Tuesday, 28th of November, 2017.
I am concerned with what to write down in the entrance form to Morocco in “address”. But after talk with some men behind me, they say I do not need to write anything. And that is it: I get my stamp to Morocco.
In the bus back to the port, this girl talks to me. I already had seen her and the big backpack she is also carrying, but I had not said anything.
Alex is from England, Bristol, and we talk a little bit. She is going to Chefchaouen to meet her boyfriend and both do Workaway. I decide I will not hitchhike to Tangier and take a bus with her, what supposedly would cost us 7 Diran. After all the taxi drivers make us offers, an old guy “convince” us that the bus stop is too far and would be easier going by taxi. The taxi is 15 Diran. Now thinking better, and everything that happened after, maybe I should have hitchhiked to Tangier, and then take a bus to Caves of Hercules.
In Tangier, it takes me a lot of time to figure out which street to take. At the Post Office, they do not know precisely! Another guy, from a shop, help me a lot and say exactly what I should do. You can never know where to get the best directions information…
It is a long away. Probably (at that time) the longest journey walking with The Monster: over 15 kilometres. I arrive at the Caves in the exact moment when the sun is in the perfect place to take a good picture.
After a few minutes, and after realizing I could not go walking by the beach (because looks like in the hole Morocco there is something about the beaches: they are figurative! There are so many obstacles to get to them, that makes almost impossible enjoying it), I take my way in other direction.
In the dark, I finally find a small entrance to the beach. I see some lights on the sand, far away, and I thought that, as the same in Brazil, it was just some people looking for shells.
When I start making my camping, the shock: where are the pegs? Until now, I do not know if I left them in Spain when I cleaned the tent or if I just lost them. The thing is: to be inside of the tent that night it was almost so bad as being outside. So noisy, and almost being caried away by the wind. The result? It was impossible to fall asleep.
I had also another reason for that: a guard come a few minutes after I finished the tent and says I have to move because there it is too dangerous and in the middle of the night some “bad guys” (in his words) could come and steal from me. After a long “talk” (no one was understanding each other), he allows me to stay and says that, because he has to sleep on the beach, he would pass each two hours and check if I was OK. And he really did that. Since I could not sleep at all, I saw most of the lights signs he was making.
Leaving pretty early in the morning, going in the wrong direction but at least able to fry some eggs and make a coffee for breakfast, I finally go to hitchhike at the A1 on my way to Rabat.
So it happens. I do not know exactly what is it or if is just a plus of the bad night, the grumpiness, the fear of something, but when this guy stops and offer to take me to Rabat I accept. Thinking now, everything was wrong: I did not trust him at all; he did not look trustful; before I said where I was going, he said to be going to Tangier, when I sad Rabat he said “Oh, OK! No problem, madame!”. As soon as I get in the car, he turns left in the next exit, when I knew it is the A1 that goes directly to Rabat and to the who coast! I start to ask him to stop, stop, stop. He keeps saying “It is good, Madame! It is tourism in Tangier!”. I realize I am in trouble and start to think what to do. The problem is: I’ve made two terrible mistakes: 1) To get in his car; 2) To put my two bags in the trunk. So the first plan, which would be jumping out of the car, would cost me everything. At this moment, I remember thinking clearly to myself, while closing the door – You will not die today, and this is not the end of your travels! I will manage this!
I see a woman and I ask for help. Nothing. Perhaps she simply didn’t understand…? Then two kids and a car with two men inside! Nope! I am asking for help and making a lot of signs! How could they not realize and do something?
It seems is just me, myself and I then. I start by trying to pull up the emergency brake. He try to stop me by holding the sleave of my hoodie, and we start a struggle inside the car in movement. Next, I try to take out the key of the ignition. Success! The car stops immediately. What bothers me is that he keep saying “It is good, Madame! It is good!”. I get out, take my bags from the trunk, and then throw the key back to him.
Going back to the highway I am a bit concerned, of course, that he might come back with some friends. The only thing that happened it is that I take a different way and have to walk a little more.
After a small ride to a better point from an old man, I reach a gas station where a nice guy in a car, who is not going to Rabat, try to give me one hundred Diran to take a bus. When I refuse, he insists that I take at least a few coins for a coffee. I humbly accept.
A ride with an honest man until a toll resulted in a free small jar of honey! An amazing honey! Then two guys in a van drive me to the entrance of Rabat. When their first question is if I am married, I get a little concerned. But nothing happened. And when they (and almost every man who I talk) ask for my phone number. Why? We don’t even have one language which we can both speak! It is a tricky thing for me from now on: what should I answer when men ask me my phone number? Could it be danger if say I don’t have a mobile phone? Perhaps I could say that I am engag… nope!
10 Years Around the World 