Ferry Town

Grabbing a bus from Marrakech to Tangier was a bit of a struggle but we made it. The man at the ticket counter was rude, and there was going to be a transfer in the city of Casablanca before we landed in our ferry-crossing town.

The bus ride was one of those beautiful ones where the landscape keeps changing outside the window and you can literally see Morocco transform from sandy desert to lush green agriculture soil. When we got to Casablanca we had some language trouble. Bryn talked slow drawn out English with the man behind the counter ticketing our bags for the next bus. “ We are going to Taangiiersss.” She had to repeat this several times until the man said “ Ah! Tahhhngghhhaiiir” in a very snooty french accent. We all laughed our heads off over this transaction while waiting for our transfer bus. Apparently everywhere we go we sound like straight from the south hick ass Americans to the frenchified Moroccans.

Tangiers was not a pretty town. When we got off the bus men asking if we needed a taxi or a hotel bombarded us. We repeated no about one hundred times while walking away/ escaping their nagging. It was worse than Latin American when it comes to pestering of foreigners. I guess everybody’s gotta make a buck.

We dropped off our bags, ate dinner, and pranced on the beach before our 5 AM wake up call for our Ferry to Spain!