Back in October 2018, Larry and I had a wild idea to make a train journey. We’d done road trips with our fifth wheel and a few cruises. But we wanted to do something special. Larry spent his teenage years in Rabat when his father was with USAID. He wanted to show me Morocco and the places he loved. We decided to fly to London and take the train from there. We visited many beautiful places, which will appear in future travel posts. This entire trip turned out a little more challenging than we anticipated. When we planned it, we thought Larry would be completely recovered from his broken patella. Not quite. That knee was better, but in the recovery period, he stress-fractured the other one. But that was not enough for us to delay this trip. No, sir! Not us.

Arriving in Algeciras, we took a taxi to a hotel complex where we were told we could catch a bus at 2 a.m. to the ferry terminal. The taxi dumped us at the hotel, and we went into the lobby to wait for the bus. Not our first mistake. We waited and waited. Larry found out we were in the wrong place and we had missed the bus. Oh no! We hired a taxi, confident we would make the ferry. The taxi driver must have taken the scenic route. We traveled for miles and miles and finally arrived at the ferry terminal just as the ferry was finishing boarding. Not only that, but the tide was out and we had to walk a long distance to the boarding ramp. With my backpack and dragging a roller bag, I raced ahead so the ferry didn’t leave before Larry could make it to the ramp. As I climbed aboard, I saw a taxi drive up to deposit two primo passengers. Larry was about halfway to the ramp, and the crew was ready to pull it up. My pointing and agitation convinced them to wait a few more minutes. But it all worked out. Our luggage was stowed, and we settled in for the two-hour ride to Tangier. We got some coffee and watched the sun come up over the Mediterranean. The long day faded away.

In Tangier, a taxi took us to an old, shabby train station next to a beautiful new train station, which was not yet open. The old railroad terminal, if you can call it that, had no snack vendors or machines. There was nothing to eat, which was disappointing. They also did not take credit cards, and we had used most of our Moroccan cash for the train tickets. I took off walking to find an ATM. Since it was still early, the streets were practically empty, and everything was closed. Some people came by and I asked for the nearest bank or ATM. With their direction, I finally found one, got my cash, and hurried back to the train station. It was unsettling walking around a quiet, empty city, as if it had been evacuated and we didn’t know why. Finally, on the train, we passed through Kenitra. When Larry’s family first moved to Morocco, they lived in Kenitra, where Larry attended high school at the US Naval base there. Except for the sign above, Larry wouldn’t have known we were there. The town was unrecognizable. The Rabat of Larry’s youth was also long gone. Too many cars and buildings. We finally arrived in Rabat, and after settling into our hotel, I found a cafe around the corner and brought back roasted beef kababs with curried couscous. Larry felt at home.

The next day we rented a car and drove around. Larry wanted to find his old house. We got lost, instead. But it was fun. That’s what travel is for, right? We drove toward Fez, stopped for lunch, where we enjoyed a scrumptious tagine meal. I thought I’d seen some trucks here in Arizona piled high with hay bales. We have nothing on the Moroccans. It’s hard to see, but this small truck was piled so high I was sure it would tip over in a slight breeze. And by the way, even though there are striped lanes on the highways, no one pays attention to them, especially away from the cities. We’d try to pass one of the piled-up trucks when, at the last minute, it would veer over toward our little car. We had to keep a sharp watch for sure. When we returned to Rabat, we made another stab at finding Larry’s neighborhood. We wandered around with no success. Finding ourselves in the heart of the city, we also noticed that many streets had no signage. We had no idea where we were. Waiting at a stoplight, Larry yelled out to a cabbie in Arabic. He asked if the man knew where our hotel was. The man smiled and said, “Follow me.” I believe he had a fare in his backseat, too, but we followed him right to our hotel. Larry thanked him, and he drove away.

We left Rabat and decided to drive to Marrakech and spend the night. When planning this trip, we were going to backpack. Larry’s knee intervened. Traveling light and cheap, I had a clothes line and soap. I tried that out in our downtown hotel bathtub in Marrakech. Clothes hung all over the place, and it worked! With clean clothes, we drove out the next day toward the edges of the Sahara and the Atlas Mountains. The road south was being rebuilt, and we crawled through massive construction and detours through the mountains. We stopped at a cafe at the top, where we ate French fries. We probably ate something else, too, but that’s all we remember. There was a patio that overlooked the valley below, and I got a picture of a cat dangling in a tree over a drop-off. He seemed perfectly content. We drove on but decided to stop at a little B&B oasis that I found listed on my phone. We called and they had a room for the night. We got directions to our turn-off, but the road became a maze of huts and alleyways, and again, we were lost. We began to have second thoughts. A man on a motor scooter asked if we needed help. He looked like the guy with the monkey from the first Indiana Jones movie. We were Americans, and he thought he would get a big tip. Larry bargained with him, and he reluctantly agreed to lead us to the B&B tucked away in a grove of palm trees. It was a beautiful place. The couple who owned it were French and enjoyed talking French with Larry. I was happy just trying to figure out what they were talking about. It’s a lovely language.

We would have liked to stay another night, but they were booked, so after a wonderful breakfast, we packed up to do some more sightseeing. Everywhere we saw women leading a donkey loaded with twigs, I suppose to sell. Other women set up tables to sell dyed silk scarves. We headed for Ouarzazate. It is a desert town well known for its movie studio. Many movies have been made there over the years. Lawrence of Arabia, The Man Who Would Be King, The Last Temptation of Christ, The Living Daylights, Gladiator, and many others were filmed here. Ouarzazate was once a main crossing point for traders into northern Morocco and Europe. We found it modern and a great place to stock up on snacks and other traveling supplies. The hotel where we spent the night was also run by a French couple who were friends with our previous night’s hosts. When we drove up to a large, wooden gate in the middle of a tall wood fence, somehow our host knew we were there and appeared to help us with our luggage. He escorted us to a small covered reception area near the pool, where we were served tea and pastries. It was delightful.

The hotel had a small dining room where dinner and breakfast were served every day. I don’t remember what we ate, but it was all good. After our night there, we decided to splurge on a “nice” hotel for two or three days before our flight back to London. I don’t know why I don’t have any pictures of the place, but I did get one of Larry relaxing at the pool. It was a lovely place, but I remember now that our walk-in shower flooded the entire bathroom. I had to bank it with towels all the time. Just like our super cheap hotel in London. That’s another story. Going into town, we passed a guy offering camel rides. Larry convinced me to stand near the camel for a picture. I wasn’t too enthused, but I did it. Oh, here’s a picture of a truck carrying two or three layers of sheep. The way that guy was careening around the curves, we were sure our windshield would get splattered with one. We survived. It’s all good adventure! I won’t tell you about the woman we almost ran over. It seems pedestrians just walk into the street, no matter what the traffic or the traffic cop is doing. Scary.

That was a great trip. Even with the knee and the unplanned events, we had fun and are so glad we did it. Stay tuned for future posts about the rest of the trip. Like and comment if you want to share a thought or question. Thanks! Visit my website to sign up for future posts and information about my other writings. https://vcwilliamsauthor.com/