Weekend in Tanger

This weekend was my first trip outside of Rabat since my arrival three weeks ago, and it was spent in Tanger, (I refuse to call it Tangiers).  I was invited to join a group of my fellow students and just over 24 hours later I was on a train to Tanger.  This city is one of the furthest North cities in Morocco and has a rich history with Spain.  Almost immediately we were struck by the difference when people began to approach us with Spanish instead of the French we were met with in Rabat.  The city is shockingly modern in some areas, (such as the beach community along the Strait of Gibralter), while others are ancient, (such as the winding medina streets which slope over 45 degrees and are more narrow than most American sidewalks).  The contrast is shocking after spending so much time in Rabat, where no building is over five stories tall and the old and new are far more cohesive.

Rabat Train Station

View from the Hotel

We spent the day walking the streets after having a delicious and filling breakfast at a small cafe near the Cinema Rif.  While we stuffed ourselves with rice, olives, sausage kebabs, eggs, french fries, bread, salad, fresh orange juice, and coffee with milk and sugar, it would rain momentarily onto the awning while the sun shone from the other direction.  It brought a smile to my face as it reminded me of the moment of revelation in a story by Abdelfattah Kilito, called "Dites-moi le Songe", where the lead character yearns for a moment when he can laugh and cry at the same time.  It was beautiful.

However, our bruch was followed by a difficult learning experience.  We had first-hand experience as tourists being hounded by Moroccan "tour guides", men who attempt to swindle you into a guided tour of the medina and demand money afterward.  Our "guide" began with a friendly explanation of a sign and proceeded to lead us deep into the kasbah.  Although I was attempting to shrug him off for quite a while, he continued to follow us.  Once we reached a street we recognized we did our best to tell him we were through talking, but he started to yell at us.  It was so horrifying to have a man scream at us that we were spoiled Americans treating him like a dog and cursing our country.  Not only that, but the rain left us all with wet feet and dampened attitudes.

We walked for a long time until we felt we had established a safe distance between us and our new friend and then debriefed.  It was established that we were now aware of some negative cultural aspects, and that we all had negative opinions of the treatment of women in this particular area, but we decided to move forward.  After a quick visit with our friendly cafe owners from breakfast, we walked down a steep hill to the coast.  The beach was beautiful and we even saw a camel!

Part of the magnificent breakfast

Sarah and holy bread

Fountain in Tanger

A camel on the beach

The beach of Tanger

Horses waiting out the rain.

Teeter totter in the rain

Gran Cafe de Paris
Though it rained off and on for our day and a half in Tanger, it was a beautiful experience.  We learned some difficult lessons about being safe around strange men, but not for lack of beautiful vistas.  Our hotel (where we are told the Beat generation stayed on a regular basis) had a view of Spain across the Strait.  We also had breakfast on Sunday at the Gran Cafe de Paris, where the Bourne Ultimatum was filmed.  In all it was a great mini-vacation from our vacation.