Commentary By Rick Rodriguez
I had no idea what to expect crossing the Strait of Gibraltar from Spain intoTangier,Morocco. I just knew that Morocco is in North Africa, and I would, if only for a moment, touch the continent of Africa. Even the name, Africa, begs for an explanation, almost an intrigue into the unknown and unfamiliar, and while I was leaving behind the consistency of Spain; a familiar cuisine and dialect, I knew little of my destination!
We departed from the Rock of Gibraltar region, pictured above, after spending a week in the area, and touring Portugal including Lisbon.
The itinerary was a day trip through Tangier, a port town, located on the north west coast of the country. We traveled by ferry from the Strait of Gibraltar in the Iberian Peninsula of Spain across to Tangier. The ferry was a pleasant, and as I remember, only a few hour one way trip from Gibraltar. It was full of tourists and locals; a lively ambiance filled the vessel, perhaps a harbinger of things to come.
We had pre-arranged the trip with a tour company. Once past the customary procedures entering a foreign country; we departed by coach to tour Tangier.
Morocco (the full Arabic name is Al Mamlakah al Maghribiyah which translates into "The Western Kingdom" ) is located on the North West coast of Africa and has ports in the North Atlantic Ocean as well as the Mediterranean Sea. It is the third most populous Arab country. Morocco shares the largest part of its border with Algeria to the East and Western Sahara to the South. Morocco is divided into sixteen regions. Each region is further divided into provinces and prefectures. The capital of Morocco is Rabat and its largest city is Casablanca.
Our trek through Tangier was short; but as with most city tours, it was designed around seeing as many of the important sites as possible in the allotted time frame. Thus, we were treated to local cuisine; shopping districts (Bazaars); the Casbah; treks through a maze of pathways in town; the coastline, and some wildlife! It was also a place where I immediately felt isolated from the western world. Not that I was homesick for the good ole' US of A, I wasn't, it was just the distinct cultural differences required a bit of getting used to. From the arabic signage to the bustling streets to the aggressive merchants peddling their wares at every opportunity, the latter a practical infringement on personal space. At the time, and to be fair, it might be quite different now, it bordered on a personal battle just to get through some merchants and to the next phase of the tour. Nonetheless, as I walked through this very old place, a maze of stone pathways, walls rising above me at each shoulder blending neighboring districts, I eagerly moved along fascinated with my journey.
I saw lives of people passing before me. Young and old! Smiling children staring perhaps wondering about me and what I was doing there(?) I saw kids playing: kicking soccer balls. Just like we do back home. I saw the diurnal events of the locals. The interactions and the negotiations of the passing day. For me, this was enough to know and see, that what I was seeking was here; a different kind of place, one I was not familiar with but somehow knew. A way different from my own. But a way I needed to see and compare to my own.
The Casbah, akin to a fortress, stands out in my memory, and I don't really know whether there is a Casbah in every town in the country, but it is an intriguing architecture and would be a very interesting inspection. "The Casbah (Arabic: qasba, meaning citadel)specifically the citadel of Algiers in Algeria and the traditional quarter clustered around it. More generally, a casbah is the walled citadel of many North African cities and towns. The name made its way into English from French in the late 19th century and continues to be spelled as acquired from that language."
I was captured by the clustering of the environment and now as I write these words even more so. We stood marveling from a distance. And as I stared off wondering what life might be like there; we were off to yet another adventure. But none would register a slot in my memory more than the Casbah. I would leave Morocco with a bit of its history; the chaos of it's bazaars; an introduction to their dining customs and food; the labyrinth of its streets, and knowledge of the fierceness of its merchants.
Though I came and left quickly. I tasted Morocco enough that if I would ever come to Spain again. I would certainly catch the ferry back into this country. I discovered what I was looking for in Morocco. I saw the old clashing with the new. I saw life somewhat differently than I know. In some respects, it was a peek into the past that perhaps now a decade and half removed from my visit is no more!
Rick Rodriguez is a writer and is frequently published in opinion/editorial sections in local and national newspapers. Rick, a San Francisco Bay Area native and graduate of Saint Mary's College lives in Danville, California with his two children. Contact Rick at rrodriguez@pacunion.com or (510) 326-4795.
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