Settling onto a wooden bench to wait for the two-hour wait for our train, I told Jen that I thought I was a little bit in love with the ticket agent. It was less about his looks than his manner. Though, with his handsome face and the thick, caramel-colored scar running down the bridge of his nose, his looks were nothing short of intriguing. But that he wanted nothing more from us than our train fare and the English words for “top” and “bottom” made him the sole person we’d met in Tangier that did not want to take advantage of us.
Our Lonely Planet guide book had warned us about Tangier. We read it, and we thought we understood. But those were just words. I do not think there is any way to adequately prepare a person for just how it feels to step off the ferry and into a swarm of men, all telling you, “come this way.” Not one of them wanted to help us. They wanted our money and they wanted to intimidate us. That much was clear. We were bullied, lied to and frightened, all between the ferry and the train station.
It’s quite possible to fall in love with Marrakech -- to grow accustomed to the smell of kerosene in your hair and clothes, to see the charm in the hard sell of local merchants in the souqs, even to imagine missing the booming, 4:20 AM call to prayer from the surrounding minarets. But what we appreciated about Tangier was the cab driver who only sort of swindled us, and who was maybe a little less intimidating.
The station master himself had even tried to prey on us -- an indication that we were not to let down our guard while in Tangier. It wasn’t until we were tucked away in our couchettes for the overnight journey to Marrakech that we were able to relax. And still, not completely. I’d be lying if I said our experience in Tangier didn’t taint the rest of my Moroccan experience. But it did take a full day in Marrakech for me to take a break from feeling defensive, from being a bit afraid.
But like I said, it’s quite possible to fall in love with Marrakech. Or rather, maybe it’s impossible not to.
Ya fish, there is nothing to prepare you for asault by swarm. I so wanted to break the advice free rule and scream no no no. Your ready for Brazil now Where small children reach in your pockets. I discoverd the excitment of Danger and romance in north Africa. I don't need books anymore I can just read my Journal:)
Posted by: b at November 9, 2004 07:52 AMI was 12 when I went to Tangier, where my mother managed to convince a camel herder to let me get, bareback, onto his camel. It ran away with me. None of your San Diego Zoo nonsense here--this was a barely-un-feral camel with a master who didn't speak enough English to understand that we wanted a picture, not a ride.
Tangier is also the site of the oft-repeated story that the rug we wanted was made by "three families: One Jewish, one Christian, one Muslim. And then, to seal the deal, the salesman pulled his lower eyelid down with his index finger (so as not to blink) and uttered the now-immortal-in-the-Shoe-household words: "Would I Lie To You?"
Uh, yeah, you would.
Welcome home, Miss Fish.
Posted by: New Blue Shoe at November 9, 2004 10:55 AMWow, I just had flashbacks of being in Egypt. I felt EXACTLY the same there...a little afraid, a little defensive...but entirely in love with the place.
Posted by: KR at November 9, 2004 02:08 PMI can imagine there would be nothing less terrifying than being in a strange place, not knowing your way and having to rely on those that live there to help you, yet they are the same ones trying to use you for thier own benefits. Glad to hear you were strong!
Posted by: Anth at November 9, 2004 07:14 PMhercules' pillars ... tanger ... the medina in fez, the overnight train ... it has gotten much easier on tourists, in recent years, as they've enacted new laws ... people selling carpets, men in djebellas .. the market ...
good place.
Posted by: invinoveritas at November 9, 2004 10:10 PMAre talking about the same place I was in 6 months ago? A law in morroco is the same as a red light for a taxi in NY. (Just a suggestion)..
Although I must admit I love the energy of the place and the carpets look most wonderful sitting in my living room
Posted by: b at November 10, 2004 08:44 AMyes, yes ... it has gotten much, much easier ... the first time I passed through was in '91, and it was not so easy, especially with a blonde; me, I pass through unnoticed, but not she; they have 'cleaned it up' a lot, though the husslers will always know where you're from, and what you speak, and know a few words to sell you something
Posted by: invinoveritas at November 10, 2004 02:47 PMb, i'm brasilian, go back every year, have family all over Rio and the nation, and i've never seen small children reaching into my pockets for change. did you actually experience that, or just read it in one of a million disparaging fear-based reports about Rio?
Posted by: k at November 11, 2004 11:33 AM