I had excitedly boarded a ferry at the Tarifa port in southern Spain ready for a new adventure! Just 35 minutes later I’d stepped onto another continent. Beginning at the sunny port of Tanger in Northern Morocco.
The Port of Tanger
It was a fairly short walk from where the ferry was berthed to the road out the front. I hadn’t even made it out of the secured area of the port before the touts started. The first person to stop me was a registered tour guide who promised the best tour of the port of Tanger in Northern Morocco, of course! He let me continue on my way once I’d told him that I was meeting a friend in town. There were also the familiar calls of, “Taxi? Taxi?” on the way out. It seemed like an eternity before I made it to the road. Once I finally made it, an older man stopped me. He thought that I looked lost. He gave me directions to the medina (city centre), then told me not to trust anyone. I’m not sure if that included him or not.
Finding the bus I needed to catch to my friend’s place in the suburbs of the port of Tanger in Northern Morocco proved to be a little more problematic than one would think. Firstly, it was almost impossible to find someone who understood English. Everyone was expecting me to speak French. Then I was sent in the wrong direction several times by people that wanted to help, but obviously had no idea where the bus left from. After an hour of walking around Tanger and bugging strangers for directions, I almost accidentally stumbled upon the correct bus stop. You could say I was very relieved.
A Local Bus Ride in the Port of Tanger in Northern Morocco
Happy that things in Tanger should start to get more simple from then on, I cheerily got on the bus. I advised the driver of the name of the place I needed to go. The only problem was that the driver didn’t know the name of the place I had given him. Firstly I thought I was pronouncing it wrong, so I wrote it down for him. He still had no idea. Then a nice lady on the bus who knew a little bit of English helped me out. She went around the bus asking everyone where the place was. It took nearly the entire journey, but she found one person at the back who knew. Thanks to a wonderful group effort, I was finally able to get to my destination.
My host, Noissair came to meet me and we went back to his place. There I met his lovely housemates, who chatted with me for hours. They were very happy to share their thoughts with me, especially about what a lot of Moroccans think about the French language. Apparently, there’s a bit of a movement to try to change the second language in Morocco from French to English. It came about because many think French as useless for communicating with the world, particularly in business settings. Some interesting points were made.
After such an interesting and challenging day, I was exhausted. I retired to bed to ready myself for the adventures to come.
The Challenges of Getting From the Port of Tanger in Northern Morocco to Casablanca
The next morning, I got myself back to the intercity bus station in the city centre. Once there, I couldn’t walk two steps without someone trying to get me on their bus. It seemed that buses to Casablanca run extremely regularly. That meant it would be easy to get one whenever I needed it, so I decided to walk around for a bit. I wanted to find something to eat before getting on a bus. Well, that did not turn out as planned due to the fact that people were smoking inside all of the cafes near the station.
Seeing as lunch was a bust, I decided to change some money. That also didn’t go according to plan. The first 2 places I went to, that looked very much like currency exchange places, didn’t exchange currency. Surely a bank can change it, right? Apparently not when there’s a problem with their system. I finally got to a bank that could change currency and they wouldn’t accept one of my notes. Because it wasn’t new. It wasn’t particularly old either, that back just had high standards. Luckily I had more where that came from.
Back at the bus station, I was again accosted by the first person upon entering. They got me on a bus leaving within 5 minutes that was 10 dirhams cheaper than the one someone had tried to get me on earlier. Before we left the station, a young boy got on the bus selling ‘Kleenex’, which is apparently the name applied to all tissue products in Morocco. He was followed closely by an older guy selling portable USB chargers. Those guys certainly did their market research!
Drama on the Side of the Road
To break up an otherwise long and boring bus ride, the bus stopped on the side of the highway. We were there for about 20 minutes while a woman argued with the bus staff. She wanted them to drop her in a town that the bus wasn’t scheduled to go to. Many passengers got off the bus to watch the exchange because, as I was informed by the young man sitting next to me, Moroccans love to watch arguments.
After the commotion was finally over and we started moving, the young man, who was by far the best English speaker I had come across in Morocco so far, started telling me about how he hates the French language. That’s why he doesn’t speak it. He also revealed that he’d learnt all his English from watching television and movies. He told me that the English taught at schools there isn’t nearly good enough for use in the real world. I guess that’s bound to when it’s the third language most people learn.
What I’ve learned about Morocco so far –
– schedules are just a guide and rarely adhered to
– simple things are way more challenging than you would expect.
Let’s see what else I can learn before I’m through. The Moroccan adventures continue here