We had been thinking about visiting Africa while still in Gibraltar, but if we should take our own boat or a ferry, was the big question! We had gotten conflicting information regarding both, but when we talked to an Englishman, and he told us about the one day trip he and his sister had undertaken, and how much they had seen, we opted to take the same trip. The week before we wanted to go to Africa, we went to a Travel Agency in Gibraltar and bought our tickets. The tickets cost 30 pounds a piece for a whole days excursion by super fast ferry to Africa, a bus tour, plus lunch and entertainment!

The alarm shrieked at 0600 on Monday November 27, cause that was the day we wanted to see a little bit of Africa. As soon as we were up and about, our dog Duke knew something was up. He didn't let us out of his sight, as he was hoping to the last moment, that he was coming along also. Of course that wasn't possible! Instead, we left him secured in the cockpit with plenty of food, water and ventilation, and we knew he would be safe there all day. Our friends on the Swedish boat were going to keep an eye on our boat and Duke all day, and that made me feel a little better about leaving him! While it was still dark outside, we went ashore along the breakwater wall and tied our dinghy up to a huge foam covered pipe, that was floating in the water. We think this pipe was used to transport sand from the harbor while dredging a long time ago, but now it was left to rot in place! Anyway, it was a good place for our dinghy, as it protected our small boat from the sharp rocks! The breakwater wall is quite long, and we had to walk most of its length before we reached shore, then a huge parking lot, a park, and some streets had to be crossed, before we reached the bus station. The bus from La Linea to Algeciras, where the ferry was leaving from, left at 0745 and we were on it. A forty-five minute wild and jerky bus ride brought us along the northern shores of Gibraltar Bay, by the billowing smoke stacks, and soon we arrived at the bus terminal in Algeciras. From the bus terminal it was only a 15 minute walk straight down towards the water, and soon we had found the EuroFerry terminal and were ready to check in. We had to wait for our guide to arrive with our passes and color coded stick-ons, as we and peolpe from other Travel Agencies were making up a busload of tourists. At last it was time for our guide to herd us together and walk us along a very long walkway, high up in the air, out to the ferry. As soon as we were onboard, the guide left. He had told us we would be met in Ceuta in Africa by another guide! The EuroFerry left the port in Algeciras on the Spanish mainland at 0930, and as soon as we had rounded the end of the breakwater wall, the captain stepped on it. Soon the ferry was zooming along on top of the water, and it threw up huge tails behind each hull, as the ferry was a catamaran. Dan estimated that we were going as fast at 50 knots, as it didn't take very long for the ferry to cross the Strait of Gibraltar and approach the African coast! Thirty-five minutes later we were slowing down for the breakwater wall in Ceuta harbor.

Ceuta sit on a small piece of land on the northern coast of Africa in Morocco, that belongs to Spain. The beautiful Atlas Mountains were visible from the port, and almost at once I felt that I had been transplanted to another world. As soon as we got off the ferry and walked into the waiting hall, we were met by a Moroccan gentleman, who was going to be our guide. The tourbus was a minibus, and even so it wasn't filled to capacity. We were a variety of peolpe on the bus; some were from the United States, a few from France, couple of ladies from Germany, and the rest were from Spain. Our guide spoke four languages, English, German, Spanish and Arabic, so almost everyone could hear him tell about Morocco in their native tounge! Before we could board the bus, we had to leave our passports with the guide. It was customary for the guide to bundle all the passports together and drop them off at the border between Ceuta and Morocco, and on the way back we would stop and pick them up! Soon everyone was seated, and the bus started moving through the streets of Ceuta, which seemed to be a very nice and clean city, at least where we were traveling! As we approached the border, the land and the people started to change, and we could tell we had arrived in Africa!

The border between Morocco and Ceuta, Spain, is a very busy place every day of the year. The guide said, that there are about 6000 people crossing the border every day; in the morning they come from Morocco and in the evening they return! As we approached the actual border, we weren't allowed to take pictures, but the sight of people everywhere, cars, trucks and busses overloaded with goods, and most of all the military men with their rifles, were forever burnt into my brain! On the Moroccan side of the border were still thousands of people waiting to cross, and I sure was glad, when we finally had left that confusion behind us.

