January 6 to 7, 2018
At a sea-side cafe terrasse with a view across to Tarifa, Spain, I fell into conversation with a Moroccan man who had retired from Rabat to Tangier, for its more international flavor (1). He explained that the Tangier Med Port (from where most of the ferries leave) was created about 30 miles outside the city to encourage economic development in the area. Two automobile plants had opened there to "produce 400,000 cars a year."
The project was inaugurated by King Mohammed the 6th, the current Morrocan ruler.), whom my conversation partner said "is a good king." His view of the King's predecessor (and father) Hassan the 3rd was less complimentary. "The king and parliament fought all the time" he illustrated this by banging his fists together "and the Morrocan people lost."
Many Spaniards have returned to Tangier (2), he says, due to the difficult economic times in Spain. They frequently engage in the trades, such as plumbing.
After a stomach-churning taxi ride to the Med Port (3), we checked in at the rather forlorn passenger terminal (4). We discovered that there are few passengers on foot, although travellers by car are quite frequent.
From the ferry, we had a great view of the very distinct profile of the rock of Gilbraltar,. As we passed the rock after dark, I reminded my daughter of the time I was attacked by an ape at Gilbraltar. She rolled her eyes, having heard the story before.
On board the Italian- flagged vessel, there was a restaurant with delicious-smelling rolls. We had not been served any by the end of the meal, so I asked for some. The waiter asked if I wanted dessert "pane è dolci" I replied. The next day at lunch, the same waiter brought over rolls and announced: "your dessert." Upon noticing that my daughter did not eat her pizza crust, the waiter informed her that "in Napoli, we eat in all."
Our arrival at Barcelona was accompanied by what looked like a Laurel and Hardy routine; one would think the port had never seen a ferry passenger without a car before. The dozen or so foot passengers boarded a bus, which sat still for an hour. We then tried to navigate through shipping containers, got in line behind the cars coming off the vessel, finally clearing immigration (5) and customs while aboard the bus. By the time we got to the terminal (2 hours after arrival and about 200 yards from the boat) all of the taxis had left. Luckily, there was one cab nearby who had come to pick up his family from a different boat. Thankfully, he decided he wanted the fare and his family was late anyway.
(1) Tangier did feel more like an international entrepôt than other places in Morroco. The city is located where the Mediterranean meets the Atlantic, is an important transshipment point, and has had many different foreign rulers.
(2) Tangier was ruled by Spain for many years. The people here frequently speak Arabic, French and Spanish.
(3) There is only one train a day to the Med Port. The early morning schedule appears specifically designed to avoid any coordination with the ferry schedules.
(4) For example, none of the lights were turned on in the terminal, and it was rather chilly.
(5) I had to ask for an entry stamp, which they forgot to put in my passport. The immigration officers said we would be OK leaving without an entry stamp: "We don't worry about Americans."(a)
(a) When leaving the Shengen zone through Zurich last year, the fussy immigration official spent about 10 minutes matching entry and exit stamps and querying me about where the matching stamps were. I have a large number of such stamps and non-Swiss immigration officials do not always put the entry and exit stamps on the same page (i).
(i) Once, at a bridge crossing between Ukraine and Romania used mainly by locals, the immigration officer kept flipping back and forth between my passport pages. I think he was trying to figure out where PDR Lao is, judging by his frequent return to the page in my passport with that visa. It must have been a slow day for him.
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