower and toilet for every floor of the hotel, floor assistants, daily cleaning services, a twenty-four hour desk, friendly staff who can speak some English, a decently priced breakfast and a lobby decorated largely in crimson velvet. After the range of hotel shambles we had looked at that night, I was impressed!
Next time on Tempest Trails:
- Negotiating Morocco without a net!
- How will Tempest get back to Barcelona?
- Birthday bash!
- Who was Gus?
Some Tempest Time.
Some Tempest Channel.