As soon as we left the border behind, we drove along the coastline until the road started curving more inland. The countryside looked surprisingly green and fertile, and in the valleys there were fields after fields, where people worked the soil. One man struggled with a pair of oxen and a plow; not many modern machines for the ordinary man in Morocco! Some of the rivers we passed had a bit of muddy water in them, and along these rivers women were washing clothes. One thing that there was plenty of everywhere, was big cactus plants. They were used as clothes lines, we noticed! Once the clothes were draped over the sharp spines, the clothes didn't fly away in the wind. Another purpose the cactus plants served, was as fences between fields and around houses. Neither humans nor cattle would try to penetrate those. Fresh water was not readily available for everyone! We saw communal wells, where women came to fill their water bottles, and once filled, they were either loaded onto carts, donkeys or carried on their heads. Donkeys were transportation for some people, and sometimes we saw donkeys just grazing along the roadside. Sheep herds were quite a common sight, and always there was a sheep herder with them; either a very old man or a young boy! Over everything in the valleys the Atlas Mountain loomed big and beautiful. I think the guide told us, that the highest peak in the Atlas Mountains reach up to about 4000 meter, and that would be about 13,000 feet. We didn't see peaks that high from where we were! I had imagined Africa to be flat, but it was far from that along the road in Morocco where we were, and for the most part we had wonderful views out over open valleys and mountains beyond.

Our very first stop was along the road to Tetouane, where we were going to meet some camels. You could have a short ride on one, if you wanted to, and of course I tried. First, it was hard getting into the saddle, but once there, I had to hold onto a strap in the front and one in the back. Second, as the camel rose to his feet, the whole contraption with me in it, tipped way forward and then way backward, but soon we were on a flat plane. Around the field a couple of times we wiggled, and at last it was time to get down. That was just as scary as getting up, but what an experience it had been. I was glad I didn't have to ride on the camel for a very long time, but a short try was fun!

Soon we were on the road again, and our next stop was going to be at the market place in the city of Tetouane. What confusion! People were everywhere along the narrow streets in the market place; some selling their goods and others buying. Just about anything was for sale; fresh fish of all kinds that looked very strange to us; slabs of beef hanging on hooks in the stands, and dead chicken with their heads still on; rice, pasta, flour and spices could be bought from big containers, not packaged like we are used to; fruits of every imagined kind and vegetables were also for sale, but when I saw an old woman washing some lettuce leaves in the dirtiest water, I couldn't imagine eating any of the food that was available. Away from the market area the streets still continued in a maze, but each short span had its name. Our guide had grown up in this city, so he knew all the streets, but if he had lost anyone of us tourists, we would immediately become lost! The streets were no more than six feet wide, and at times we could glimps the sky high above, but mostly the streets were coverded overhead also. Very small doors opened up to these streets, and in the rooms beyond the doors, we saw all kinds of craftsmen working. Cobblers were planted smack in the middle of a heap of shoes busily repairing them; woodworkers planing or sawing wood for furniture; tailors, both young boys learning and older men sewing clothes; barbers cutting hair, and the baker tending his oven and baking bread. The baker didn't make the bread, but instead each family made their own and put some kind of recognizable design on it, that meant it belonged to them, before they brought the bread to the baker to be baked. The communal bath was also part of this area that was mostly inhabited by Jewish people.

In Morocco there are Arabs, Jewish people and Christians, so the work week is only four days long, in order to accomodate each groups religious observation. The Arab people speak a Moroccan dialect of Arabic, Spanish is also widely spoken, and French is the second language taught in schools. The Moroccan people are mostly islamic, and we saw quite a few mosques where the men go to pray. Specific mosques let the women pray also, but that has only happened in recent years!

Through the market place, along the narrow streets in the Jewish quarters, and over to the Carpet Palace we walked. We were led up onto the roof at first, where we had a nice view of Tetouane's casbah and the Atlas Mountains to the north. Soon we were divided up into groups of two people, as the carpet salesmen said the showrooms were only big enough to accomodate small groups! Dan and I ended up in a good size room, where we were shown absolutely gorgeous hand knotted berber carpets in the most beautiful colors. Once we accepted cups of hot mint tea, with lots of sugar, the saleman knew he had us hooked, I believe! We ended up buying three rugs in various sizes and colors, and these rugs would be shipped home to our son in RI. One month later Chris sent us an email stating the rugs had arrived! At least I will have some gorgeous carpets for my house, if nothing else, when I return to the US!

