Tangier can be quite overwhelming, especially for travellers on their first visit, it being the main port of entry.  Feeling like a herded cattle, I exited the ferry and was thrown into chaos.  I was a first timer myself, travelling alone, and only had 4 pages of my Let’s Go Europe Guide to take me around this foreign territory. Expect to be bombarded by local guides (local people, not professionals), and taxi drivers.

My guide, Mustafah, was extremely gracious and helped carry my luggage up winding streets and stairs to my hotel.  Hotels with hot showers run cheap, 100-200 Dirham, about $10-20 USD.  We toured the city by foot passing many colourful mosques, climbed  many stairs, and tasted a lot of local foods like cous cous and shwarma sandwiches made with shredded meat and curry sauce.

Mustafah befriended me, introducing me to his friends who were regulars at a small tea/smoke shop in the Kasbah neigborhood of Tangier.  They offered me tea and Kif and I gladly accepted.  Morocco is famous for its mint tea. Fresh mint leaves are picked and mixed with sugar and hot water. The tea is poured from far above the glass in order to help cool it. Moroccans smoke Kif, a mixture of tobacco and Hashish, through a long, skinny, wooden, pipe called a sebsis. I was told that the best way to access Kif is to hook up with young local guys.

I returned to my hotel that first night delighted and couldn’t wait for the next day...a bus trip to Asilah where the beaches were supposedly pristine and where there was to be an international art festival.  The 2pm bus was full and I had to wait a couple of hours for the next one.  Public transportation is a hassle with buses always full beyond capacity - they are never on time. 

I decided to lie on the beach next to the port, close to the bus station.  It was when I awoke to a young boy yelling that I realized I had fallen asleep. I couldn't understand his native Arabic, but his gestures were quite clear - my phone and watch, that I had foolishly left on view, were gone.  Swiftly we searched the beach, and the town but found no trace of the perpetrator.  Following his lead, we dashed around winding roads and steep stairways, and ended up at the police station.  It wasn't worth filing a report but the policeman was kind enough to hail me and my young appendage a taxi.  With two passengers already inside, the policeman explained our circumstances and there was no problem in giving us a free ride.

Mohamed, one of the staff from the Ibn Batouta Hotel, was my age and shared my love of the beach.  Since it was so close, he drove us there day after day.  Morocco has 3 coasts...the Atlantic, the Strait of Gibraltor where the Port of Tangier is, and the Mediterranean Sea.  I was lucky enough to bask in all of them.  A day of swimming and playing in the Atlantic left Mohammed, his cousin Aziz, and I starved.  We ordered fish goulash from a tiny hut on the beach and climbed some rocks to get to the best table....a private cove of rocks and nothing but ocean in front of us, the water tickling our feet.