Morocco 2010 trip report - Getting out

I arrived at Tangier in the evening just before sunset. My flight to Bergamo would leave only on the day after the next, early in the morning. The plan was to stay one night in a hotel in Tangier and then sleep at the airport on the second night. First I checked the hotel my Iraqi friend Joad had used. The price had 'suddenly' risen by 50 % (I bet this had nothing to do with the fact that I don't speak Arabic) so I had to try my old hotel again. Well, the price had gone up there too! This time I was able to bargain the price down to what it was before and got into my room.

Figs were tasty and cheap in Morocco.

This time I had some 3rd (or 666th) class room with absolutely no ventilation and a leaking tap. This combination meant that everything inside felt cold and wet, including the bed and linen. I was too lazy to run around chasing for a better room so I accepted my faith and hoped not to get ill.

I was pretty hungry after all the travelling and wanted to eat. On my way to a restaurant I ran to my old 'friend' who had showed me the hotel in the first place almost two weeks ago. He invited me to a small cafe with him to watch football. I think Germany and Australia were playing. I drank mint tea and had a small conversation with him before I got too hungry and left. Later in the evening I went to some market to buy fruits for breakfast and went to sleep.

Spot the socks!

During the night I tried to stay warm and dry with a thick blanket that didn't feel so wet. In the morning I was happy to realize that I wasn't ill after all. After checking out from the hotel I headed straight to the beach and hung my wet clothes to some trees there to make them dry. Even there, in the morning, I was approached twice by men offering prostitutes and/or drugs.

I tried to kill time before setting off to the airport by eating, by buying some souvenirs and postcards for relatives and in an Internet cafe. I even met the old friend friend/guide of mine and had a little chat before leaving. Finally at about 6 pm I decided to take a taxi to the airport for 100 dh. I still had some money left after the taxi trip and as I knew I would never come back to Morocco I wanted to use it all. The prices at the airport were ridiculous but I didn't see any other place nearby either. I checked my watch and thought that maybe I'll have time to walk to some village nearby before the shops are closed.

For the first twenty minutes it didn't look so good. There was nothing but a road and endless fields around. I decided that if I haven't found anything in an hour I'll turn back. Ten minutes more and I found a crossroad. The other road was the one my taxi had used and there was nothing there as far as I could see or remember so I took the other one. In a while I saw some apartment buildings further away and had my hopes up that I'll find something there. Luck was on my side that day and there indeed was something: a small restaurant, a kiosk and a shop.

The restaurant proved to be an interesting one. The staff didn't speak any English at all and I just asked for the price and ordered "something" (apparently the only dish they offered). In a while they brought me a plate with something that looked like some kind of soup with a chicken leg in it and french fries on top. Oh, and I got bread too. The funny thing was that they didn't offer any tools for eating. I started chewing those french fries first because they were the easiest to eat by hand. Soon a local young man would come to the restaurant and have the same meal. I observed him and realized that they indeed don't use any tools. In no time I had a chicken leg in one hand and french fries in another. With the soup I didn't find any other way but to drink it from the plate.

Tangier is more than capable of defending itself.

The Tangier airport

With stomach full I continued my shopping spree to the kiosk and shop. I stacked everything I thought could be useful to survive through the night and started walking back to the airport. Not long after leaving the village a pair of local young men came to me and started chatting. It didn't take long to understand that they were on drugs and damn annoying. For some insane reason (I'm sure on drugs it made all sense) one of the men wanted to walk with me and explain some apparently very important things in French. Finally at the airport he understood to leave me alone.

The airport of Tangier is rather small and there aren't any great places for sleeping. The good thing is that it isn't a busy airport either so the place doesn't have to be that great. While I was packing my stuff once again a guard of some kind from the airport came to me and asked if I can give him some juice. I had plenty so I agreed. I thought that he'd have a sip or two or fill a mug but hey, this is Morocco. The fucker walked away with the whole carton. Typical Morocco till the bitter end. I felt like kicking the shit out of him but decided that maybe it's better not to have a fight over a 5 dh juice carton.

Finally I put my mattresses on the floor and started sleeping. At around 4 am I woke up, brushed my teeth and walked through the passport control. Not long after the plane was taking off. Bye bye Morocco. Never again.