Wake up in Fez and go downstairs to tell the riad host that we’re headed to Tangier a day early. She tells me we have to pay for the duration of the stay because they “turned down other potential guests.” I look around at the half-empty riad and she reads my mind. (I forget haggling is a sport even in the most sophisticated of settings here) We agree on 1/3 of the unpaid night after some good natured back-and-forth…
We’re getting dangerously close to our budget limit now that we’re hitting the tail end of our trip. Think about how to cut back. Decide all food must go. Shopping and cocktails should be fine.
Train it to Tangier on what have become our beloved first class cabins. Meet a young American woman and her parents. She is living in Madrid and has recently lived in Fez for six months with her husband while she was getting her PhD in Moroccan history at Harvard. We chat for hours about Moroccan culture, she gives us some more great words to throw at assertive Arab men, and tells us our hotel in Tangier is her absolute favorite.
Change trains at Sidi Kacem and are now in cabin with eighty-something-ish woman in fabulous Chanel seersucker suit and oversize Celine glasses. She strikes up a conversation with us and tells us in a dreamy drawly French voice that she’s from Tangier but she worked for Chanel in New York for thirty years. We decide we love her.
Head to back of train, open rear door, and sit on steps with feet hanging out in the open air. Minutes later Chanel appears and tells us to turn around and face the sea. We see the most incredible streak of blue to our left. Amazing to see ocean after so much time inland by desert. Tangier, she reminds us, is where the Mediterranean meets the Atlantic at the northernmost tip of Africa. Although we already know this, when she describes it, it sounds like sex. Debate asking her to repeat herself so I can hear it again.
Arrive in Tangier to the usual dearth of maniacally eager taxi drivers. Settle on ridiculously inflated fare – too tired to argue – and make our way to the Hotel Tangerina. Drive by the long strand of beach dotted with ramshakle beach clubs and faded discotheques. Pass a group of camels resting in the sand – presumably a tourist photo op enterprise, but still amazingly exotic.
After ton of hairpin twists and turns we arrive at our little hotel, perched on the very top of the hill overlooking the whole of the city. Walk in and fall in love. Immaculately styled to a Humphrey Bogart-by-the-sea tee, it’s absolutely the perfect setting for this little gem of a town. Our room overlooks the city walls which drop down to the glorious Med.
Head upstairs to rooftop terrace. It’s stunning. From there we can see across the Strait of Gibraltar to Spain and all around the edge of the continent.
Have a mint tea and launch into full-blown photo shoot on the roof. When we’re exhauseted, head down to the Petit Socco (square) and check out the fab deco Cinema Rif. Pass tons of magnificent French colonial buildings and balconied windows. Stroll around and then head back to La Tangerina.
It’s now completely dark out with the moon shining on the African coast and the two oceans meeting in front of us. Meet awesome Canadian couple celebrating their one year anniversary - he is Indian, she Pakistani – both Muslim. They grab a seat with us on our oversized daybed overlooking the water and bring a box of pastries to share. Talk until 3:30 am about everything under the sun… God, religion, politics, and marriage. It’s another amazing human connection in this wild country. Since we’re trying to save our cash, Cristina runs down to fetch a bottle of water from our room and arrives back with two glasses… “Champagne Dahhhling???” she slurs… we crack up cause we’re almost broke.
After four hours of chatting, stumble downstairs to catch a few hours of sleep before 10 am express to Casablanca…
