Travelling ‘free-style’ (to me that means having no definite plans or places to stay) has always held fascinating appeal to my, until now, suppressed sense of adventure. So when my mum and I booked flights to Malaga in Spain with a vague idea of hitting Morocco in Africa I was certain this would prove to be a sure-fire and exciting way to fulfil this ambition.
It would also be, I thought, a good way to tick off a couple of my other long-standing bucket list desires – seeing Gibraltar and visiting Casablanca.
One plane, three buses, one taxi, and a ferry
Upon arrival at Malaga airport I was immediately struck by how cold it was. Being February this shouldn’t have come as a shock but, nevertheless, I was expecting it to be a little toastier than England. Fuelled by the desire for warmth and sunshine, we decided to continue heading south and aimed to reach Tangiers in Africa before sunset.
It was exceptionally easy to navigate the Spanish transport system. Within minutes we had boarded a local bus and were heading for Marbella where we transferred onto an Algeciras-bound coach. One further bus ride, with a taxi journey squeezed in between, saw us safely arrive in Tarifa, a town located on the southernmost coast of Spain and just a mere few miles from Morocco.
The main advantage of traveling by road, apart from the fact it is unbelievably cheap, is that it’s a great way to admire the scenery. Stretches of markedly quiet roads snake around the unmistakable charm of the Mediterranean Sea, which is beautifully lined with mountains and cliffs all scattered with curious-looking Spanish structures.
So content I became (and just a little bit smug that events were proceeding so smoothly) I succumbed to accidental sleep during the final leg of the bus journey and missed the views of Gibraltar. I expect it looks like an impressive grey flinty rock but, for now at least, that first-hand sight remains on my ‘to-do’ list.
Undeterred, the next step of the adventure was getting to Morocco and, luckily, from Tarifa it’s not a difficult task. Speedy Tangier-bound ferries leave the Port Of Tarifa regularly and the short journey is spent in relative comfort gliding over the choppy Gibraltar Straits.
Tangerine world
While Tangier offers lovely unspoiled beaches, February certainly doesn’t offer sun-basking weather so it was the city streets that we eagerly headed for. After finding one of the loveliest hotels along the seafront, we set about exploring the city, which is home to a bustling vibrant medina, and plenty of cafés and restaurants.
The medina is a pleasant place to get the feel of local ambience and, remarkably, we did not get pestered by the locals – who are known as Tangerines – so we had the opportunity to browse the shops selling food, souvenirs, clothes and other goods at a pleasurable and leisurely pace.
Playing in Casa
Proceeding south via a surprisingly comfortable five-hour train journey, we reached Casablanca. Fuelled with a romantic ideal to find a Bogart-style gin joint we swiftly checked into the first hotel located by the city’s Casa Voyageurs station and headed out to explore the surrounding area by dusk.
What a mistake to make! In hindsight, it’s abundantly clear that my research and planning skills need serious work as our excited roaming on the Casablanca streets near and around the train station yielded us a serious shortage of cafés or restaurants, let alone gin joints.
The one establishment claiming to be a restaurant we did venture into soon saw us ushered out with the claim that food was not served or available. Beaten, for this day, we reverted to dull food and sweet Moroccan wine savoured in the hotel lobby.
While Casablanca certainly is the industrial and economic heart of Morocco, I found it to be less than endearing. The traffic congestion made crossing the French-inspired boulevards into what felt like at times a life or death situations, and the pollution was eye-wateringly overwhelming.
Its unassuming and maze-like medina is fascinating but I personally found it mildly threatening after an interlude with a persistent local who insisted on advising us on the surrounding sights then demanded dirhams for his unasked trouble.
It must be noted though, I am naïve: two lone European women wandering the streets of Casablanca is bound to draw attention – indeed WE were the tourist attraction.
However, the awe-inspiring Hassan II Mosque more than made up for this minor hassle and we settled by the edge of the Atlantic to take in its ethereal beauty as the sun went down for another day.
One noticeable difference in both cities, I found, is the way people (well, the men) know how to enjoy the moment. Relaxing in cafes watching the world go by, drinking coffee, smoking, and chatting – it’s certainly a pleasant way to spend time.
No place like home
With our time in Africa drawing to a close all that was left to do was to return to Spain in time for the flight home to Newcastle. An easy feat I confidently assumed given the inbound smooth experience. How wrong I was.
Adverse weather conditions saw all ferries from Tangier to Tarifa cancelled and a Spanish taxi driver strike threated to thwart a timely arrival back to Malaga. However, after frantic discussions in broken English and Arabic and some quick thinking, negotiations, and a small trek by foot on a busy motorway we were soon at our final destination.
Exhausted and ready to return to normality I have never been so happy to board an EasyJet plane. While I enjoyed every moment of my Spanish / African adventure, I have to say coming home can be as nice as discovering somewhere new.
As a certain Dorothy once said “there’s no place like home”.
With thanks to my dear mum.
Jennifer Clair Robson 