Standing on the deck of the ferry looking toward Africa where the sun was beckoning over the ocean... behind, dark storm clouds obscuring the view of familiar Europe. Ahead, the unknown. The exhilarating, awaiting adventure. I could have stood forever just breathing in the ocean air, scarf blowing in the wind, as we careened over the gigantic waves. Thinking about how this is what it's all about; to be alive, exploring, approaching a foreign land over the sea.
Tangier welcomed us with a beautiful sunset. We were all flustered when we got off the boat and were accosted, not in numbers like I had imagined, but by specific people in a hard to describe and very unnerving way.
I can't believe I'm in Africa right now. What a different sensation, to think it is only a hop and a skip from Spain. I feel so far away and removed from anywhere I've ever been, I alternate between being excited and scared. But we're only here for seven days, too short to let my paranoia take hold.
We succeeded both in not getting ripped off by the cab driver (we think!) and securing a couchette on tonight's train. All that hooplah about bedlam and running with the bulls... just a way to incite fear! The ride over to the train station was surreal... streets filled with people, all dark, all in robes, a dramatic sunset over rough waves and white-caps... sheep running free and fires burning on either side of the station. But inside, the cleanest foyer I've ever seen; large, airy, tiled, tall plants reaching to the ceiling.
All the tourists I see I am intrigued by- the typical, fanny-pack toting crowd has been weeded out.
We met an American and Canadian and played cards with them on the floor of the station. One knew Bonne's boarding school ex-boyfriend. We met two more guys in line for the train. They were from Chile, and both looked rather nervous about the journey. The group of us stuck together as the gates opened and there was, admittedly, a charge for the train, but certainly nothing along the lines of what our ferry-mate had been describing. We shuffled amidst the masses out to the track, where a gray locomotive awaited under the lamplight.
We stood for a moment in awe, regarding our African Express, wondering what was on the other side of the unknown.
We get on the train and nobody can find the lights, so we scuffle in a bemused herd down the pitch-black corridor. The American guy ends up floundering about in our couchette after being jostled from the hallway.
The Chilean stops by to warn us about the bathroom; later, Lorena confirms his observations with a face much similar to her seasick one.
We are all off to Morocco, and what a long, strange trip it has already been.
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