June 15, 2001

Oh well as they say, "the best laid plans"!

The quaint little hotel room in Malaga was directly across the road from a Flamenco bar that rocked till the wee hours. Nice Spanish guitar, but it definitely was not a lullaby. I figure I managed to fall asleep around 3 a.m..and awoke at the crack of 7, missing the bus to Algeciras. I am a frim believer in karma, or going with the flow, so I decide to head off to Algeciras and just take whatever ferry is leaving first to Morocco, if need be I can always spend a night in Algeciras if it doesn't feel right.

Manage to catch the 7:30 milk-run to Algeciras. The towns along the way are intermittently beautiful and garish. The small towns glisten white against the dull backdrop of the dry hills, the resorts ( Torremolinos, Marbella etc?) scream in neon and high rise tackiness. At one stop a well dressed man boards the bus and asks ( in Spanish) if anyone is going to Algeciras. I figure the gig is up, the city is under siege or some such so I timidly raise my hand. He then approaches and asks me to deliver a package to a "tall man in Algeciras". Now, stupid I am not, and although Spain is nice, I really don't want to experience the jails. I agree to deliver it as long as I can see the contents. The envelope contains legal documents for a wedding, so much for the drug trafficking! At Algeciras, a tall man and woman absolutely beam when I deliver their package, and offer to drive me to the port- karma.

I grab a ticket from one of the many agencies lining the port and change a few dollars into Dirhams ( I know the rate is not good, but I abhor arriving in a country without currency).I am told that I can catch the 11 a.m. sailing, seeing as how it is about 10:35 - I have my doubts. Now if I were 20 again, or had no backpack it might just be possible, but at 41 with a pack- this is doubtful. I hustle to the port and find that the boarding is on the second floor, I am beginning to get a wee bit weary. I manage to make it through passport control and board the boat at 10:59 whew. We then sit in port until 12:30 the joy of Moroccan schedules comes rushing back.

While waiting to take off I meet a fellow Canadian who is possible the most boring and obnoxious person on the face of the earth. After three tries I manage to lose him onboard. I head to the top deck and watch as we leave Spain and the Rock of Gibraltar behind, and the shore of Africa looms - I am in bliss.

As we near the port of Tangiers, I remember all the warnings of this port, and there are many! I look from atop the ship trying to locate the gate into the medina, where I hope to find the Petit Socco and a cheap room. It is fairly easy to see, and I am a little more confident at being able to make it at least that far without becoming encumbered by a "guide". As I am watching a young man comes up to me (speaking Spanish) who seems rather nice. He is from Mexico and we start to discuss travel plans. He asks about the train to Marakesch, which I happen to know leaves at about 10 or 11 p.m. (why exactly do I know this???). The guy now has to decide what to do in Tangiers for the day. Now many people would say I am crazy, but I Do teach people skills and communication so, I invite him to leave his pack in my hotel and spend the day tripping around with me. He really doesn't seem like an axe murderer, and it would be nice to have some male company for the initial onslaught into the port. Of course I could have taken a chance with the Canadian, but I am certain he will meet with a swift and painful demise in the clutches of the local touts!

The mexican and I head off into the medina.