finally boats are sailing to Tanger, our vessel would leave in the afternoon. Spanish customs went quickly so we could board the huge catamaran. Marlies happily ate some figs and didn't notice the heavy movements of the ship. Sophie enjoyed the adventurous idea we were finally going to Africa and she was very concentrated on everything that was going on, especially the beautiful dresses of the Moroccan ladies on board. I had to queue up on the boat to get our passports stamped for Morocco. Upon leaving the ship we had to stop for customs, register my passport, get a car paper filled in and ignore several police and securitymen asking for a Bakshis (bribe). As we did not intend to give them anything, we had to wait a bit longer. This was all very time consuming but at last the big iron gate opened before us.

We left the port and landed in the chaotic traffic of Tanger in which we witnessed two accidents within the first 10 minuits. It reminded us very much of other arabic countries with its crazy car manouvres, over-loaded trucks and all sorts of exotic vehicles on the road. Men in typical long dresses occupied the roadside. Heading for Tetouan, we drove through a part of the beautiful and green Rif mountains. We weren't sure if this was really Morocco and not Switzerland or Austria... The impression we have so far is; Morocco is what we hoped it would be. Next day we went to the center of Tetouan by taxi.  Tetouan is not a very touristical place so us being the ones people were looking at, was something to get used to. Also inside the souqs it was quite a culture shock. Many traditionally dressed older Moroccans with long skirts and typical head coverings. The younger Maroccans are dressed in a modern way. We almost got lost in the little medieval streets full of clothes, shoes, food, animals and other things. We could practice our negotiation skills on a traditional pink marriage dress we promised Sophie in order to finally stop wearing the Spanish flamenco dress.

A visit to a Moroccan coffeehouse filled with only men finished our visit to Tetouan. Many people are in for a little chat and we feel very welcome. In the remains of a Mercedes (with more than 900.000 km on the clock) with an adventurous taxi driver, we were brought back to the campsite. While we were digesting all these new impressions, Sophie was already dancing on self-made harp music of a neighbouring Frenchman.