Ferry across the Mersey - erm no it's actually the Gibraltar Strait

 Did you know that lots of apartments in Gibraltar don't have windows?  Neither did we until we rented one! The reason?  The omnipresent Rock.  Land is short, the Rock is huge. Apartments are built tight against it, hence units built at the back of the block have no windows!

So now, it's the day  we have to leave our windowless room for our journey to Tangier in Morocco. I'm so excited, It's somewhere I've wanted to go to for a long time. Tangier, Fes, Marakesh and Rabat - here we come!

But wait a minute I haven't posted for a while .  Why is that?  Read on to find out!

Getting out of Gibraltar is not as easy as it seems.  The taxi fails to arrive.  No probs we'll walk.  It's downhill after all. Steep hill and cobblestones conquered we look for the cabs but find a number 5 bus instead.  One of the joys of the island had been the buses especially the no 1 & 2 that thread their way through the town and along the coastline. Spectacular views for only a couple of dollars.  The locals conversations are priceless.

We pile our luggage onboard and head for the border only to find that is exactly where the bus stopped - the border.  We had to haul our luggage back to customs along a road with no pedestrian path. Not a great way to start the day.

When we get there, customs was a non event.  With a smile and a wave they direct back to where we came. A quick negotiation with a cab driver and we are off to Algeciras to catch the ferry.  A spectacular trip along the coast.  Already the scenery and architecture are so different. We arrive at the Ferry Terminal much too early but it gives us a chance to munch our snacks, people watch and to enjoy the 'English' of the effusive waiter.  English lesson over we try to board the ferry.

No signage anywhere.  Announcements in Spanish and a waiting room where everyone is boarding a different ferry to the one we are taking. There's a languid official who waves our questions away until suddenly she sprints towards us saying 'Hurry. Hurry.'

The weather has turned and it is pouring with rain, We see long rows of cars crawling through the rain towards the cavernous doors of the ferry.  We won't be boarding anytime soon.  BUT I am wrong and we find ourselves slithering across the huge deck, towing our bags behind us.

Soaked to the skin, we arrive in the cavernous snack bar.  We sit isolated looking at the rain until the bartender snaps the curtains shut.  Why? Who knows? 

 

Over the next hour,  people dribble in. Maybe we misunderstood the words 'hurry, hurry!' 

A message keeps thundering over the speakers. 'All passports must be stamped before you enter Morocco. I assumed this meant at the port.  By the time I had worked it out and found out where to get the passports stamped, there was a huge queue snaking through the restaurant.

One official sits trying to cope with the hundreds of people flowing through.  Eventually I reach the end of the queue.  I listen to the woman in front. She has to prove where she is staying in 6 different cities with receipts etc.  I decide to wing it and say we are only staying in one place Tangier. 

'I show him the receipt for the house we have rented. 'This not address' he says. 

'Yes, Yes' I say.

''Show picture of house.'

When I show him, he shakes his head and reluctantly stamps my passport. I didn't pick for one second that anything was amiss.