A Saharan New Year’s Comedy of Errors – Concluded
Missed the first part of the article? Read it here
BY JACEK GREBSKI
The Fez Medina, donkeys in the streets, bazaars, merchants selling wares, an eternal maze of small winding alleys covered in canopy, endless shops lining both sides. As we entered, I recall being stopped by a North American who asked us what we were doing there – didn’t we know it was dangerous? As quickly as he appeared he disappeared again, into the throng of people running about their business. Lost in this city at once so commercially vibrant and so out of touch with modernity.
Our friends took us down a puzzle of streets and alleys to a restaurant where we dined with them. The food was astoundingly delicious and we treated our hosts to the meal, after which they led us through a further labyrinth to their home where they invited us in for dessert. The medina house boasted a large inner courtyard with plants and trees and rooms on each side of the inner courtyard. We were offered comfitures and tea by mother and sister, and sat huddled in discussion over our plans and ideas.
We described our plan to take a bus from Fez to Erfoud in the south, about 80 kilometres from the Algerian border, and spend New Year’s Eve on Erg Chebbi by Merzouga. However the brothers tried to convince us that the nationalised bus company had sold out of tickets, that the only way to go was by cab for an estimated cost of €1500, and that instead we should just stay with them. We decided to take our chances at the bus station, after all – the desert was the mission.
The Fez bus station was hectic – we had no idea where to go, who to ask for directions, what busses were going where. It seemed as if we were the only clueless ones there. Nonetheless with the help of our French-speaking friend we managed to buy a ticket on a private bus headed for Er Rachidia, and from there Erfoud and Merzouga were just a stone’s throw away.
I must say we felt quite proud after purchasing the tickets, despite the warnings of our Fez friends we had managed to get closer to our final destination.
On the bus transient men selling last-minute trinkets, knockoff Rolex watches and faux tiger balm accompanied us, jumping on and off as we made our way through the curvy streets outside the city. Slowly exhaustion began setting in and one by one we started to doze off, the bus climbing the mountains, the temperature outside falling, the temperature inside falling?
One of the bus windows was apparently permanently ajar, and the cold air and wind coming in from the outside had dropped the temperature to below zero. Even in a U.S. Air Force issue Bomber Jacket I felt the cold penetrating through my bones, my gloves and hat were futile, and my toes felt like icicles at the ends of my feet. Luckily we’d bought some of the faux tiger balm from one of the bus merchants and proceeded to rub it on in order to create a false feeling of warmth.
A Saharan New Year’s Comedy of Errors
BY JACEK GREBSKI
Spending New Year’s Eve in the desert was the idea. However, the reality did not live up to our expectations. This is an account of what not to do in Morocco during Eid al-Adha!
The easiest way to get to Morocco is by plane, and several discount airlines fly directly to any major city in Morocco from either Spain or France, with flights as cheap as €40 return. So if you’re cash-conscious and flying from across an ocean, you may want to look into flying to France first and then continuing to Morocco. For our part we decided it would be a splendid idea to take the ferry from Algeciras in Southern Spain across the Strait of Gibraltar to Tangier.
The ferry ride itself is short, but figuring out what to do on the other end of the Strait is an novel experience. Upon landing we were processed though immigration fairly easily, however ports – as ports tend to go – aren’t the friendliest of places, and we were swindled to take a cab ride to the medina where we would spend the night. Despite the fact that the Moroccans travelling with us advised against it, we figured we’d jump into the past and live out our Saharan adventure.
To get to the Tangier medina from the port is quite simple, you walk two hundred metres from the port into the city and then head up a few flights of stairs. However, this little titbit was unknown to us and instead we paid a cabby to take us there for €10, which roughly turns out to be €0.05 per metre. London cabbies eat your hearts out.
Walking up the stairs into the heart of the medina we soon realised why we were advised against it. Somber and somewhat unsafe, this area of the city could be described as its red-light district. We walked the streets at night brushing off solicitations for unwanted services until we reached our hotel, a building that had long forgotten its former glory. Three floors up a winding staircase with loose floor tiles; this first experience of Africa was certainly interesting. Our room boasted five single beds with old iron frames, squeaky windows with wooden blinds in place of glass and paint that was older than our combined ages peeling off the wall. The manager requested that we pay up-front. We paid five euros each. That was definitely an expensive cab ride. We made the best of the situation and headed off to dreamland where surely things would be less adventurous. Time, 3:00am give or take. Dawn was not far off, and it came quicker than we had expected. Woken up by Morning Prayer, the large tower from the Mosque in the medina stood proud. It was surreal and new awakening.
The medina looked more natural now, the small streets and white buildings had a certain charm to them that at night was marred by the seedy underbelly of this port town. We headed to get breakfast and proceeded to the train station. For our next stop Fez, where we would catch an overnight bus into the desert. Or so was the plan.
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