By the time we were done buying the carpets, it was time to walk farther along the streets of Tetouane to a Moroccan restaurant, where we would be served lunch. The first course was a Moroccan soup, which consisted of chicken chunks, small noodles and strange spices that made the soup look yellow. It was good, and tasted even better with the home made bread that accompanied it! Our main meal consisted of shish kebab, coscos with yellow raisins, onions, nuts, chicken pieces all mixed together with yellow spices, and that was real tasty. I couldn't help thinking about the meat and dead chickens we had seen hanging in the stands earlier, and I had been thinking then, that I could never eat food from there! Well, guess where this food was coming from? For dessert we enjoyed an enormous almond cookie, that was getting a bit too much even for me! While we were enjoying authentic Moroccan food, we were entertained by three men, who played Moroccan instruments and sang. Dan said it sounded like wailing and all in the same rhythm! I thought it sounded like Arabic music and quite nice with different tempos! Towards the end of our lunch, a young belly dancer showed up and tempted some of the more portly tourist to get up and have a try at it! We had more fun watching the men trying to get their bellies and hips moving, and even the young lady couldn't keep from laughing. Our experience with an authentic Moroccan lunch was over, and now it was time to continue our trip by bus over to Tanger on the Atlantic coast.

After about one hour bus ride over the mountains and down towards the Atlantic ocean, we started seeing unbelievable smog in the distance. The smog looked almost orange and it was thick, so nothing penetrated it. Underneath all that smog was the industrial city of Tanger! As we arrived in the city, we could hardly see from one side of the street to the other. Even with the windows closed in the bus, the smog stung our eyes and noses, and I felt sorry for the people that had to breath this poison every day! Our only stop in Tanger was going to be up on a hill, where we would get another local guide to walk us through the casbah of the city, and end up by the ocean at the Continental Hotel. As soon as the bus started slowing down, we could see men with their trinkets getting ready to pounce on us as soon as the bus door opened. The panhandlers were very annoying. It didn't matter how many times we said no, they kept coming back again and again, sometimes with different trinkets to sell. Small boys also came around begging for money, and they indicated that they were hungry. We had gotten strict orders from our guide not to give these children money, becuase then they wouldn't go to school and try to better their lives in the long run! It was very hard to resist those pathetic looking children, and the urge to hand over a few pesetas was strong! I was glad when we finally had arrrived at the gates to the Continental Hotel, as the children and panhandlers did not follow us there.

The Continental Hotel had been for years, and still was owned and operated by Englishmen. It was quite old and the side that faced the ocean was beautiful. From the terrace we could hardly make out the port below, but as the smog lifted, it became more visible. The port didn't look very big, and the area for sailboats were tiny, so I was happy that we hadn't tried to sail there in our own boat. Maybe it was more to the port than what was visible in the smog? Time to brave the beggars and panhandlers again for a short walk between the hotel and the waiting bus. What a relief it was to be enclosed by steel and glass and away from outstretched hands!

The bus now returned more or less the same way we had come, with the exception that we didn't drive into Tetouane, but instead went on the outskirts of the city. By the time we reached the border again, it was dark. Our guide collected our passports, which we eagerly inspected for stamps; they had not stamped our passports and that was a big disappointment! By the time we arrived at the ferry terminal, we only had time enough to buy a few postcards from Ceuta, and soon we had thanked our guide and slipped him a few coins in tips. Most of our money, besides buying the rugs, was spent on tips, as everybody had their hands stretched out and not only the begging children! Once we were on the ferry and headed back to Algeciras, we had time to reflect on our day. It had been a most interesting day, and I for one, was very happy about the experience. Not that I would like to do the trip over again, as once was enough, but to have seen how people live in other parts of the world, and in Morocco in particular, makes me more thankful and happy for the country I call home!

After the ferry had docked in Algeciras, we had to go through the customs. Nobody even looked our way, so we just walked right through and out onto the street. We were able to catch the bus at 2030 and 45 minutes later we arrived back in La Linea. Our dinghy was still in the same place we had left it early in the morning, and that was a good sign. After we had felt our way over the rocks and into the dingy, we started the motor and powered out to the Swedish boat. I wanted to let them know we were back, and to hear if anything had happened during our absence! They had heard Duke bark once during the day, otherwise everything had been quiet! An ecstatic Duke met us by the door, and soon we were smothered by kisses, and his wiggles didn't stop for quite some time! A long exciting day it had been, but now we were glad to be back onboard our safe haven!