TOHO

            “And now for some dictation.”

            The room lets out a collective, almost imperceptible groan of frustration. Fingers drum the tables, anxious knees jiggle out a rapid drumbeat as everyone obsessively checks the time. Finally, five minutes late, we are let out of class.

            We all bolt to our separate tasks – Louise to close her window, Kelly to buy snacks. I make a beeline for the main gate, where our grand taxi is supposed to be waiting for us. We’re all tense and aware of the ticking clock over our heads – if we miss the 5:40 train, we’ll be stuck in Meknes until the next train. At 1 AM.

            The taxi ride is uneventful until the last 15 minutes or so. We call ahead – the others have bought the train tickets, so if we don’t make it we’re also out three tickets. On the way we hit traffic, as well as every possible fucking red light on the way. Against all odds we make it to the train station, where Paul stands waiting. We tore out of the taxi like bats out of hell, shouting our thanks over our shoulders. We sprint through the train station and down the stairs, where officials are gesturing for us to hurry the hell up. At this point I’m laughing hysterically, at the situation and our own audacity in thinking we could cheat the system. Clambering aboard at the last minute, we took a moment to savor the triumph of making the train.

            The train ride was thereafter fairly uneventful, and we got into Tangier at 9:30, far earlier than expected. I had called ahead and spoke to the Hotel Mamura, so they were expecting us. The train station in Tangier was beautiful, reminiscent of Spain more than anywhere else. As Paul commented, it was easy to see why part of the Bourne movies was filmed there. Outside the station, with a carnival occurring nearby, we were fortunate in finding two taxis to take us to our hotel. The driver of my taxi spoke Spanish, French, English, and Arabic, and gave us his phone number to use during the weekend after showing us the way to our hotel.

            We walked down the beach street after stowing our stuff, and ate at one of the restaurants/cafés/beach clubs. It was quite delicious, but since there were eight of us the service took a long time. In fact, everywhere we went to sit down and eat proved the same.

            The next day, we had breakfast at a nearby café and went walkabout through the medina. Compared to Fes, the medina in Tangier is a dream. Most, if not all, vendors spoke Spanish and English, and the streets were wider and cleaner. The vendors weren’t as pushy as the ones in Fes, and were in general pretty friendly. I was able to get most of my Christmas shopping done, though it did deal some heavy damage to my bank account. We found our way to the Kasbah and looked out across the water. It was too hazy to see Spain, but we had a gorgeous view nonetheless. We explored a bit, but were called back when an official told us we were standing in a condemned building that was in the process of falling into the ocean, and he recommended that we get to safer ground. Nearby was the Salon Bleu, where we had lunch on the roof and had fun with a street cat that had managed its way up the spiral staircase to look at us with big eyes.

            After eating we made our way back to the hotel, where we changed into swimsuits to go to the beach. The beach was walking distance, and we walked past a few camels before finding a place we felt comfortable in. There were some other women around, and the atmosphere was far removed from that of Casablanca. There was even a lifeguard, who asked us in a mixture of Spanish and French if we could swim, and reassuring us that he and his surfboard would save us if not.

            The water was freezing. Which makes sense, given the season, and the Atlantic is always cold. We got used to it quickly, and spent a good three or four hours on the beach. Halcyon and I combed the beach, and were amazingly successful. In fact, a random Moroccan dude saw us collecting shells and gathered some to give to us. Completely random, but he didn’t harass us at all, and I was thankful for that. I collected quite a few pieces of sea glass to bring home.

            After the beach, we recollected ourselves once again to go out, this time to the 555 Beach Club. We had dinner there, which was made a little hectic by the Barcelona vs. Real Madrid game. The food was good, though, and the club was interesting. The floor lit up, and the bass was loud enough that you could feel it in your sternum.

            The next morning, we called up the taxi driver and went out on a winding tour that ended in the Hercules Caves. First, however, we had to drive past the place where the Atlantic and Mediterranean meet, and past several palaces owned and (rarely) inhabited by various princes, Kuwaiti, Saudi, and other. One Saudi prince, our Spanish-speaking taxi driver informed us, had his own private plane to take him between Tangier and a small town on the southern coast of Spain, I believe Maravilla or Málaga. The plane apparently has a pool inside it. No big.

            The Hercules Caves were beautiful, and we took a lot of pictures there and clambered over a lot of rocks. Thereafter we had the taxi drivers take us to the Gran Café de Paris, where we ALMOST had coffee and tea in the famous café. Instead, we went back down to the Grand Circle and had lunch. Paul and I were prepared to stop at the burger place, but the others travelled some twenty feet further to get some Moroccan food. I must say, I stand by my choice. I had a cheeseburger with egg on top of it, and watched the guy make it in front of my very eyes. He mixed onions in with the egg, and conversed with me in Spanish all the while. It was wonderful.

            Then we made our way to the train station, where we spent a couple hours chilling before catching the train. Some coffee and ice cream put everyone in a good mood, and we ran into some other kids from school. They were just returning from Spain, and happened to be catching the same train as us.

            The train ride home was a bit confusing, because we had to change trains halfway through but didn’t know the train stop name, and got separated on the first leg of the journey. Maggie, Paul, and I wound up with the kids returning from Spain, and reunited with our travel buddies on the second leg of the journey, where we switched from second class to first class (air conditioning is a beautiful thing, people. Treasure it). We got off the train and had some quick chawarma in Meknes before taking a couple of taxis home.

            This is a very bare-bones description of the weekend, and I could go on for hours about how much fun Tangier was. Now I’m psyched for our break in October, when I’ll be traveling to Granada and have even more opportunities to speak Spanish. So far, this semester is passing far too quickly, and I don’t know if we’ll have enough time for all of the awesome things we want to do. One way or another, it’s going to be a grand adventure.