I'm having the hardest time writing about Morocco and I'm not really sure why.
I don't even know where to start other than just admitting that to you.
We took this tour last April. That's nine months ago and
I still haven't blogged about my week in Morocco.
I gushed about the three days we l spent in Spain. I absolutely loved it!
And I've shown you some of my favorite photos from Rabat.
Most of my other photos are edited and it's time to start blogging about Morocco.
But. I don't know where to start.
So. I'll start at the beginning.
From Ronda, we took a train South along the Andalucia Express Route,
passing storks and the Rock of Gibraltar along the way.
We arrived at the southern Spanish port of Algeciras and boarded a large ferry.
We set out to cross the Strait of Gibraltar.
passing storks and the Rock of Gibraltar along the way.
We arrived at the southern Spanish port of Algeciras and boarded a large ferry.
We set out to cross the Strait of Gibraltar.
Once on board, we waited in line to show a stern faced immigration officer our passports.
Dee pointed out the mosque on board the ferry. Dee was our tour leader. I'll tell you more about her later.
We were conspicuous among the crowd.
We were conspicuous among the crowd.
A group of seventeen very white tourists among people from more exotic locales.
We purchased some Pringles and went out on deck to enjoy the sunshine.
We could easily see Morocco in the distance.
We arrived at the new commercial port about an hour from Tangier.
We were quickly shuffled into vans for the ride into the city center.
I buckled up and turned away from the group to gaze out of the window.
My first taste of Morocco and I wanted to savor it in my own little bubble.
I tuned out all of the voices and got out my little notebook.
It was with me throughout our entire journey. To jot down notes, sights, impressions.
Short, succinct words that I hoped would contain a memory for me.
This is what I wrote during my first hour in Morocco as we drove along the coast.
First word I heard - "Welcome."
Gorgeous Ocean. Green Hills. Such different sights.
Pack Mules. Beach Resorts. Traditional Islamic dress.
Man praying on a mat off in a field. Goats. Children.
Low Stucco Buildings. More Color. Turquoise water. Low Green Shrubs.
Fast, curvy drive. Up, down and around. "Beep.Beep."
Berber Market. Families picnic on the side of the road.
Cows. Small fields and crops. "Honk!!" Big city on the coast.
Cruiseship in port. People in gym clothes jogging. Camel.
For me, Morocco was the definition of juxtaposition.
We could easily see Morocco in the distance.
We arrived at the new commercial port about an hour from Tangier.
We were quickly shuffled into vans for the ride into the city center.
I buckled up and turned away from the group to gaze out of the window.
My first taste of Morocco and I wanted to savor it in my own little bubble.
I tuned out all of the voices and got out my little notebook.
It was with me throughout our entire journey. To jot down notes, sights, impressions.
Short, succinct words that I hoped would contain a memory for me.
This is what I wrote during my first hour in Morocco as we drove along the coast.
First word I heard - "Welcome."
Gorgeous Ocean. Green Hills. Such different sights.
Pack Mules. Beach Resorts. Traditional Islamic dress.
Man praying on a mat off in a field. Goats. Children.
Low Stucco Buildings. More Color. Turquoise water. Low Green Shrubs.
Fast, curvy drive. Up, down and around. "Beep.Beep."
Berber Market. Families picnic on the side of the road.
Cows. Small fields and crops. "Honk!!" Big city on the coast.
Cruiseship in port. People in gym clothes jogging. Camel.
For me, Morocco was the definition of juxtaposition.
We soon arrived at the bustling city where we would only be spending one night.
Tangier is a rapidly developing modern city in North Africa.
Located where the Med meets the Atlantic, it's known as the Gateway to Africa.
It's an eclectic mix of North Africa, Spain, Portugal and France.
It was once the preferred destination for poets, artists, writers and spies.
More notes from my feeble attempt to capture it all.
Kids playing basketball. Kids playing on the beach.
Some people are covered in traditional garb. Some people in western clothes.
Pizza Hut. Little Girl staring at me with big dark eyes. Smiled.
Cats. Curious glances.
A group of little boys say "Bonjour" and then run away giggling.
Kids catching a ride on the back bumper of a van.
Loved Spain, but this is a completely new experience.
After dropping our bags at the hotel, it was time for a guided walking tour of the Medina.
Market squares, back streets and an energetic bustling atmosphere that was almost overwhelming.
We're not in Kansas any more. Here is where I resort to photographs.
Like my notes, they capture memories for me. I hope they tell you a little bit of what I experienced.
Like my notes, they capture memories for me. I hope they tell you a little bit of what I experienced.
We stopped at a 100 year old Anglican Church and played with the turtles in the graveyard.
The church had a distinctly Moorish style.
Beside the Lord's Prayer in Arabic are carved quotes from the Quran.
Our guide told us that Tangier is a place where all religions come together.
Islams, Christians and Jews all live and worship side by side.
Beside the Lord's Prayer in Arabic are carved quotes from the Quran.
Our guide told us that Tangier is a place where all religions come together.
Islams, Christians and Jews all live and worship side by side.
Then it was time to explore the Medina and the Kasbah.
The Medina is the old walled city where people live and work among narrow streets and alleyways.
The Kasbah is the old walled fortress of the Sultan. It's the most amazing and beautiful place.
I was very careful and respectful with my camera. Many people did not want their picture taken.
I would make eye contact, smile and tap my camera,
if they smiled back I'd take a quick photo and say "Shukran".
We stopped for dinner in a lovely little restaurant.
My head was spinning with all of the sights and sounds from my first day in Morocco.
I distinctly remember having one of those travel moments in that little restaurant.
Tears filled my eyes and I didn't really even have a clear thought.
All I could think was "Oh, my God, I'm in Morocco."
Everything else was just jumbled up. All the sights and smells.
The faces and the children. And it's still just all jumbled up in there.
And I don't know how to tell you about it. I don't know where to start.
Did Morocco leave you speechless?
