Our visit to Morocco was certainly an interesting excursion. Being used to travelling and exploring different cultures, I would like to say that it was a fully positive time, but I have mixed feelings about the whole experience.

Marie & Becky, excited by the prospect of the visit to Tangiers!

We always knew that Tangiers was a port town and, as with any gateways to different countries or continents, we understood that it would not be a true reflection of the country at large. Look, for example, at the UK ports of Dover or Felixstowe. Although there are great things about each locality, Brits would certainly not want visitors to our nation to judge us upon their experience in those port towns. We understood that there would be an interest in any tourist who came ashore and there would be potential problems and difficulties. However, nothing really prepared us for the reality of our visit.

The journey from Algeciras to Tangiers was speedy and not unpleasant. Seeing the coastline of North Africa emerging was truly exciting.

Disembarking from the ferry, we always said we wouldn’t take the first guide but that we would be independent and try to make our own way and make our own choice. That agreed, we tried to walk through the gathering of men claiming to be official tour guides and make our way to the taxi rank. One particular guide wearing a badge approached Sally first and was brushed off very efficiently, Becky followed suit but the man persisted. Clad in a new, smart leather jacket, immaculate trousers and shoes the guide reinforced the dangers of 3 women travelling unaccompanied and how we needed the services of a man to stop others pestering us. I remained quiet and just listened to the guy whilst making smart progress over the 500 yards to the taxis. Leaving the guide still protesting, we hopped into the first taxi and asked the price to take us the short distance into the town. Despite it being only a ¼ mile, the driver informed us that it would be 30 Euros – about £20 or 40 dollars! We started negotiating down this exorbitant price but the driver wouldn’t budge. We did a quick straw poll and agreed that we would go back to the guide. As we got out of the taxi an uproar resounded from the taxi drivers who didn’t like the fact that we were not going to use their service. The taxi rank manager plus a group of drivers followed us, shouting at us loudly. Luckily the guide was still there and we accepted his rate and his service for the day. Abdul, as he turned out to be called, then promised to spend the day touring us around various parts of the city.

Relieved at our lucky escape, we followed Abdul through the port and towards the town with Abdul and Sally walking together and myself with Becky. It was only as we were walking out that it struck us what we looked like. Several lorries and cars passed up, making comments and showing an unnecessary and uncalled for interest. With Abdul at the lead followed by 3 women, it must have seemed like a pimp with his ‘ladies’. Upon mentioning this to Becky, after the initial giggle, the unease started to set in. We kept our eyes down, heads down and tried to look incognito. Don’t make eye contact. On approaching the back end of a couple of lorries that were parked between the footpath we were using and the rest of the port, we really became very uncomfortable. The possibility of being grabbed and thrown into the back of a lorry and taken off for white slavery was a real possibility going through our minds. The path we were taking - the main path out of the port – was screened off by the huge juggernauts and no-one would be any the wiser as to what had happened to us.

Happily, the path cleared and we could see the exit of the port…

Upon exiting the port gates, we were relieved to see that we had come upon a large square or plaza which seemed to have a hotel housed in a beautiful building. That was it - Becky and I were staying there for the duration! We had been scared enough and felt pleased to get to safety. The architecture was truly lovely and we were quite happy to sit outside, enjoy the sun and have a taste of North African coffee!

But, alas, this was not meant to be. “You can’t come all this way and not go into the souk!” Feeling like naughty school children, we acquiesed - Sally was right. We just saw civilization and a chance to catch our breaths! Little did we realise what we had let ourselves in for…
We turned away from the inviting, clean welcoming hotel and ventured up the hill and into the depths of the old part of Tangiers. Intimidating isn’t the word for it. The streets became very narrow, very quickly and were very heavily dominated by young men, lining our route and turning to stare at us. I suppose this is to be expected but Becky and I felt extremely uncomfortable to the point of feeling quite threatened. Off and on, the men would call out to us in French or Spanish trying to get our attention and making solicitous remarks. We just huddled together, kept our heads down, didn’t make eye contact and pressed on. Squashed tightly together like conjoined twins because of sheer fear, for the first 45 minutes all we saw was the feet of Abdul and Sally who were walking ahead of us…