Tarifa to Tangier and Marrakech

The modern ferries run every 2 hours and provide a fast and efficient link between Tarifa and Tangier. Arriving at the port 35 minutes after our departure we disembarked and were immediately surrounded by groups of men offering their services as guides and taxi drivers. We had agreed that we would head straight for the railway station to try and make sure we could get couchette tickets and hoped for a left luggage store where we could leave our bags and then spend some hours sight-seeing. As we entered the port buildings we were approached by one of the “official” tourist office guides offering us a tour led by Hassan, a small chap in his fifties who spoke English with an American accent and wore a white kaftan and bright yellow slippers . He promised to organise us couchettes on the overnight train and sort out our tickets (which cannot be booked from outside of Morroco). John, took to Hassan and his patter, agreed a price and accepted the offer. Hassan summoned a taxi driver, we loaded the luggage into a battered taxi and were off. Margaret, somewhat discomforted by this turn of events whispered “are you sure you are happy about this? Do you know what you are doing?”.

John was fairly sure he knew what he was doing and as it tuned out Hassan had a pleasant manner which John found more and more endearing. Margaret continued to feel uncertain. Our bags were unloaded into the “consigne” and we set off on foot through the Kasbah and the Medina – Margaret’s stomach was in something of a knot. Hassan explained that he had broken his back when young, which accounted for his small stature, and was full anecdotes to amuse us. His favourite phrases included “lovely jubbly”,”take a shufty” so heaven only knows where he was taught his American English. He had a sister living in Acton, W3, and was interested to learn about our family, our ages and what we did for jobs (ha, ha).

The difference in culture between Spain and Morocco is significant and you do feel you are somewhere rather different. There is much poverty and so there are plenty of people wanting earn a few dirhams and the level of hassle is high. Many houses do not have water and so this was being drawn from taps in the streets and we passed a number of bake houses where dough was brought each day by local women to be baked into bread. The lanes were narrow and the medieval buildings hung out over them letting in little light, they were rubbish strewn and quite crowded with many men sitting around chatting but pausing only to watch our passage. Buildings were dilapidated except where Europeans had moved in and “prettied them up” in Hassan’s words.

Hassan pointed out buildings of interest with his specialist subjects seeming to revolve around famous Americans and Europeans who had lived or stayed and films that had been made in the town. We saw the 600 year old magnolia which was the size of a large oak and must have looked magnificent in bloom.

As we toured the souks I could understand Margaret’s concern as, although she was modestly dressed, it was she that drew attention and was stared at by the men. Hassan seemed to know and be known by many people and was well received wherever we went. The final part of the tour was for Hassan to take us to a few shops where he had friends who were only too willing to sell us slippers and carpets and he also include a pharmacy where were given a lecture by the pharmacist on spices and herbal remedies. We purchased a remedy to cure snoring which in a confined space, like a van, can be the ruination of even a good marriage.

True to his word, Hassan took us to the station and, even when the train was declared full, got us couchettes (the booking clerk was a good friend of his!!). We paid up and bid him farewell. Margaret breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately this feeling did not last long as she was soon accosted at the station by a guy wanting to practice his English with her – she refused!

Tangier has a new railway station which remains underused – while we were there (6 hours) 2 trains arrived and one left. At these times the concourse was crowded but for the rest of the time there was not much for the 3 or 4 ticket clerks and 4 or 5 buffet staff to do. We can confirm that the buffet serves the best panini and fries we have tasted for some years and we were greatly impressed by the station master who kept one eye on the platform and one on the ticket office to make sure that even latecomers were able to buy a ticket and catch the train before he would let it leave.

Eventually our train was ready to leave and we were allowed onto the platform to find our couchettes – two top bunks in a four berth compartment and French schoolboy reading Voltaire below. As we spent the next 11 hours rattling south we were very comfortable and even slept. Rising around 7am we watched from the train windows as we passed through the plains north of Marrakesh, already green with ripening cereals and dotted with the odd farmstead with its herd of sheep or goats. Arriving at Marrakesh on time were picked up by Mustapha and taken to the airport to meet our family before heading for the riad that will be our home for the next week.