CHAPTER 11
Arriving by boat to a new country always amazes me, not just by how easy it is compared to flying in, with all the headaches of air travel, but also by the impression it leaves on my memory- if you are a sensible passenger, which we try to be, you go up on deck, or find a window with a good view forward, and watch as the port city rises over the horizon, grows larger until you are surrounded by the harbor, almost like the new land is embracing you, and take it all in as if you are meeting a stranger that you know will become your friend. You examine the city, look for the commercial center, look for the skyscraper or castle or bridge that is in all the tourism photos. You try to see where your hotel is, or spot a popular waterside restaurant where you will shortly be having your first meal in this foreign land. Soon your ship pulls up to the pier, and then you simply walk down the gangway, step onto the dock, and bam, you’re right there in the middle of everything. You can’t beat it.
Arriving in Tangier was no exception to this experience. Hopping off the ferry, we walked the few blocks from the port to a cheap, but surprisingly clean, hotel I had picked out on the internet the day before. Ditching our backpacks we headed immediately back out and took a long walk around the wide crescent beach that rings the harbor till sunset found us digging into our first attempt at the Moroccan cuisine. The next day we made our way to Tangier’s ancient souk, browsed the dusty shelves of a hundred antique shops, and then through a combination of vague internet directions and pure geographic instinct, navigated ourselves through the maze of alleys that is the Tangier medina, to the tomb of Ibn Battuta, one of the world’s greatest travelers. Unfortunately the door was locked, but even so, it still felt humbling, and inspiring, to stand on the final doorstep of such an adventurous soul.
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