Get your Fes on

OK, so we woke up bright and early to catch the bus to Tarifa and the ferry to Tanger! Unfortunately our plans for the morning were thwarted when the local grocery store where we hoped to grab breakfast and snacks was closed, as well as the tobaccanist where we hoped to purchase stamps for the lovely postcards we had spent hours selecting! We did find a tobaccanist near the bus station, so after a last sojourn through the narrow passages of Santa Cruz, we bought some stinky doughnuts and iced tea for the bus ride and a few postage stamps.

The ride to Tarifa was pretty and uneventful. Well, with the exception of these weird cutout bulls sporadically sighted on hilltops in the distance. They were huge (which is not really evident from the picture), but flat and propped up randomly along the horizon.

Our plan was to have a leisurely lunch in Tarifa, ferry to Tanger, then catch a train getting us into Fes about 10. Well as soon as we got to the ticket office and the cashier pointed out that the ferry left in five minutes but we could make it, I panicked and bought tickets for the early ferry and bounced Tarifa right off the tour. I need to learn that Sam needs to be in charge.

Soon Tarifa was in the rear view and we were ready for our crossing. A sad statue waved to us as we left Tarifa.

Within a half hour, we were under sail for Africa! Leaving Spain, we enjoyed a fabulous crossing. It was windy, and the water was rough, but the day was clear and bright and the trip was fast.

Here are our first views of Morocco.

The customs check is done on board, so in no time we were disembarking in Morocco! (I'm thinking I'll be using lots of exclamation points from here on out.)

Pulling in to dock would be the last calm moments we would have for a while. Entering the terminal we were approached by one guy who claimed to work for government information. He was happy to help us get a cab, reach our destination, buy a bridge, whatever we needed. After successfully sidestepping him, we felt quite relieved that we had successfully traversed the welcome gauntlet. Then we left the terminal.

Ugh. Cabbies (my least favorite people throughout the trip) swarmed. None would turn on their meters. None would quote a price. All invaded our personal space and promised to get us on the 2 p.m. train to Fes. Of course, there is no 2 p.m. train to Fes.

Finally, Sam approached the guard to the port, chatted with him in French; and the next thing I knew, she had negotiated a reasonable fare and we were piling our bags into a cab to the new Tanger train station!

King Mohammad VI is working on revitalizing Morocco, partially to spur tourism, and has begun by refurbishing or constructing beautiful, efficient train stations. Sam and I bought our tickets, grabbed some lunch, then signed on to the computer for a bit (all the stations are equipped with WiFi). We even downloaded a Community to watch while we were waiting. (Yes, I know we could have gone sightseeing, but there was construction everywhere around the station and we were lugging bags, so, American TV ruled the afternoon.)

Our train departed about 5:30, and then began my favorite part of travel in Morocco -- riding trains. The train. was. cool. Totally. Gorgeous scenery, Beatles-style cabins, camels sunning in the dioramas out our windows. Plus, we met the nicest people. The Moroccans we met traveling on the trains were friendly, welcoming, interested in us and eager to share elements of their homes with us.

The first segment of our ride went from Tanger to Belksiri where we would change to a train for Fes. We shared a compartment with a family that was going home for a family funeral. The brother, his two younger nieces and a grand nephew were traveling together. The brother has been living in Dallas for twelve years, working for an air conditioning company. He told a story about getting yelled at by a customer in Dallas after he had attached an A/C unit to an antique window frame that was close to 100 years old. Dallas (our name for him) said he laughed at the customer and informed her, "That's not old! My father's house is 300 years old!" Dallas was fun to talk to, occasionally drawing one of his nieces in to the conversation, and the time passed quickly.

We pulled in late to Belksiri, but the trains, as there seem to be so few of them scheduled, wait for each other to make connections. We crossed the platform and began the final segment on our journey to Fes.

On this segment we met Youssef, an architect who was working on the remodernization of Fes. His company is involved in many of the revitalization projects being undertaken throughout Morocco. We talked about architecture, religion, culture, and how the projects he works on reflect elements of Islam and cultural ideals. He told us, for instance, that fountains do not have sculpture in them because the water is the beauty. He also discussed the use of geometric designs as human or animal sculptures would be inconsistent with beliefs prohibiting graven images. Youssef even set up his laptop and shared some of his drawings and designs.

At Meknes, a couple joined us in the compartment. Najia and Abdoul were both from Fes; Najia spoke only Arabic and French, while Abdoul spoke Arabic, French and English. Najia seemed very sweet. Sami spoke with her a bit in French while Abdoul was out having a smoke. They were familiar with our riad and offered to take us there and then on a tour of the medina the next day, but when we arrived at the station we found the riad had sent a cab for us, so just exchanged phone numbers and parted for the evening.

After backing down a narrow, dark alleyway, we were surprised when Samir, the maitre d'hotel, materialized from what appeared to be the wall of the alley (but was a door) and checked us in to our room. The room was lovely, and the bed, though it looks spartan, was one of the most comfortable beds I have ever slept in. Which is what I did shortly after our arrival!