Fear, blood and violence were some of the things the Western News told me to expect from the Muslim world. Looking back I’m very glad I took the odds to it, proving that sometimes the only way to see the truth is through your own eyes. I had a rough idea of staying in Morocco for two weeks and ended up being there for two months. A different world full of awe, wonder and something new to see every time you stepped out the door. I loved this country and will be back again one day.
I had made the decision to visit Morocco two days prior to arriving, taking BlaBla cars from Granada to Tarifa, (my first time using BlaBla, an amazing concept that just works beautifully, and I talked about it for days afterwards to very bored listeners). Anyway, this was a good idea for me as it meant I couldn’t think about the outcome too much. I knew not what to expect and was nervous to say the least. As I said, my view of the Muslim world up until this point was carefully crafted by the western media.
My first steps into my Morocco were an interesting affair. I was nervous and a little anxious. I had taken the ferry and stepping off the boat was greeted by a few men, some of whom claimed to be “official” tour guides wanting to take me to my already booked hostel. I had been told to refuse these sorts of offers, as they typically end in an outrageous fee, and set off by foot towards the Medina, in the general direction of my hostel. As soon as I left the gates of the port, alone, another local man started chatting me up. Telling me his story of having a Spanish girlfriend who he sent off home to Spain so he could enjoy Ramadan in peace. He told me about his home in Asilah, about how beautiful the spot was, and casually suggested that we share a cab and I come stay with him at his home. He said it was the “Ramadan” thing to do. This would not be the last time that I heard Ramadan used as a method of persuasion. Nervous, alone and having my father’s paranoia I did my best to kindly refuse but got his number in case I was in the area later on. He held my company and offered to show me to my hostel in the Medina. It was a maze and very hard to navigate, so this did feel like it could be a godsend. But once in the Medina, my hostel was the least of his priority. I was told a budget hostel was what I really wanted and he knew a good one not far from where we were. I insisted on my hostel and after getting about five or six people involved I found the direction to follow. An old man took me to the front door wanting nothing but a visit to his tea shop on the way. I was very thankful. This whole process only took about 15 mins in reality but felt like hours. The commotion of a completely foreign language imploring me to enter every shop, even though I had two very heavy bags attached to me, and lots of people wanting to be the ones to guide me to the hostel with a tip at the end. I was inside my hostel and in no hurry to return to that crazy outside world. When I later found out about the extent of Ramadan, this experience all made sense. It was mid afternoon and these people hadn’t eaten for about 12 hours. I would be a little crabby and impatient too.
I did however quickly partner up with someone who had also just arrived and ventured out in search of food. With no such thing as a super market, the Medinas are filled with many a “hole in the wall” selling plastic wrapped foods that contain more numbers that natural ingredients. So the fresh food market is the place to head for. Before we even got ten steps from our hostel doors a man was onto us. He wanted to show us the Medina and before we had the chance to accept or refuse, we were off into the maze. We had soon lost our sense of direction completely leaving us reliant on this man to take us home. He did but upon our return to our hostel, the inevitable happened and he demanded money. Having just arrived, neither of us had any cash to offer, and we seriously had no idea that money was going to be expected. He was fuming to say the least and we copped a lot of abuse. This was the first, but not the last time, I was called a racist.
I have never witnessed such a multilingual society as Morocco. They may not always be fluent but they know enough in a lot of different languages to try and sell you something, and it’s probably hash. They are experienced with tourists, and they picked me up as soon as I got off the boat and it was a real struggle to make it to my hostel without being coaxed into buying something. I got offered hash six times on the short 15 minute walk to the hostel.
My first night was spent with five or six other travellers of Morocco, and I was very glad not to be all alone in a budget hotel. We all shared tales of our first day in Morocco. The majority of us starting it in Tanger and absolutely hating the first day. We all concluded that Tanger was a tourist trap and the locals were very good at getting what they could out of us but the second day would be better and get a lot easier with time. Thankfully, on the whole they were right. Hairy moments are scattered throughout my memories but Morocco was wonderful and I will definitely return.
Spending two days in Tanger, I needed time to adjust to the different world that is Morocco so I took some time out from the camera. There are some photos of this time but they increase the further into Morocco I travelled. People here don’t like their photos taken, so it was a case of not taking any or being sneaky about it. I chose sneaky, and really got stuck into using my Phone’s camera, perfect for the sneaky shots.
Morocco is the world’s home to hashish and Chefchaouen is Morocco’s home to it. A lot of tourists come here just for the hash, it’s cheap and sometimes free if you ask the right people at the right time (apparently) but Chefchaouen really has a lot more to offer than just hash. The blue walls of Chefchaouen are fun to get lost in for awhile and wandering the streets of the Medina.
I travelled to Chefchaouen with three people I met in Tanger on the morning of my second day. They were all heading that way so I tagged along. People make travel what it is and these people were great fun to be with in Chefchaouen. I spent five days here having a ball in this city that is a lot more relaxed than its predecessor and holds a lot of very beautiful locations we explored. However, my new travel companion was heading south to fly out, so that was a good enough reason for me to follow. The best decision I could of made. This is when the fun really began. Next up the city of Fes.
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