There's No Place Like Home- Morocco

Marisol, Alex, Oresta, and Natalie on the Ferry to Morocco

Me on the ferry- First sight of Africa

 The second I stepped off the bus in Tanger, Morocco, I thought to myself "I'm not in Kansas anymore." If I could, I would have clicked my heels together and fled back to the hostel in Spain. Getting off the bus was a madhouse and flurry of people grabbing bags, shouting at each other, shouting at us, and heading in all different directions. We had been warned about people pretending to be your friend to get money from you, so when several men stood outside the bus stop following us so they could “show us the city” for a “student price”, we knew to avoid them. In fact it was essential to avoid eye contact with the men on the streets to keep them from approaching us. Although, we did make eye contact with a couple of young guys who we met on the ferry ride who we figured we could trust. Since they were from the area they offered to help show us the beach and the best tourist places to go. We parted ways once we got to the beach and quickly realized it was unsafe for 5 girls to wander a city without the company of a man.

The Moroccan beach was gorgeous with soft sand, a clear blue ocean, and lots of people playing soccer. As we approached the ocean it was apparent that we were not welcome there. Groups of men started walking closer to us and watching us like hawks. It was hot outside and I was boiling but I didn’t dare to take off my jacket because I didn’t want to draw even more unwanted attention to myself.  I felt very uncomfortable and very sad at the same time knowing that women don’t have the freedom to enjoy the beach unless they were accompanied by a man.

The whole time I’d been there I was on edge and had to keep my eyes and ears open from all directions. I held on to my purse so tightly that my knuckles were as white and I made my arm go numb. Homeless children would come up to us to try to pickpocket us or beg for money, men would stare at us, whistle, yell things, grab their crotches, and sometimes follow us. I have never felt so unsafe or harassed in my life.

For lunch we went to an authentic Moroccan café along the boardwalk. I ordered couscous with chicken. It was wonderful, and one of the few things I enjoyed about the experience. We sat at a table beside the sidewalk which was a huge mistake because crazy drunk men from the sidewalk would try to charge our table to get close to us. I’m not sure what they were trying to accomplish- stealing our purses, touching us, taking our food, or trying to haggle us but I didn’t want to find out. I was so appreciative of our waiter who stopped them and did everything he could to protect us. He pushed many men away from us, kept them from bothering us, and made sure we were safe. It was so bad and he was so embarrassed by the actions of these pedestrians that he told us lunch was on the house.

One place I did feel safe in Morocco were the street of vendors in Morocco. Most of them could speak English and they were respectful and kind towards us, mostly because they knew we had something they wanted- money. In morocco there isn’t a set price for anything and you have to haggle for prices. My favorite vendor was a man who reminded me of a character straight from the Disney movie Aladdin because he wore an outfit to fit the part. He showed us some scarves and insisted we look at every one. He would admire his products by saying “Very nice. Wow! Wow!” with so much enthusiasm in his funny accent.

Oresta infront of one of the church doors

The walk back to the bus station was hard and exhausting. I was tired and over stimulated by the entire experience because I had to watch my back at all times. The bus station only escalated it because we couldn’t figure out which bus to take, people were coming at us trying to haggle us from every direction, the bus station workers weren’t helpful, it was extremely hot, and I felt like I could have been kidnapped at any second. I was feeling overwhelmed from the culture shock.

When I got on the bus, I cride the whole ride home. Morocco was a beautiful place but I absolutely hated being there. I felt overwhelmed, fearful, and unsafe the entire day. It reminded me that not everyone in the world has the same rights, especially women. I can’t imagine what daily life is like for the women of Africa or other parts of the world where women don’t have freedoms, aren’t respected and are considered the property of a man. Through this experience I learned what it’s like to feel unwelcome, like an alien, outsider, to be disrespected, and how to handle myself in a place that’s unsafe. It reminded me how lucky I am to lead a wonderful life in America and have my home away from home in Spain. When we arrived back in Spain I almost kissed the ground with joy. There’s no place like home.