“Have you noticed that it's always harder for us to get OUT of a country than to get IN to it?” –A (Sept. 10, 2005)
This was the first leg of the journey out of Morocco that helped to generate the above quote. From Rabat, the plan was to get as close to Tangier as we could by train without actually being in Tangier, staying overnight, then getting to Tangier as early as we could, catch a ferry and figure out how to get to our respective Spanish cities (Sevilla for me, Granada for A and K). Initially, I had made hotel bookings in Larache for the night, a quiet coastal town between Rabat and Tangier. Reviewing the situation, we decided we’d try our luck with Asilah instead, closer to Tangier and right on the train line. This would be our first time stumbling into a town without a reservation for the night.
We trundled with our suitcases to the Rabat rail station early in the morning after breakfast at the patisserie just below our hotel (Hotel de la Paix). Feeling prepared, I write down the names of the stations we will pass along the way (still in my little notebook - Kenitra, Sidi Kacem, El Ksar Lakbir), because I do not wish to repeat the episode in Casablanca where we almost did not make it off the train, since there were so many people trying to get on. Of course, I did not realize there were many unlisted stations along the way. We bought our tickets and lounged around for a while (why are there no benches at this train station?), staring at the 4th set of Asians we’d seen in the entire country, before deciding to go down to wait at the platforms. Here, we barely managed to make out from the French announcements that our train has been delayed. Luckily this wait was less than an hour.
Trying to get on train, we realized that this train had definitely originated south of here (probably from Casa) because it is completely full and we cannot get into any of the compartments. So, we settled with our luggage into the corridors, waiting for people to get off at later stops. You can see me writing some final postcards, braced between the compartment and the train wall.
Partway through the ride, several boys come through the corridors peering into each compartment asking if people would like biscuits or cigarettes. Strange…
we’d encountered these people on the non-government buses we’d taken when they were parked at the stations, but how did they get onto the trains? It was highly unlikely they could afford a ticket. As we passed through some of the more rural stations, it became clear that they’d simply hopped on somewhere along the way, as people picked their way through the rubble on their way from the train. Rather than leave through the station, they walked to the far wall (if there was even a wall) and climbed over it – I suppose it must have been a more direct route home, but obviously, it was equally easy for anyone to enter through this manner. This image was taken when the train stopped at a station as we
travelled to Marrakesh. The following two images are taken from the linked sites.
Soon, conductors started coming through the train looking for these ticketless boys. At this point, we had positioned ourselves near the ends of the cars near the exits, because our stop was the next one (little did we know how long it would be until we reached it). As I looked out the window, suddenly one of the boys appeared – he was clinging to the outside of the moving train to avoid the conductor! Apparently the conductors were familiar with this trick, as the train was stopped and they yelled at them to get off (we were in the middle of nowhere). A short time later, the boys started circulating again.
Finally, we reach Asilah and get off the train. Where is the town??? This feels completely like one of those western scenes, where the fortune-seeking naïve townie is dropped off at some rural station, looks one way, looks the other way, only thing he sees is the station, the tracks stretching off to either side, and the train disappearing into the distance. His last tie to civilization. For us, on one side of the tracks, there is the highway, sand and then the ocean. On the other side, there appear to be fields. All the locals seem to know what they’re doing, they pick their way through the rubble to the highway and trundle south. We and some other tourists keep hoping that a taxi might show up.
K walks to the station building to see what there is behind it. He walks back with a look of disbelief on his face and mouths a single word - “NOTHING”. A and I go take a look for ourselves. There is a big empty unpaved parking lot. Then some trees. Then a whole lot of nothing. Oh goodness, where in the middle of nowhere had we gotten ourselves to? A man that was hanging around tells us about this great hotel he has connections to. LP had warned us about Asilah being full of people with great promises for lodgings that turn out to be dumps. We politely decline him and ask him if taxis ever come this way. He says that a vehicle is coming.
And a vehicle does come, a sort of van-like vehicle which all the other backpackers there (they’re traveling in a group) manage to get into with their luggage leaving no room for us. Obviously, we are not aggressive enough. And, we suspect the hotel guy is in cahoots with the taxi guy, because after he talks to the taxi guy, it appears this vehicle is NOT COMING BACK. ARGH.
And so, we suck, and we suck it up and pick our way through the rubble to trundle along the unpaved shoulder of the highway. Heading towards what had better be the town of Asilah somewhere in the distance. We are lucky, and an empty taxi passes on the highway some minutes into our trek. We wave and shout and get a ride into town. Rather than appear like we don’t have a room for the night and get offered another sketchy hotel, I ask the guy to drop us off at one of the gates (a Bab) to the old part of town.
Once there, we find a teleboutique and call our way down the list of hotels for Asilah, venturing into those in the midrange. I also call my parents to let them know I’m alive. While K and I wait for A to make her calls, another guy comes up to us and asks if we need lodgings. Sketchiness. Finally, we hit a place which does not tell us “nous sommes complet”. 500Dh for a 3 person room (our room in Larache had been for 300Dh). That 500Dh works out to ~$70CAD - the most expensive lodging we’ll stay in for the entire Morocco portion of the trip. We’ll take it. It seems within walking distance, so we start off with those suitcases again.
When we get there, we realize that this 500Dh gets us a pool, free breakfast, our own bathroom, 2 beds, a couch and a TV!!!! (Still no air con, we had no A/C for the entire duration of our trip). We are living in the lap of luxury. You can see A here, getting a little R&R after we finally get to our room.
Next -
Aug 27 – Sunset in Asilah
