,
Algeciras is
an industrial port town, linking southern Spain with Africa, via a 70 minute
ferry crossing to Tangier, Morocco. One of the reasons that we had decided to
spend a few days in this Moorish enclave was because of its proximity to
Morocco, allowing us to experience a bit of Arab culture and tradition in a
uniquely Spanish setting. The allure of a day trip to Tangier offered us the
opportunity to immerse ourselves in Muslim culture and catch a glimpse of the
exotic, mysterious, and often misunderstood, world of Arabian society.
Having been plagued by torrential rain for the
past couple of weeks, we were delighted when the sun peeked through a cloud and
playfully teased us for two glorious sun-drenched days. What a treat it was to
bask in the sunshine and soak up the long-awaited Mediterranean warmth. Casting
sightseeing aside, we scrambled to set up camp at the hotel pool, our
sun-starved Canadian flesh luxuriously melting in the sun’s golden ray
embrace. Confident that the sunshine
would linger for at least another day, we scheduled a ferry crossing to Morocco
for the following morning. We couldn’t
contain our excitement of finally being able to experience for ourselves the
seductive allure of this Muslim corner of the world. But alas (and
yes, I’m going to get dramatic now), the fates had other plans for us,
which didn’t include a magical carpet ride to Casablanca.
Rising early
in order to catch the 8:00am ferry to Tangier, we awoke to the now all too
familiar grey skies and drizzling rain. The sun had formally bid adieu and
scurried to hide behind a rain cloud, giving full reign to the storm Gods to
wreck havoc upon our impending ferry crossing. Our enchanting camel ride into
the land of the Arabian nights was clearly not meant to be. After all, there
was absolutely no way that I was going to embark on a ferry crossing through
stormy waters, piercing cold and howling winds. Envisioning the worst, I had
already pictured the tiny vessel desperately rollicking through the waves,
eventually capsizing and flinging my pink sneakered self into the dark and
frigid waters. Sipping tea in Casablanca would have to wait.
My mantra “the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain”
had clearly not failed me and had faithfully followed me from Barcelona to
Alicante and now to Algeciras. Having
squandered the first couple of days luxuriously basking in the sunshine,
sightseeing was definitely on the agenda for the remainder of the day. I would
be lying if I said that the city was breathtakingly beautiful, which it was
not, it was a gritty and often-times ugly town, its appeal characterized by the
hard-working migrant labourers who journeyed through this vibrant port. A blend of local Spaniards, hijab attired
Moroccans and backpacking tourists provided a melange of old and new world
cultures that contributed to the uniqueness of Algeciras.
Palm-tree lined Plaza Alta, the city’s main
square, showcasing its colourful mosaic tiled benches, impressive fountain and
magnificent street lamps was a surprising highlight, as was the tiny 18th
century Church of Senora de la Palma.
There is only
so much sightseeing one is able to do in the pouring rain and so we devoted the
remainder of the day to darting in and out of the multitude of Moroccan tea
shops, cafes, tapas bars and fabric shops that littered the laneways.
Had I known
better, I would have thought that I had magically placed my pink sneakered foot
in a bustling Moroccan market, as my senses were invaded by the tantalizing
aroma of falafel, shawarma and mint tea. Shops displayed both Arabic and
Spanish signs. Moroccans attired in
flowing jallabahs conversing in Spanish with the locals were not an unusual
sight in this culturally diverse town.
Shopkeepers graciously welcomed us, openheartedly inviting us into their
shops, urging us to linger and stay a while and seek refuge from the elements.
The warmth
and hospitality of everyone that we encountered on that gloomy day more than
made up for the dismal weather and perhaps it was meant to be that we discover
a little bit of Morocco right here in Algeciras.
A fitting way in which to spend our last
evening in this Arabian inspired corner of the world, as we did not yet know
what adventures lay ahead in our journey out of Algeciras.
It would have been
awesome to have been able to see that camel, though...
To be continued....
Come enjoy
the mystique of Morocco in Algeciras with me....
0 Response to "Not sipping tea in Casablanca"
Post a Comment