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Friday October 2nd

Andi and Ludwig already left a few days ago with the truck and the motorcycles. Martin and I too left the cold Austrian weather behind us and flew from Bratislava to Malaga, Spain, where we got picked up from the airport by Ludwig.

 

 

It is early afternoon and the sun is shining hot from the cloudless sky. The truck and our bikes are in a parking lot in an industrial area, not far from the airport. It is framed by high concrete walls. Ludwig calls it “The Prison” – it really does look like so a little bit. As soon as we arrive, we get out of our winter clothes and into our shorts. During daytime, the prison is open, at night the gates are closed. It is about 10 km to the center of Malaga. In the neighborhood there is only a petrol station to provide small necessities.

It costs 50 EUR per month or 500 EUR per year to put a vehicle here. Motorhomes, caravans, boats and other vehicles of all sizes and from many different countries are parked here. Off some you get the impression as if they already were forgotten.

 

During the afternoon we prepare our bikes and pack our things. In the early evening we leave the premises for a little sightseeing along the waterfront and for dinner. At night we roll out our air mattresses and sleeping bags between the vehicles. A tent is not necessary in this heat.

The watchdog, ‘watchdog’ is really exaggerated, is a real source of entertainment. I am sure you know the Disney movie ‘Up’, with the old man flying away with balloons on his house. In this movie the dog “Dug” – “Dug the Dog” is one of the main characters. The watchdog in the parking lot immediately reminds me of “Dug” – adorable crazy. In the evening, when the main gate is closed, he is let off the leash and within seconds he is with us. He is looking dreamy at starting and landing aircrafts from the close airport, chasing flies, loves being scratched on the belly or watches us eat with a wagging tail and drooling with his tongue hanging out.

 

Saturday October 3rd

We are in the same time zone as Vienna, but approximately 2½-thousand kilometers west of it. Therefore, sunrise is between 7:30 and 8 o’clock. Until then, there is darkness.

Our first goal is Ronda. I have been to Ronda 17 years ago. We stop at the famous bridge “Puente Nuevo”, built for eternity. Unfortunately, for me, these 17 years did not pass without a trace.

 

 

Close to Algeciras we buy tickets for the ferry to Morocco. There are different routes to get there. One of the shortest connections is from Algeciras to Tangier Med. Ticket sales seem to be liberalized. Along the highway there are many booths with large signs who try to attract customers.

It is possible to choose between different operators with different departure times. 6 o’clock? Way too early! 8th? No, still too early! 11 clock? That’s doable.

We stay at a campsite just a few km outside of the town. The short-time guests already left. Only a few permanent guests, in older caravans, that seem as if they have not been moved for a long time.

 

 

To my surprise, there is a very nice restaurant right next to the campsite, with prices that bring tears to my eyes. Must be because of the nearby golf course and the residential area for wealthy people.

Except for Martin, who feels more comfortable in the tent, we just roll out our air mattress again and sleep outdoors.

 

Sunday October 4th

We approach the ferry through the port area. Two indefinable people want to stop us to check our tickets. I know similar things already from Central America. We ignore them. The ferry leaves for Morocco with a little delay. Algeciras is just opposite Gibraltar and you have an excellent view on the rock from the ferry. Did you know that the rock is one of the Pillars Of Hercules. The other one is Mons Abyla on the African side. They marked the end of the known world. The journey on sea is short and just about an hour later we are on the African continent.

 

There is a little bit of confusion regarding the registration of the vehicles. Last year it was still necessary to get an extra ID for a vehicle. We go from A to B to A to C and discuss in English, Spanish and French. Nobody knows what to do, neither we nor the majority of the border officials. In the end it turns out that the system was simplified. No separate ID is necessary for a vehicle. There is only one number, which you get at the passport control.  

On a wonderful curvy road along the coast we go to El Jebha, today’s destination.

 

 

My first impression of Morocco is Tetouan, located in the north-east. Along the road it looks like any other mass tourist place. Long beaches, one hotel chain next to the other, palm-lined avenues, chic apartment buildings, cafes and shops and car dealerships in glass palaces. I certainly did not expect this.

El Jebha, about 200 kilometers further, pushed me into another world. The city makes a living from trade and fishing. The city center is close to the sea, “embedded” between the hills. Our hotel is right on the main square. The heat of the day passed by and the streets and cafés are full with people. Women, however, are seen in an extremely limited number. To be surrounded in public only by male individuals was a bit strange.

 

 

But I also want to mention that Morocco, in whole, is not a conservative Islamic country, where women walk around only concealed. The range is wide. Mostly it’s the rural regions, where you meet a more conservative society. In the cities, foremost the younger women are dressed in western style. In one of the cities – considering the crowd, there must have been a very important soccer game – female police officers in uniform did their service.

Mercedes. Wherever you look, Mercedes. About each 5th car is a Mercedes. You will find each model from the last 40 years. Ludwig said that “the Chinese” –  correction: it’s the Indians and not the Chinese – have a license to build engines and spare parts.

The old Mercedes vans are used as taxis and for transportation. If there is not enough space inside, the people hang on the outside of the vehicle or sit on the roof. On the narrow winding mountain roads, the vehicles are swinging dangerously.

 

After we took a shower, Martin and I sat down outside in the front of the café and had .. a coffee. Andi and Ludwig were still in the rooms. Suddenly it made a loud bang. People were screaming and everything was a huge mess. The waiter showed us with gestures that everything is OK.

Andi and Ludwig, who came down a few minutes later, told that a lpg container exploded in one of the buildings in the back of the hotel and cracked a door off its hinges. Fortunately, it was only one person that had been slightly injured – well unfortunately for that one person.

 

Monday October 5th

Through the Rif Mountains.

Each country has its drug for society. In European countries it is alcohol. In Morocco alcohol is hard to get. I assume that they pour wine and beer in large quantities in the hotels for the standard tourist. But I cannot confirm that, as we did not stay in such establishments.

Beer, in one or two varieties, are available in selected major supermarkets. In the large supermarkets, you can also get cheese from Holland, chocolate from Switzerland, biscuits from Germany, French bread, Spanish whatever, and so on.

 

 

Back to the drugs. Instead of alcohol, in Morocco it is Marijuana. In El Jebha people were smoking their hash pipes and joints in the cafés.

Marijuana is predominantly grown in the Rif Mountains, where a high number of people are living from it. Until 1975, the cultivation of marijuana was allowed. Since then, the farmers are dealing in a more or less gray area. They are often punished and arrested and have to pay ransom to get free.

It is difficult to grow plants in the barren regions of the Rif mountains. Marijuana is more robust and resistant than many other plants, like corn or olive trees. Therefore, for the people it often is the only source of income.

We were also constantly confronted to buy marijuana or hashish. This happens in different ways. Near the Rif mountains you will be honked at by passing cars at the gas station, while the driver is screaming and waving full bags out of the side window.

 

In the bustling cities, the procedure is more subtle and you will be asked after a brief conversation if you want to buy hashish, or you simply will be addressed quietly from the side “Haschisch?”.

Another problem in different parts of the country is environmental protection. In the Rif Mountains the situation reminds me of Central America. Wide areas are littered. However, that is only a regional problem.

We camp in a rundown park in a national park near Taza.We share the place with a few Berbers in their tents, who are occupied with reforesting trees. The best days of the concreted benches and tables are already gone and we have to clean our sleeping places from dirt.