I wonder if Tangier gets a bad rap.
All the literature the ship distributed warned us of disreputable vendors, cheating taxi drivers and not-so-helpful guides. This fit in perfectly with our preconceptions of the place. And then there were the plethora of adolescent boys on the walk into town who wanted to show us the Medina and the casbah ... for a fee (one of whom called me a "cheap tourist" when I waved him off).
As it turns out, we never made it past the city gates. The sidewalks, when there were any, were pretty bad and, once inside the old city, it was uphill all the way, both awkward for Tom. (Thanks, sweetie, for the excuse to stay inside my comfort zone.)
But you know, we had a nice chat - in fractured French - with one of the Harbour Police on his break who shared a bench with us, all about where we'd been and where we were going and where we were from. And the fellows doing road construction all stopped to say 'bonjour' as we passed by. And one of our fellow guests was telling us about the lovely and inexpensive tour they had taken with a local taxi driver.
Wonder what the Moroccans say about Kansas ...
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