Tangier, Morocco

– Tangier, Morocco

Tangier (Tanger) was the start of my 17-day visit to Morocco; to see my sister and what her life is like in the Peace Corps.

Flying into Casablanca, I was pleasantly surprised to hear a women speak to me in French. I suppose I expected Darija. We were in the immigration line, and she asked for un stylo, a pen. I grabbed one from my bag, handed it to her, and mused about how handy high-school-plus-one-year-of-college-French might be. Unfortunately, it was incredibly rusty, and  it was best to keep quiet until I could practice .

That didn’t happen, either. As soon as we all reached the arrivals hall, we were ambushed by a dozen representatives from the local telecom companies, all offering free SIM cards, pre-loaded with credit. What a fantastic marketing move. I picked up one from an extremely enthusiastic young man, who rapidly conversed with me in French… conversation happened, more or less…

I called my sister who excitedly screamed, which led me to laugh/scream like a touristy Chinese person. I didn’t care. This was exciting. She elaborated on instructions to get to Tangier from Casablanca, via train.

Once on the train, I battled boredom by photographing the scenery.

One rogue, puppy dog.

One rogue, empty bus.

I also spent quite some time scribbling away in my travel sketchbook in French, writing narratives and thoughts, to jog my rusty French.

Sheep. Er’where.

Black/White pair.

Drying mud fields.

Lone donkey. Thinking about… ?

One of these, is not like the other. (figures)

Prayer.

Red.

Here, we were stalled for 30 minutes. Not sure for what.

More tents.

About four hours later, I am finally reunited with my sister!

We stroll through the city with her fellow PC friend, and they provide the tour. It’s been over a year that they have been living in Morocco.

Kindly showing me architecture influenced by other cultures.

The beginning of many cats.

Cinema.

Affinity for all different versions of otherwise familiar objects:

Approaching the market.

This black paint has flavor.

Cactus fruit! I’m now a fan.

Animal cruelty comments aside, these baby chicks were still very cute, being sold by the handfuls by this charming toothy-grinning man.

Olive oil, being sold by the (water) bottles.

Punk kid’s smize says, I’d rather prefer you buy the bread.

They took me up to this beautiful rooftop for mint tea and snacks that they purchased from the bakeries.

This room is part of the building restaurant/cafe, that we went to the top of.

Friendly feline does not care about my socks & shoe combination; normally in NY a faux-pas. Awesome.

Turns out this friendly feline isn’t that friendly, and just wants to aggressively eat your food.

Friendly feline thinks, let go of me.

Then, all the mosques sung out their calls for prayer.

We also walked around the older district.

And when the sun set, commenced our night tour. It’s a bit of a maze, and the narrow walkways between buildings brought back memories of Jerusalem.

Qui veat un chameleon?

OU CHASSURES.

Also, it was my sister’s birthday at Midnight. We got cake to celebrate. Happy Birthday!!

We stayed in a nice hotel that they researched for. I am in good hands.